All That You Are Is All I'll Ever Need

22

There is a wide expanse of nothing inside of Harry; fields and fields of questions and apologies and no’s, yet none of them get answered. Louis tries to find a tangible form for the words 'he’s gone,' but he keeps coming up short as he rubs Harry's back and wipes away his tears. If he could have any wish, it would be that Harry had the powers of a phoenix; he could go out in a blaze and remake himself from his own ashes.

(Sometimes Louis thinks when Harry goes vacant, it is because he is hearing his voice again, other days, he thinks it is because he thinks he is trapped in a room with no doors or windows, the only noise is a constant playback of the sound of silence.)

Harry is tucked in bed. He was up all night crying, and now his body is sunken and his eyelids are a pale purple, only opening half way. Louis stirs the pot of noodles that he is cooking on the stove, squirting in lemon juice and sprinkling in bay leaves for extra flavour.

He types in the number written on the piece of paper that is stuck to their refrigerator. He presses his cell phone to his ear and turns the stove off, pushing the pot of noodles to the side.

“Hello!” a woman's voice chimes, “my name is Jesy and this is the Westfield County Library, what can I do for you?”

“Uh, hello, Jesy,” Louis says, chewing his lip, “this is Harry’s boyfriend. H-”

“Louis!” he hears through the phone line.

“Uh, yeah. That’s my name.” he says, almost confused.

“God, does Harry go on and on about you, dear.”

Louis smiles, surprised by what the girl- Jesy- is saying. He can’t help but to smirk, “Does he really?”

He hears the girl scoff through the phone line, “Prettiest eyes, softest lips, stinkiest feet, big cock, and apparently the best arse around.”

Louis laughs, he can’t help it. He feels himself blushing as he shakes his head, “Yeah, sounds like me.”

“Oh, that’s just 8% of what he says about your looks. We can’t even go into your personality, it would take years to tell you all he’s said.”

Louis doesn’t know why he has the sudden urge to snuggle his face into a pillow and squeal, but it’s there, and he isn’t going to push that feeling away.

“Anyway, love,” Jesy says, “why you calling? Harry isn’t here, he doesn’t have to get here until…” she trails off, and her voice strains in the way where Louis knows she is leaning to look at something, probably a time schedule.

“Oh no, that wasn’t why I was calling,” he starts, “he isn’t feeling too well, actually.”

He hears a soft ‘aw,’ through the line.

“Yeah, not feeling great at all, really.”

“Poor thing, I hope he starts feeling better. I can easily cover for him, so tell him not to worry about it.”

“Alright, I'll tell him.”

“And Lou? Is it okay if I call you Lou? That’s what Harry always says,” she trails off, “anyway, Lou, you better take good care of him for me. I won’t allow for anyone hurting my babydoll.”

Louis wants to coo. He just- it’s so thrilling to know that there is someone else who cares for him like he does, even if he doesn't know who they are.

“Don’t you worry, love. He’s in good hands.”

“Oh, that’s another thing he said you had!”

Louis snorts again, saying a short goodbye and hanging up. He can’t help but to smile, really. He does wonder why Harry has never told him about knowing anyone named Jesy, though, because of the sound of it, they seem pretty close.