Autumn Leaves || larry stylinson one shot

Cancer.

It was the big 'c' word. The word to end all. It ruined lives, ruined families, ruined strong households.

But, to Harry, sicknesses like cancer were just what they were called; sicknesses. They had no feeling behind them. Every moment someone spent hanging on the word was another moment they wasted.

Harry embraced sickness, and just went along with it. When his aunt had passed away from breast cancer, Harry dealt with it. When his teacher announced he was going to be absent for some time because of his heart disease, but never came back, Harry dealt with it.

And when he found out that there was a tumor about the size of a peanut growing in his left lung, he, again, just dealt with it.

Because that's really all life is about. Dealing with what it throws at you.

Louis sighed as he sat on the little edge their window had, staring out at thr rainy London sky. The weather seemed to match his mood. Dreary and sad.

Finding out Harry had lung cancer was hard. The outcome being uncertain seemed to make it worse.

He stared over at Harry, who was reading silently on the couch, and sighed. His eyes took in every last detail of his boyfriend. From the dark, chocolate colored curls, to the pouty lips. From the bright green eyes down to soft stubble on his chin. His limbs were long and gangly, his skin a creamy pale. Harry was perfection in Louis's eyes. A perfection he never wanted to lose.

Harry felt eyes on him, ones that he grew familiar to. His lifted up momentarily, catching on Louis'. Harry smiled softly, placing a bookmark into the book he was reading.

"What's up, buttercup?" Harry asked, raising his eyebrows at Louis as he awaited an answer from his boyfriend.

Louis shrugged as he pulled his knees to his chest. He rested his chin on the top of knees as he stared blankly out the window in front of him.

Harry frowned, getting up from his spot on the couch. He stood up slowly, not wanting to wind himself. When he had got to the window seat, he sat across from Louis.

"Seriously, babe. What's wrong?" Harry asked, running his fingers over Louis' knees.

Louis looked down at Harry's hand and gently pulled it into his lap. He silently played with his finger, running his smaller fingers up and down Harry's. His eyes started filling with tears as he put it on his cheek, finding comfort in the warmth.

Harry knew instantly what was wrong with Louis, what was making him so upset. He sighed, pulling Louis close to him, comforting the man as he cried against Harry's chest.

"Sh, baby, sh," Harry whispered, running his fingers through Louis' hair.

Louis squeezed his eyes shut as he buried his nose in the familiar warmth. He clung tightly onto the shirt Harry was wearing as Harry's hands moved up and down his back.

He took a shaky breath, one that led to a small sob. "I love you so much," he said thickly, hiccupping. "I don't want anything to happen. I don't want you to die."

Harry let out a shaky breath, trying to keep himself together. He couldn't spend his time crying over something he couldn't control. He did, however, need to comfort his upset boyfriend. But Harry was stuck on what to do exactly. What to say, more like it.

He couldn't just say I'm going to be okay, don't worry, I won't die. Because, well, that was just false hope for the both of them. And he couldn't very well tell Louis to just deal with it.

Louis was different than Harry in many ways. For one, Louis was very emotional over the fact that Harry and been diagnosed with lung cancer. Two, Louis cried a lot when he was passionate about something. Harry rarely ever cried, and he especially never cried when others were around. Three, Louis had to be told the right thing right away, or else he would think worse case scenario. He spent too much time worrying and not enough time living.