Black Coffee (Larry Stylinson)

Chapter 30

a/n: this is the last chapter until the playlist/thankyous and the epilogue. :( thanks for reading and keeping me smiling!! (last chapter you guys all commented and voted so much and i can't thank you enough for that xx) 

this chapter has been in my head since chapter 1, and now that it's here and it's written, im really scared it's shit so im sorry if it doesn't live up to anyone's expectations...... so..

*warning there is smut* *not that its much of a warning* *just letting you know* *although if you stop reading bc smut ??? what how*

anyways here's the last chapter and i'm just going to post it before i cry

chapter 30 

Louis sat on his couch, his arms wrapped around his middle, as if trying to physically hold himself together. The sobs were continuous even if it was a couple of hours after the fight. It was over, it was over. Harry would never be his, and he couldn't even have Ben. Nothing was his.

It finalized Harry's death. Harry was dead, dead, dead and he wasn't coming back. Dead. He wouldn't be able to hear his laugh when Louis said or did something idiotic. He wouldn't be able to taste his cooking again. He wouldn't be able to sit through his dreadfully long and wonderful pointless stories. It was everything that Louis couldn't have anymore. He couldn't have any part of Harry. 

Louis thought it was worse greiving for someone who was not yet dead, but he was so, so wrong.

It was a lot worse knowing that Harry wouldn't see his family again. It was worse knowing that Harry wouldn't get married, and start that family he would always dream about. It was worse knowing that he was the one who killed the boy he loved. 

Niall kept telling him not to blame himself, but what was he supossed to do? Pretend that the fucking fight didn't happen? That the last time he saw Harry, he was crying because of what Louis had said to him. He practically kicked Harry out of his life, and unknowingly prevented Harry from living his. It was an awful feeling and it made Louis want to rip his skin off, and bury himself in a ditch, because if was all his fault. 

And over the sobbing, and the loud thoughts in his head, he didn't here the engine of the car pull up to his cabin. The empty cabin that only held memories of his most painful times. Like the time he threw the glass bottle against that wall, and passed out and forgot about the shattered glass until he walked across the floor the next morning and cut up the bottom of his feet. Or like the time Ben barley spoke a word that day, and gave Louis the biggest, fakest grin, and Louis got so frusterated he flipped the coffee table and the leg snapped off. The leg was still a bit wobbly, a constant reminder of the frustration he felt that day, and every other day. 

But those memories, and those emotions, were nothing compared to what he was feeling now. The pain was so much worse.

The knock on the door had Louis jump slightly. Ben was pissed at him, and he didn't know of anyone else that would have wanted to see him. The boys, maybe? But they were still in London, probably trying to mend the broken pieces of the band that once again, Louis had royally fucked up.

He was ready to ignore it, but when the person on the other side knocked again and again, as if they knew that Louis was ignoring them, Louis groaned. Now wasn't the fucking time to introduce himself to his overly friendly new neighbors or some shit. Perhaps a package was delivered to the wrong house. And now some asshole on the other side of the door was being a dick.

Prepared to yell at the asshole, Louis opened the door, to a curly haired boy. And Louis stopped. Why would Ben have wanted to come back? Did he need to say more about he'd rather have Harry dead?