Letters to the Author -Larry Stylinson

chapter twenty

"I hope you have fun with your family," Louis says from where he's sitting, clutching a pillow to his chest as he watches Harry packing his bag, zipping it up quickly before throwing it over his shoulder.

"Thank you Louis. I hope you have fun with school," Harry smiles, looking up at him. "I'll come visit soon, yeah?"

"The door is always open." Louis pauses. "Well, actually..."

He goes to open his door and grabs the key from underneath the mat. "Here. You can have this. Whenever you want to come, you can."

Harry stares at it, sitting in Louis' hand, and his eyes are wide and full of surprise. "You're... you're giving me a key?"

Louis nods.

"Lou," he breathes, before dropping his bag and pulling Louis in for a hug. Louis hugs him back, loving the way Harry holds onto his waist and the back of his head tightly, pausing before pushing his forehead into his shoulder gently. "Thank you, you have no idea how much this means to me. I'm gonna... I'm gonna miss you so much."

Louis looks up at him, biting his lip and smiling warmly. "I'll miss you too, Har-" he begins to say, before Harry is leaning in and kissing him, his fingers wrapping softly around the back of his neck and his breath warm as he kisses Louis gently and slowly, so slow and warm. He tastes wonderful, and the way he breathes into Louis' mouth instead of pulling back before kissing him again really feels amazing.

"Goodbye, prince." Harry picks up his bag off the floor, slinging it over his shoulder and standing there for a second.

"Goodbye, Harry," Louis smiles sadly. "Call me when you get settled there, yeah?"

Harry nods, frowning a bit when he opens the door. "This is so hard," he mutters.

"Hm?" Louis asks.

"Leaving you was hard enough. But coming back and leaving you again is so horrible."

Louis rushes to him and hugs him once more. "It'll be okay," he whispers into his ear.

"I hope so," Harry says in reply.

***

1 YEAR LATER

The wind is loud in Louis' ears as he walks through the quiet streets of Doncaster.  It's cold outside, but he's only wearing a soft long sleeve shirt and a pair of skinny jeans.

He could see quite far ahead of himself; the yellow beams from the street lights illuminated the whole block. He was in the suburbs, going for a walk. Houses with neatly trimmed lawns and fences surrounding them were lined up side by side, lights twinkling from inside.

He wasn't sure why he was out here; maybe it was due to the fact that he felt lousy.

There were goosebumps on his arms, and he rubbed them with his hands. 

He was finally where he needed to be.

He sat down on the rock, pulling his knees up to his chest.

"Hi," he whispered, although there was nobody there. Harry said he would be there.

All he got in response was a gust of wind, making him grit his teeth and bury his head in his knees.

He pulled his phone out of his back pocket. He had no messages; no calls. With shaking hands, he typed in Harry's number and called him. No response. Like always.

"I miss you," he told the darkness, a chill running through his body.

He wasn't on the street anymore; he was on a rock at the edge of pond on an empty lot. There was soft, long grass beneath his converse. Of course he was here alone. He had been for the past 4 months.

Harry had written him a later a few months to tell him to meet at this exact spot. He was on tour, but he said he would make time. 

Obviously not, Louis thought.

Harry had written the sequel to his book Amnesia, basing it on his happy conclusion with Louis. Louis felt as if Harry had finished their story, and then forgot about it. Because one day, after a particularly awkward and melancholy visit, he never came back. He wrote a few letters, but that was it.

"You should chase after him," Niall had said.

"I already did that once," Louis said in response.

And here he was, sitting on this rock like an idiot, shivering from the cold weather. He licked his chapped lips, squeezing his eyes shut when he tasted the saltiness of his tears.

"Don't cry, Louis, it's not worth it," he told himself. He wiped his tears with his fingers, but no matter how many times he did it, his cheeks were still wet. It frustrated him.

Harry wasn't here. He wasn't going to be here. Harry didn't care about him anymore. 

It made sense, didn't it?

Because Harry didn't care enough to come back the first time. And it's the second time, and he still doesn't care enough.

He doesn't care that Louis sends him a goodnight text every night without a response. He doesn't care that just a week ago, the sadness became too much for him, and he held Duchess and let out the tears he had been holding in for months.

Louis didn't cry much. But when he did, it made him realize just how much pain Harry was making him go through.

He thought that maybe he deserved it. Harry had gone through the same loss. Except, Louis didn't purposely ignore him. He just forgot.

He still has my bloody key, Louis thought.

Louis wanted it back. He wanted the stupid key back. He wanted his stupid heart back. Because he was doing fine before Harry. He wasn't doing good, but at least he didn't miss anything.

"I knew you wouldn't come," Louis said in a strangled voice, his throat constricted by his tears. "I knew you'd leave me."