blue surrender [l.s.]

7. never fade in the dark, just remember you will always burn as bright

the light behind your eyes - my chemical romance

***

Harry sighs as he falls into bed, groaning at the feel of the plush beneath him. He'd just gotten home with Louis dropping him off. He even made Louis play one whole Taylor Swift song on the way back home. (He's such a rebel, listening to pop music on a Wednesday. That's not even like him, he usually just listens to an orchestra he likes.) And, anyway, he survived all of his dates with Louis every night this week (survived as in not making out with Louis every single time he saw him), so Louis took him home early so he could call Gemma.

Which, Louis understood. He's such an angel.

Grabbing his phone off its charger, he immediately pulls up Gemma's contact and presses the call button. He puts it on speaker as he hauls himself out of bed and to the laundry room downstairs with his hamper wedged between his side and right arm.

"Harry!" Gemma chirps when she answers, and Harry grins as he sets the hamper down next to a washing machine in the vacant laundry room.

"Gemma, my love. How are you?" he asks, so very happy he gets to talk to her. These days lately, she'd been too tired or worn out from radiation to pick up the phone.

"I feel so good, Harry. Healthy. Just got back from a date with Brent. You?"

"That's so great, Gem, really. I'm happy you're okay. And, I'm good. You said Brent? Where'd he take you, McDonalds?" Harry snorts, stuffing his clothes into the washing machine.

"Oh, hush! If you care at all, he took me to Olive Garden." Gemma laughs.

"Olive Garden! Yikes, did he order those godawful breadsticks?" he retorts, sitting on top of the dryer across from the washing machine and watching his clothes turn soapy.

"The breadsticks are damn good, Harry. He got me some soup-"

"Soup? Soup! Your boyfriend of two years got you soup, even though he knows what you usually order from Olive Garden!"

"Harry! Leave Brent alone, at least he took me out," Gemma can't help but laugh, knowing her younger brother is quite protective over her. She doesn't mind at all, in fact, it soothes her when Brent doesn't call for days on end or ignores her on their dates.

Harry sneers. "Yeah, yeah. I guess he's alright. Still treating you well, I suppose?" he asks, just making sure, hoping so.

Gemma doesn't speak for a good minute.

"Gem?" Harry presses gently, shaking his head. "I swear when I get up there, I'm going to beat his ass-"

"Harry. It's alright. I'm okay. He's not hurting me, or anything like that. Just doesn't call half the time I'm in the hospital. And, when I am home, he only shows up when he wants to. He took me out tonight to apologise, and he really is sorry, Harry. We still love each other very much." Gemma tries assuring him the best she can through the phone.

Who does Brent think he is?, Harry thinks, pondering over Gemma's words. He's losing Gemma day by day, and he doesn't even call her just to make sure she's doing alright. Stupid fuck, he'll be crying to Harry when he goes back to London in a couple days, and Harry will tell him to kiss his ass, honestly.

"Yeah, alright. But I swear to God, Gemma, if he starts putting his hands on you or uses you or cheats on you, he's done for. I'll kill him, don't think I fucking won't," maybe Harry's not serious, or maybe he is. He's tired of Brent acting like he's stripped of his responsibilities of taking care of Gemma just because the hospital does it for her half the time. Sometimes Gemma doesn't need medicine or chemotherapy, sometimes she just needs someone to hold - someone she's unconditionally in love with, someone who's not her brother (who just so happens to live a different country).