One Meaningless Promise

One Meaningless Promise~21

"Mr. Tomlinson, something has gone wrong."

Louis feels like he's spinning, though his feet remain stationary on the white tile. His head is a full of a black fog, and the only thing he is thinking is Harry. His Harry. Something gone wrong with his Harry. Louis' throat feels like cotton as he swallows.

"W-what do you mean something has gone wrong?" Louis questions, sticking out an arm to catch himself as he stumbles into a wall.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Tomlinson. I hate to inform you tha-"

Louis can feel his lungs pumping erratically and his heart drops to his toes. His mind is processing the situation and he keeps asking himself questions that he knows he can't answer. All he needs is those few words to understand completely what is going on. He convinces himself that the nurse is wrong. Harry can't be dead. No, no he was just with Louis an hour ago, sleeping on his bed. His beautiful boy, his large body molded around the shape of Louis' small one, the slow, deep rising and falling of his chest as he breathed, his hot, bare skin against Louis' back, his soft curls tickling his face. He couldn't be dead....

"N-no, he's not," Louis interrupts, partly protesting against the nurse's statement, partly convincing himself that Harry was not dead.

"Mr. Tomlinson, I don't know how-"

Louis stubbornly shakes his head and pushes past the nurse and into the room.

"He can't be," he chants to himself as he turns the doorknob and steps into the room.

It's cold in the hospital room, but for some reason, he expected it to be. His eyes instantly fall on the white hospital bed on the opposite side of the room. He barely notices the other nurses standing solemnly, surrounding the hospital bed with their heads bowed, because he can only see his Harry lying in the hospital bed, the white sheets drawn up over his torso. And there's also a strange noise...like a constant, high pitched, droning whine. Then it hits him.

Louis can barely see past the tears that make invisible wrinkles in his vision as he stumbles towards Harry, nearly knocking over every piece of high-tech machinery on his way. He collapses beside the bed, his knees and shins slamming on the cold, hard tile as he lunges towards the bed. His hands frantically search the stiff sheets until they clasp around a large, familiar hand. But it's wrong. It's cold, and it doesn't squeeze his hand back. Louis looks up, his guy clenching in horror as he sees his love's lifeless body. Harry is pale, but paler his usual delicately milky complexion. His eyelids are closed over his eyes, and when Louis lays a shaky hand on his chest, there is no movement.

Louis' face contorts into an expression of agony and cold tears--almost as cold as Harry's hand in his own--roll down his cheeks. There's an animalistic scream fighting, clawing its way up from deep inside of Louis, but it is stuck in his throat.

"M-my Harry..." Louis whimpers, hiccuping as he struggles to control himself. "My baby, oh god, Harry!"

Breath isn't coming easily enough to Louis and the constant tears in his eyes make it impossible to see. He's gasping for air as he shakes Harry's arm, then again, and harder, still receiving no response. He's calling out his boy's name, but is not answered. He's kissing his cheeks and lips and face, but this time, his kisses are not returned. Louis can't even breathe, he doesn't believe that this is real. This is supposed to be the part where he wakes up from this terrible nightmare, just to find his boy's long arms wrapped around his body and his soft voice telling him that he's alright, that it's only a dream. But this time, it's not. This time, he's living out his biggest fear. Harry is gone.

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Harry can see black. Or maybe he just can't see at all. Is he dead? He feels detached from his own body, but he's still aware that he's thinking. And he's also aware of the noises that seem to be coming from every angle of this black abyss he's trapped in; they sound muffled and distant. The noises are horrible, something Harry never wants to hear again. They're shouts, they're cries, they're wails of agony. Sounds that could only mean unbearable pain.