Did You Say Louis Tomlinson? (Can't Fight This Feeling Sequel)

Chapter 15

Marcel's POV

Waking up the next morning, everything feels fine. But when the memories of the previous night come back I feel like I might be sick. I jump up out of bed awakening Louis. I run to the bathroom. Down on my knees at the toilet. Vomiting into the white basin. I feel Louis' hands on my back comforting me.

"That's when you really love someone ey? When you can put up with their vomiting." I try to joke. He smiles but it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

I make some toast while he makes coffee. I show him how I climb out onto the chilly fire escape and we sit in silence for a long time.

"Merry Christmas," I speak up. I had barely realized that's what it was.

"The last Christmas morning I'll ever have." He remarks sadly.

"Stop it," I say looking down.

"Its the truth, isn't it?" He snaps.

I've been so selfish. I haven't even thought about how he must be feeling about this. I was whining like it was his choice. It's not.

•••
*still Marcel's POV*

We check into the hospital later that afternoon. Louis gets undressed and into his hospital gown. The doctor comes in. He's trying to explain to me what's wrong with Louis. I want to listen, I want to understand. But it's flying right over my head. I just nod at the right times and eventually he leaves. Louis has been laying on the bed with his eyes closed. I assumed he was asleep but then he speaks.

"Can I ask a favor of you?"

"Of course, Babe" I say sitting. He shudders at my use of 'babe'. But the good kind of shudder.

"For the last few days, can you dress the way you used to? With your hair done like it used to be?" He sounds embarrassed. His soft and nervous tone of voice makes me want to cry.

"Of course." I say trying to bring a smile for him.

"I still have all of those clothes at the dorm. I'll go get them and buy some gel. I'll be gone a bit is that alright?" I ask nervously. The idea of leaving him makes me scared. Like if I leave he'll blow away in the wind and I'll never see him again. I guess I haven't really accepted that he will leave me soon.

"Okay." He manages a small smile.

•••

I come back to the hospital around an hour later. I check in and take the elevator up to Louis' floor. When Im almost to his room I notice the doctors streaming in and out of it. Something's wrong. I run there and a doctor holds me back from entering.

"His body is going into shock. We've given him a drug to help the pain. He's almost stabilized. You can enter then." She says like a script. No emotion at all.

"He's going to die today then?" I ask unbelieving.

"We think so." She says and scurries away.

I slump against the wall and slide to the floor. I sit staring at the white tile floor for what feels like hours. My thoughts are just scramblings of 'Louis is dying in the room next to me'. I don't cry I just stare. I keep running over the words 'Louis is dying' and no matter how many time I do they still seem like a question. They still seem like a foreign language I can't read. Eventually a doctor comes to me and tells me I can go in. I think they've given up on him because they've cleared out and it's only me. I sit in the chair by his bed. I take his hand in mine. His eyes are closed and he's sleeping. He looks dead though, and if it wasnt for the heart monitor telling me differently I would think so.

"That's not fair Lou," is all I say at first. Like I'm waiting for a response.

"We were supposed to have more time. I was going to take you to the beach. We were going to see the view from the hospital roof. Watch late night TV in your room. Id play you meaningful songs. You'd fall asleep with your head nuzzled in my neck. We were gonna spend a day or two just talking about nothing and everything. You'd get too horny one day and ask me to give you a hand job under the covers, or some other shit. That's how this was supposed to go, Louis. You weren't supposed to-" and then my voice finally breaks and I start crying. It's the worst crying I've ever experienced. It's worse then the time Louis tried to comfort me without the right memories to. It's worse than it all. I'm not even sobbing violently. It's the quiet weeping that makes your head hurt. I stay like this for a long time until I feel Louis' fingers move in mine. His eyes have slowly opened.

"Louis?" I say rubbing my cheeks.

"I'm not ready, Cel."

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