Tfios (Larry Stylinson)

Chapter 23

April 21st - Day 93

The first thing I heard when I reached Harry’s room were voices, raised just past the point of civility. I paused to listen by the door, not wanting to head in, afraid of what I’d find inside. I didn’t recognize the speaker, tremulous female tones that leaked out into the hallway. I held my ear as close to the doorframe as I could, trying to catch pieces of the conversation.

“It was nothing. I’m fine, I’m really fine!” I could hear the desperation in Harry’s voice, a bit rough like he was sliding apart. My insides twisted up, hating how broken he sounded, hating that I could make it better.

“But what if you hadn’t been alright?” There was a pause and then something I couldn’t catch.

“I just didn’t want you to have to come all the way down to London for nothing.” He replied, and I could practically see the expression on his face, the way he’d crumple ever so slightly.

“Well maybe you shouldn’t be in London! Maybe you should come home where you belong!” The speaker’s voice rose back to an understandable volume, her identity suddenly becoming clear. Harry’s mother had never been something we talked about all that much, a mysterious presence that hovered on the edge of our consciousness but was never brought up. I always had the impression that Harry loved and cared about her, but I hadn’t once seen her in the months since I’d known him. 

“I don’t want to go home. You can’t make me go home. Robin works in insurance. They pay for it and I don’t want to go.” There was a franticness there, quick sentences that crumbled in the middle and came back together like puzzle pieces that fit but didn’t make the right picture.

There were softer words then, muffled and a little bit pleading. 

“No, Mom.” Just loud enough for me to pick it out. “That house reminds me of dying.”

Which seemed like a funny thing to say when the place he was comparing it to was a hospital.

“I just don’t know what to do with you anymore, Harry.” Softer, like an admission of guilt. “I don’t know.”

“It’s okay.” A soft rustling of covers like he was reaching for her, or maybe like she was sitting down. I wished I could peek inside and see, to hold his hand while he did this, but then, Harry was always stronger than either of us gave him credit for. He would be okay.

“I know. I just know one day you’re going to be gone and I’m going to wish I’d had you just a little bit longer.”

“You’ll always have me, mum.” He replied, and I felt a sudden soaring sense of loss for reasons I couldn’t quite put into words. I thought of my own mother, the way she’d look at me like I was something fragile when she thought I couldn’t see. How losing me was literally losing a part of her. 

Losing a child isn’t ever really beautiful or poignant. It’s cruel in the way the world should never be.

The conversation had dropped to murmurs and I stepped back from the door, heading slowly down the hallway, the low rolling noise of my oxygen tank following me down the tile.

This morning, he needed her much more than he needed me.

April 22nd - Day 94

Harry 11:16 AM

Missed you yesterday.

Louis 11:17 AM

I visited, but then I remembered I’m not the only one who loves you.

Harry 11:17 AM

You should have come, it would’ve been nice to have you.

Louis 11:18 AM