high flyer // l.s

e i g h t

Death's dark arm wrapped around Harry, tugging him to somewhere unknown.

"Are you taking me to...heaven? Or hell?" Harry asked, afraid.

"Before I take you anywhere, there's something I want to show you," Death bristled. "Something I show everyone who opts out of life much too early."

Harry closed his eyes as Death whisked him far, far away from his collapsed corpse.

He didn't open them until Death forced him to.

He didn't want to see the catastrophe, the ruin, the death.

He just wanted his life back, his Louis, his Gemma, his Zayn.

"Open your eyes, Harry."

And he did.

What he saw made him tear up, because if it wasn't the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, he didn't know what was.

There was Louis, still tan and short and beautiful as ever, tapping his foot impatiently, frowning at the bathroom door.

"If you don't hurry up, we'll be late for Grace's dance recital!" Louis rolled his eyes, banging on the door.

Harry then noticed the greyness to his hair, the thinning of it, the wrinkles beside his eyes. He was still beautiful, but he'd grown.

He'd aged.

He'd lived.

"Hold on, old man!" A voice yelled from behind the door, humour in the words Harry hasn't heard in what feels like forever.

"I am not that much older than you!" Louis scoffed. "So if I'm an old man..."

"Shut up!" The voice said back.

"What're you doing in there? Trying to curl your hair again?" Louis grinned, love in his eyes.

The sight made Harry's heart ache because Louis used to look at him like that.

"Get over it, Haz. It lost its curl and it's not coming back."

Harry released a deep breath.

Haz.

"Oh, it will come back," the voice said. "And it has."

The door opened and Harry stepped out. Only he was years older, grey throughout his hair, wrinkles by his eyes. He look aged, but still the same old Harry he'd always been.

The same Harry that Modest! had taken away.

"Still curl-less." Louis rolled his eyes, grinning. "But I love it."

Older Harry grinned, leaning down to kiss Louis' lips.

Younger Harry gaped at the scene, tears in his eyes. He'd have lived a long life with Louis. A long, healthy loving life.

And it was all over because he'd thought he was done. That there was nothing left for him.

Oh, how wrong he was.

"So, you see, Harry," Death said, "You'd have lived long and happy and free. Here, you're forty-five years old. You and Louis have been out of the closet for over twenty years and it's not been an easy journey, but you would've done it. Had you not opted out," Death frowned. "He loves you so much, you know? So much he was willing to opt out as well. Just to be with you."

"Why do you keep saying opt out? You make it seem like I had a choice!"

Death stepped in front of Harry, eyes glowing with anger. 

"You did have a choice, Harry. You could've stayed, lived through your little depression and fear and anger. You'd have had this--Louis, a house, your best-friends' daughters' dance recitals--you'd have everything you'd ever wanted...but now it's all gone. All gone because you were selfish. So selfish that the entire band fell apart because of you."

"It's not my fault!" Harry wailed, hands fisted at his sides.

"You're a generation of excuse makers, you know that? It is your fault. You opting out ruined it all. Zayn doesn't have any kids--Hell, he doesn't even get to age thirty before he dies of anorexia. Harry, it's all your fault!" Death snapped.

"Well, how am I supposed to fix it if you're taking me out of the rotation?" Harry snapped back. "Maybe it is my fault. Hell, it is. But you're removing me, taking my life, along with the rest of One Direction."

"You're playing a dangerous game, kid," Death glared. "Don't try to guilt me into letting you live."

"I'm not guilting you into anything. Maybe you're just feeling guilty."

"You're testing my patience," Death sighed.

He even looked guilty.

In that four-year old who stole from the cookie jar kind of way. Or as close to it as an immortal being with a haunting stare can get.

"I just want you to know all the death and sorrow and pain you're adding to the world by keeping me out of it. I'm one little popstar. No one'll notice if you throw me and the rest of One Direction a bone and keep me in rotation. It's several less souls you'll have to collect, you know," Harry pleaded. "I'll change, I swear to God. I'll be happier, brighter. I'll tell everyone the truth. I'll donate more, like Elton John! I'll come out with Louis. I'll do anything I have to. Please, Death. Please."

"I'm sorry. There's nothing I can do."

Surely there was plenty he could do!

He was fucking Death! No one told Death what to do. He was his own boss, his own dictator.

How could he let someone dictate him?

"How could you just let other people boss you around? You're the baddest arse around and you're letting other people dictate your decisions? You can do what you want, when you want!"

"No one tells me what to do, Harry," he said, voice thick.

Harry hoped that this was going to work and that it wasn't going to get him sent straight to hell.

"I have another thing to show you," Death said and Harry sighed, because Death was nearly as stubborn as he was

-j