Larry fics

skeletons

Nobody knows when it started.

They just know that things have spiraled out of control without them even noticing it.

Harry feels the worst. He blames himself and he thinks that everybody else does too, maybe just a little bit. He spends the most time around Louis, gets to touch the parts of him that nobody else gets to touch, physically and emotionally. He should've been the first to see it but just like everybody else, he's caught off guard and left stunned.

It happens after a show in New York.

They're backstage and still riding the waves of adrenaline that always come after an especially good show. Niall darts over to the spread of foodthat awaits them as Zayn and Liam begin wrestling with each other for no other reason than they're full of joy and residual energy. Harry watches the two scuffle from the couch, laughing at them.

Paul senses something wrong first.

“Louis? You alright?”

Everybody immediately glances over at Louis because they are all fine-tuned to each other to a certain extent and the concern in Paul's voice is obvious. It is a blip on all of their radars. They all watch uncertainly as Louis turns around from where he's been facing a half-empty rack of clothing and gives them a wan smile. He looks pale, really pale and something about him is just … off.

“Yeah, I'm fine, just going to go get some air.”

Nobody says anything as he makes his way over to the door. He stumbles at one point but none of them see anything that might've tripped him up, so they just assume that he's tired and clumsy. Or at least Harry does, because what else could it be? They go back to what they're doing, joking around and stuffing their faces. Not a minute later they hear someone yell 'Louis!' out in the hall and they all freeze, the echo of that panicked cry resounding in their ears.

Harry is out of the room first, flying through the door like Death himself is on his heels. He skids out into the corridor and sees a huddle of people crouching on the ground. Through a little sliver of space, Harry sees a man help Louis up into a sitting position. His heart begins to beat rapidly and he says something, he's not quite sure what, as he rushes forward. He drops down to his knees and wedges himself in between two crew members, hands outstretched.

Louis' eyes are blue. Which is obvious, everybody knows what color they are. But right now, they are almost see-through in their vibrancy, like a vase made of impossibly thin cobalt-hued glass. They're washed out and emotionless as they focus in on Harry's face, twisted with worry. He shrinks away from Harry's grasp, shaking his head so minutely that Harry almost misses it. Something clenches in his gut and he sits back on his haunches as two men lift Louis up onto his feet.

Harry looks up at Louis, questioning and pleading through his gaze, but even though Louis is looking back down at him, there is no sign that he actually sees the other man.

* * * *

Harry becomes Louis' caretaker.

Except it feels like he's taking care of an inanimate object, and in that case is he actually caring for anything at all?

He leads Louis to the couch each morning after helping him out of bed, one hand on one of Louis' bony shoulder and the other on his equally delicate elbow. Harry feels like he is assisting a blind man, the way Louis walks so unsurely and gracelessly. He is no longer the Louis Tomlinson that Harry used to know but some remnant of him is still here and so is Harry.

As Louis sits silently on the couch, Harry goes to make them tea. He leaves sugar and milk out of Louis' but fills his up with both, hoping that maybe Louis will get that mischievous smile on his face again and reach over to steal a sip of Harry's. The chances are low but Harry can hope, can't he? There is never any saying when luck may show up on his side. His life so far has been a strong testament to that.