Letters to Lou *Larry Stylinson*

Age 5

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" Everyone screams, once the birthday song finished. Darcy grins in the dark, as the five candles sticking out of the flowery pink cake in front of her illuminate her glittering blue eyes.

"Make a wish!" Liam reminds before Darcy could blow out the candles.

"Think deeply. This stuff actually works" Niall convinces, as Darcy stares at the candles contemplating. Her curly brown hair was tied up into two high pigtails, of which a birthday cone hat sat in between. Harry had spent hours buying all the birthday party gear, and it was all worth it when Darcy squealed at the matching pink balloons, hats, plates, and napkins.

"I've got it!" Darcy announces, before sucking in a large breath, and blowing out across the cake, shrouding the room in darkness as the candles flicker out. The room erupts in cheers and claps, and a few gurgles from Liam and Sophia's new baby girl, Maria. Someone flips on the lights, as Harry moves to stand behind Darcy, guiding her hands as she cut the cake.

"What did you wish for?" Zayn inquires, eyes brimming with mischief. Harry starts to chide Zayn, before Darcy shakes her head, refusing.

"Sorry Uncle Zee. Papa said not to trust you."

"Oohs" ring across the room as Zayn blushes but laughs heartily. Harry smirks, patting Darcy on the back. She beams proudly, sitting tall as if with a crown on her head.

Once everyone had their share of the pink cake, except for Niall, who got more than his fair share, Harry uncovers the presents that were tucked away in the kitchen closet. Darcy squeals at the pink wrapped boxes, each from the various guests at the table.

"Ooh! Open this one first!" Niall exclaims, shoving a messily wrapped box in front of her. Harry chuckles at Niall's eagerness, knowing he had spent a great deal of time choosing Darcy's present.

One by one, each present was opened. There were big boxes and small boxes, and Darcy's eyes lit with each one. Before long, only one present was left. Darcy's eyes glide over it, missing the only non-pink present: a crisp white envelope.

Harry clears his throat, catching Darcy's attention. She peers up at him curiously, as Harry tilts his head at the envelope. She stares at it inquisitively, picking it up and turning it over in her small hands, marveling at the unfamiliar messy script on the envelope. She raises her eyebrows at Harry.

"What's this, Papa?" she breathed, as other eyes stare at Harry curiously as well. Harry swallows thickly.

"Well, Dar Dar, it's a present. From Daddy."

Liam, Niall, and Zayn's heads snap up questionly at Harry, who keeps his gaze on Darcy, as she carefully untucks the flap of the envelope. Everyone watches as she slowly pulls out a folded piece of light blue cardstock, the stationery that was offered at the cancer treatment center a just city over. It is quiet as Darcy's eyes glide over the lines on the paper, her lips forming the words as her school teacher taught her to. Harry himself had never read any of the letters Louis wrote to Darcy, but he was always there, sitting in the cold steel chair next to Louis' bedside as he scribbled furiously on the hospital stationery.

Once Darcy finished reading, she looked up, giving everyone a strange stare.

"Why are you all staring?" she pouts, and a few chuckles break out. However the elephant in the room seemed ready to trample the whole party, so Niall piped up.

"What does it say?" Niall implores, before looking down sheepishly. "I mean, you don't have to-"

"-No, I want to practice my reading." Darcy interjects, grinning ear to ear. Although Darcy is almost always smiling, Harry notes a spark of excitement in her eyes. His head rewinds to the year before Darcy came into his life, and how, for three months, he sat by Louis' bedside each day, feeling blessed to have such long afternoons filled with nothing to do besides watch Louis tap the cap of his pen against his lip, deep in thought. Sometimes Louis would crumple up the letter even after it was half covered in words, claiming it was all wrong, or simply shake his head in frustration at a blank sheet for not knowing what to write. Whenever he looked up at Harry, however, there was always that same glimmer of excitement, knowing he that was writing to someone he'd never meet but would always love.

Harry knows that there is another life out there where he will wake up each morning with a warm body next to his, have to set a table for three at dinner, and will lean by the doorway each night as Louis weaves an abstract tale to their children, but this life is his now. In the small warm kitchen crowded with the bright faces of the people closest to Harry's heart, there is nothing more Harry can ask for.

Darcy holds up the letter as if it were a historic parchment, and clears her throat.

"Age 5. Dear Darcy..."

The End.