the affair - A Larrystylinson Story

My angel

Harry POV

I slowly walk up the stairs to Louis' apartment, clutching the bouquet of flowers tightly and a bag with his favorite food in the other. I'll make it up to you. Louis will understand, he always does. He is an angel.

My angel.

I wanted to ring the bell but stopped moving. The apartment door was ajar, not locked as usual.

Was Louis expecting me? Maybe he saw me from the window. Maybe he had tried cooking again. A smile crept onto my face. He couldn't cook at all, even though I tried to teach him every now and then.

Last winter we baked cookies together. After we took the last tray out of the oven, Lou offered to clean up the kitchen while I went to shower. I would have liked to take him into the shower with me, but the kitchen looked like a bomb had hit and I was too happy to accept his offer. When I returned to the kitchen after a long shower, it was sparkling clean.

Lou was sitting at the kitchen table, I could still see flour in his messy hair. He concentrated on decorating our cookies with icing, colorful sprinkles and nuts. I stood in the doorway, leaned against the frame and just watched him for a while. Would he ever do that with our children? Would we ever get that far? He would definitely be a loving father.

I take a look into the apartment hallway; it is empty. Has Louis caught up in his tidying rage again? Lou? Otherwise there is always a wild pile of his Chucks here, sometimes topped with his favorite denim jacket. No umbrella in the cloakroom. I slowly make my way into the kitchen-living room. The kitchen work surfaces are empty, no toaster, no kettle, no coffee machine.

"Lou?" I call louder and again I get no answer. No sofa, no coffee table, no TV. The small bookshelf is still there but empty. No more football trophies.

I open a door in the kitchen cupboard - empty. An unpleasant, cold feeling slowly crawls up my back to my neck. I go to the bathroom with a little quicker steps. No bathroom runner, no shower gel and shampoo bottles in the shower, no shower curtain, nothing on the vanity. I want to call out to him so badly, but my voice fails me. What does that mean? My thoughts are just a confused, almost panicked chaos.

I storm further into the last room, the bedroom. No more closet, no bed. I'm starting to sweat. My gaze falls on the large bay window. We often sat here, Louis in my arms, and he talked about what it would be like if we were free, if I was officially his.

How my Louis had always pressed himself against me, gently stroking my forearms and playing with my fingers. How he had told me over and over again how much he loved me and that I was everything to him, his whole world. How we exchanged tender kisses.

The bitter realization slowly trickles down to me. I'm getting cold. Ice cold.

He's gone.

He asked me to decide for him so many times, I saw that it was eating away at him, costing him strength and I had seen him cry far too often. Because of me. Because of my damn fear and indecision.

Lou had told me over and over again that he only wanted me and would go everywhere with me. That nothing else matters if all he has is me. Lou doesn't care how much money I make, he doesn't want expensive gifts or unnecessary status symbols. Just my love.

And now Louis is gone. As if he had never been here.

Cold shivers run down my spine, my breathing quickens and I feel fear, even panic, rise within me.

What have I done? How could I keep him waiting so long? I let him starve to death out of pure cowardice. And never told him how I felt. I fall to my knees, trembling, my legs no longer supporting me. The ground is hard and cold. I sniffle, trying to wipe away the flood of tears, but it's useless. I call his name. Again and again. No answer.

I feel like I'm in a whirlpool that's pulling me mercilessly down into the abyss.