Star Crossed: Forbidden [larry]

Chapter XXI: Tribute

Today was the day. The day that I wished to skip over each year. The day that I hated and dreaded most. I would be doing so well and then the day would arrive and all the sorrow of that day would return. Mother nature seemed to agree with that theory seeming so that it seemed to rain every year on this day and this year was no exception. I could hear the rain from my bed where I still lay even though it was already noon. I had no plans of getting out of bed today. I rolled in the bed trying to go back to sleep, hoping to sleep the day away. But regrettably so, once I was up, I was up. So, reluctantly I got out of bed, fished out my grey sweatpants and a baggy sweatshirt and threw them on. I headed down the hall, Gemma had found a house and was moving out next week. There were boxes all around the house filled with her things, making the day twice as depressing. I drained out the little energy I had on this day and made some tea then slumped onto a chair staring out at the grey weather with the rain pouring from the sky with a mug in my hand. It had been four years ago today that Chloe was shot. I remember getting that life changing phone call and nearly dropping the phone when I heard she was at the hospital in critical condition. There were thunderstorms that day but nevertheless, I raced out of the house driving to the hospital she was at, running stoplights and going above the speed limit to get there as fast as I could. Nothing could prepare me for what laid before me at the hospital. Chloe’s mum, Diane was sobbing in her dad, Peter’s arms. They uttered the words I was incredulous to hear. I ran to the room they said she was at and there she was. But she wasn’t really there. Her lifeless body was being covered with a body bag and her lifeline was flat. Her flesh was paler than a ghost, her hair laid dead flat on her face and there was a bloody open bullet wound in her chest. That was not the Chloe I knew. I remember sinking to the floor of the ICU and sobbing, screaming for her to come back. But she never came back.

I wanted to die that day, leave the world with her. It wasn’t like we had only known each other for a few months or only dated for a little while. I had known her my whole life, she lived right next door, on the house opposite of Niall’s. She was my best friend, I had grown up with her, took my first steps with her by my side, went to the carnival for the first time with her when I was five and she was the only girl who didn’t have cooties, baked my first meal with her help when I was eight, watched my first PG-13 movie with her when I was ten, had my first kiss with her when I was twelve, she was the first girl I asked out, and when I was fifteen, she was the first girl I had sex with, she was also the first person I ever loved that wasn’t family, and then at sixteen she became the first person I ever lost, the first funeral I ever went to. I loved her and there was still apart of me that still loves her and there will always be a part of me that will love her. I went through a deep depression after her death, didn’t leave the house for weeks, luckily it was summer so I didn’t miss any school. I would spend almost all my time cooped up in my house, watching the world change around me as I stayed stuck in the past. I didn’t touch a stove for months, ate only a meal a day, and only went outside when Niall or my parents forced me out. I would spend days in bed, not ever leaving it except to go to the bathroom. Months went by and people started getting over her loss but I was still stuck in the past. Before school started back up, her parents sold the house and moved back to England. When school started, I didn’t put any effort into any of my work, which wasn’t usual for me, who was usually a straight A student but those years I only passed because of the teachers sympathy for me. When the depression didn’t go away, my parents started to worry, so they took me to a doctor, who suggested seeing a grief counsellor and taking antidepressants. So I started on a low dose of Cymbalta and went to a counselor once a week. It didn’t help though. And soon it was the one year anniversary and I was still stuck. That was when I was the worse. I couldn’t take the pain anymore, I wasn’t even living anymore, just existing. So, that night, I snuck a bottle of wine from the cellar and downed far too many pills down my throat. My parents found me a few hours later and took me to the hospital where they pumped my stomach, bringing me back to life against my will. I was on suicide watch and ended up staying there for a couple weeks learning how to properly grieve. And when I arrived home from the hospital, I started getting better, going outside more, doing better in school, hanging out with Niall more, and eventually started dating again. But I never dared to forget the memories I had with Chloe. I kept them stored away for days like today when I missed her the most. I had told Louis all of this a while back, on the first date. I remember the sympathy in his eyes. He hugged me and told me I was the strongest person he had ever met.

“You have anything to eat yet?” Gemma asked bringing me back to the present. I wondered how long she had been in the room. I held up my tea and she shook her head with worry.

“Any food?” she asked with concern. I shook my head, still staring out at the rain.

“Want me to make you something?” she asked. I shook my head and she sighed.

“Harry, you have to eat.” I just wanted the day to be over.

“It’s been four years, Harry. You have to move on, fullily.” I didn’t want to though, I didn’t want to act like she had never been in my life, like she hadn’t left a huge impact on my life.

“I’ll be in my room if you need me, H.” She kissed my hair and left the room.

I hadn’t gotten a single text from Louis, not that I had expected to, he had work today and he probably didn’t even know today was the day. So, I spent my day reflecting back on memories of Chloe and I as I watched the day fade by. I was rather surprised when I heard a knock on the door after dinner. The rain had stopped now and was replaced with stars and a full moon that lit up the sky. I opened the door to see Louis. He looked at me for a mere second then pulled me into a hug, running his hand up and down my back in a comforting motion. When we pulled back, I saw two lanterns by his feet with a lighter. I crooked my head at him motioned towards the lanterns. He dragged me outside onto the driveway with the two lanterns in his hands.

“She’s watching over you, you know that right? She’s still here, Haz,” he said softly as he planted his feet in the middle of the driveway, looking up at the sky.

“She’s up in the stars now with my grandma,” he said pointing up at the stars that shined down at us. We fell silent for a moment.

“What’s with the lanterns?” I asked.

“The living send lanterns to the sky to let the dead know that they’ll always remember them.” He grabbed the lanterns and handed me one.

“It’s time to move on, Haz. That doesn’t mean forgetting what happened nor the memories you two shared together. It means coming to peace with whats happened and accepting that there’s nothing you can do to change what’s happened.” He grabbed the lighter and lit both of the lanterns.

“To moving on,” he said as he let his lantern float up into the atmosphere.

“To moving on,” I echoed as I too let go of my lantern, letting go of all my regret and dread, and finally, fully, moving on.

AN:

The lantern is a symbol of moving on in this story.