Roseus | l.s

the last day

louis sat alone on the bench, with a gorgeous and big bouquet of red roses laying next to him. he wasn't sad, he knew this was bound to happen sooner or later. he just didn't expect his only light to die down so soon.

this afternoon he went to the flower shop with his bouquet, he wanted to surprise harry, but weirdly enough — the shop was closed. louis' doubts still hadn't got the best of him, until he was outside harry's apartment, repeatedly knocking and banging on the door. there was no use, harry wasn't in there.

"harold doesn't live here anymore, darling."

louis turned around to see an old lady unlocking the door of her apartment that was right next to harry's. his mouth hung agape, he wanted to ask why or how, or where he was now, but nothing came out.

louis did cry today. a bit more than he usually does when he's sad but after he cooled down he realised that there's no use in that. he was a big believer in destiny and that everything happens for a reason. this must be the way it's meant to be, louis thought to himself.

he wandered around the small town, he felt like sitting in one place for the entire day is not going to help the situation. in order to find harry, he must search for him.

and so he did. he went through the whole town, he's been to every place he and harry ever stepped onto, but there was no sight of the beautiful curly boy. louis' heart ached as he got back to the bench, the little park that's right across from the now-closed flower shop.

and that's when louis realised.

harry didn't disappear because he wanted to hurt louis or because he didn't want to be with him anymore. harry did a wonderful thing in louis' mind — he teached louis the purpose of his life.

louis suddenly felt so fulfilled but was already lacking that warm feeling of home harry used to give him.

he left the bouquet of roses on the bench — the one where it all started, that's where it will all end — the rain had started again, and the small droplets started landing on the roses and their vivid redness, just like the one harry got tattooed.

louis continued his way through the rain and wind, the fallen out leaves crushing underneath his timid steps. he kept his hands deeply stuffed into the pockets of his worn out black coat and thought of the greenness in harry's eyes.

his beloved english boy, the one he'll always remember, made him learn the purpose of life — memories.