How Did it Come to This?: Larry Stylinson AU

How Did it Come to This?

It wasn't the same. That's all there is to it. Sure, the sky was still the same old blue, the clouds were still a flawless white, and the grass was still a bright green. The stars and moon still hung in the sky at night, and the earth still rotated, suspended in outer space. But it just didn't feel the same. Nothing did, really. Zayn commenced heavily smoking again; Niall seemed to be constantly drunk; Louis had the slightest temper, and constantly threw tantrums; and Liam's entire bank of emotions ceased to exist, as if somebody flicked the switch to shut him down.

Everywhere they went, they felt Harry was there. Louis' house, the studio, the tour bus, venues, everywhere. The fans that tracked down their every last moved acted like the lingering shadows of Harry's death. It would creep up behind them when they least expected it, taking their laughter and ripping it into shreds. They no longer smiled because Harry was there in the back of their minds, chanting whispers and bringing back Harry's memory in floods, overwhelming their brains. Even in places they've never been to, Harry was there.

Even when they all gathered at Liam's, hoping to ease the depression. Niall showed up tipsy, stumbling into the room while greeting everyone with a somber expression and a slight upturned lip. Zayn turned up baked as a cake, and Louis didn't show up for a couple of hours.

"Sorry I'm late," Louis apologized. "I was just sitting in Harry's room." That was something that he did a lot. He would sit atop Harry's bed, wrapping himself in his duvet, snuggling and smelling Harry's scent that still lingered. Or sometimes he'd just sit on the floor, putting one of Harry's beanies on, looking around the room at everything almost exactly the way he left it. It was advised by his therapist to stop doing so, as it would only make Louis sadder. A tear rose to his eye, but he quickly wiped it away before anybody noticed.

"It's alright. You didn't miss out on anything." Liam said groggily. His sleep deprived face attempted to flash a smile at Louis, but it only looked terribly depressing. Louis let himself in, sitting on the sofa beside Niall. Niall reeked of alcohol. You could smell it when he spoke, or even exhaled. It radiated off of his skin as if it was seeping through his pores. Louis remembers a time when Niall smelled of a lovely cologne, Harry's favorite. But Niall hasn't put it on since Harry left for a drive and never came home. He still owned it, but he'd refuse to ever do so much as look at it.

“So, um, Louis,” Liam said with a weak voice. It sounded as if he had been crying for hours on end. “How are you doing?” Louis felt a wave of sadness wash over him, but he pushed the lump in his throat down and forced himself not to cry. Not now, Louis. He told himself. There’s a time and place for everything, and this is not the place to cry.

“I’m okay.” Louis blatantly lied. If anything, he was far from okay. He had punched mirrors and windows and thrown things across the house. He’s broken holes in walls in the middle of his tantrums. He had written stories and diary entries to his dead boyfriend, even though he knows he’ll never read them. Louis has cried and prayed and glued himself to his bed, sleeping all day, waiting for the pain to go away. He was depressed, upset, lonely, bottled up, distressed, and an overall mess. But he didn’t want the boys to know. So he said he was okay.

“Bullshit.” Zayn mumbled under his breath. Liam and Niall glared at him with evil eyes. If looks could kill, Zayn would be long past dead.

“Oh shut the fucking hell up, Zayn. You don’t know shit about how Louis feels.” Niall said in a plastered Irish slur. Zayn just rolled his eyes and buried himself back into the screen of his phone, doing god knows what. “Just don’t mind him, mate. He’s high as a cloud.” Niall remarked, gently rubbing Louis’ shoulder in attempt to comfort him.

Zayn shot up from the corner that he was sitting in, tossing his phone on the ground. He angrily stamped towards Niall, pulling him to his feet by the collar of his shirt. Niall could smell the aura marijuana from Zayn, and Zayn could smell the beer emanating from Niall. Zayn’s eyes were filled with anger as he lifted his hand and punch the blonde straight across his face. Liam gasped.