Shoreline.A Dunkirk adaptation.

One.

1940

>L

"Harry, Harry, wait. Wait!" Louis shouted. Harry stopped in his tracks and slowly turned his head to face him.

"Louis, I have to go. I have to. You know I have to." His voice was slow, quiet, dragging on like a slow motion film. Harry looked down the hallway at Louis, the love of his life, the man he knew he'd marry someday, with tears  slowly tracking their way down his sharp cheekbones.

Louis walked towards him, reaching his hands out to Harry's, which he took in his with no hesitation.

"Please don't go. Please. Just stay, we'll run away together, get out of here, get away from all this. Just please don't go." He begged. Harry pulled in a sniffle, reaching one of his hands up to wipe away the tears starting to fall from his eyes. He pulled Louis into him, wrapping his arms around his small body and holding him tight.

"I have to go. Lou, I'll come home." He pulled out of the hug, grasping Louis' face in his hands and holding him there, looking as deep into his eyes as he could. "I promise you, I will come home."

"What if they find out about you? You'll get persecuted and harassed and discharged and what if they kill you or something? Harry what if they kill you..." Harry can see the panic in Louis' face and he can see the terror in his eyes. He leans his head down to press his lips to Louis', taking hold of him with every fiber in his being. Giving Louis all the love and reassurance he can muster.

"They won't find out. I'll be fine. I'll be home soon. I promise you." He kisses the shorter man again, tasting the salt on his lips from the tears.

"I love you, Harry Edward Styles. You had better come back to me." Louis pulls away from the kiss, taking in every detail of Harry's face that he could. The crinkles under his eyes when he smiles, the dip of the dimples in his cheeks, the flawlessness of his peach skin. Harry leaned down once more to press a final kiss to his lips. A sad, longing, painful goodbye kiss.

"I love you, Louis. I promise I will come back to you. I will always come back to you." And with that, Harry swung the green duffel bag over his shoulder, pulled the army cap over his short hair, and walked out the front door, leaving Louis in the now quiet, empty house.

Louis feels his hands twitch and he all but sprints to the front window, trying to catch a final glimpse of the soldier walking down the roadway before he finally disappears completely into the inside of a beat up looking old cab, taking him away from Cambridge towards London.

Towards the war.

He feels something in his chest crack and tremble and he knows that the tears have made their return. They trickle down his cheeks as he pulls a pillow into his lap, hiding his face in the plush surface and letting the water spill freely from his eyes.

>H

When he finally arrives at the train station, Harry is met with herd of people dressed in the matching brown uniform that covers his own body. He hears men shouting to hurry up and board the train, women and children crying at their husbands and fathers' goodbyes.

Harry sees a man and a woman interlocked in an intimate embrace, the man holding her so tightly to his chest, his hands tangled in her red hair. Her face is pressed tightly into the crook between his shoulder and his head, taking in the smell of his cologne for the last time. Harry feels a surge of jealousy wave over his body, wishing so badly that he could have what they have. That he could love Louis the way the man loves the woman.