i'm not the prettiest flower but i'll do

it was quite strange how a blinding smile belonged to such a sad boy

mood: trust me- the fray

Sunday, September 9th 9:31 am

There he laid so beautiful, so peaceful. Harry couldn't believe his eyes as he walked into the familiar home to see Louis laying on his bed: breathless. His skin was pale and his lips were blue, hair scattered across his forehead. He received news from Monet that Louis died just before his wedding with Zayn all the way from Holmes Chapel. On his journey back to London, he stopped by a local apothecary's shop to purchase poison because there is just no world without Louis Tomlinson. Before entering the house, a quick and victorious battle against the rebarbative, vile Zayn Malik, the man who stole his love away. Once he was slain, he begged to be laid next to his fiancé but Harry only scoffed, leaving him there to die and rushed to see Louis.

"O my love! My wife! Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath, hath had no power yet upon thy beauty: Thou art not conquer'd; beauty's ensign yet is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks," he stroked Louis' cheeks so softly, admiring his beauty. "And death's pale flag is not advanced there. Ah, dear Louis, why art thou yet so fair? Shall I believe that unsubstantial death is amorous, and that the lean abhorred monster keeps thee here in dark to be his paramour? For fear of that, I still will stay with thee; and never from this palace of dim night depart again." Harry took the ring he wore around his neck by chain to place on Louis' finger; after all, it was made for him. "O, here will I set up my everlasting rest, and shake the yoke of inauspicious stars from this world-wearied flesh. Eyes, look your last! Arms, take your last embrace! And, lips, o you the doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss a dateless bargain to engrossing death! Here's to my love!" He uncapped the vial of poison, placing it on his lips to swallow. "O true apothecary! Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die." He kissed Louis' lips and died on the floor right next to him.

Niall walked across the neighborhood with a lantern, for it was night, nearing the Tomlinson residence on his mission to be there when Louis awoke. "Saint Francis be my speed! How oft to-night have my old feet stumbled at graves! Who's there?"

Monet appeared from behind a building, bearing a torch in hand. "Here's one, a friend, and one that knows you well."

Upon sight, Niall's eyes lit up, welcoming the small girl. "Bliss be upon you! Tell me, good my friend, what torch is yond, that vainly lends his light to grubs and eyeless skulls? As I discern, it burneth in the Tomlinson's monument." They walk together, approaching Louis' house.

Monet nodded, pointing at the house, the door ajar and the faint twinkling light coming from inside. "It doth so, holy sir; and there's my master, one that you love."

Curiosity and confusion filled Niall wondering who was left to see the beloved Louis. "Who is it?"

"Harry."

"How long hath he been there?"

"Full half an hour."

"Go with me to the vault."

"I dare not, sir:" Monet took a step back brushing her hands on her coat. "My master knows not but I am gone hence; And fearfully did menace me with death, if I did stay to look on his intents."

Niall sighed, nearing the opened door. "Stay, then; I'll go alone. Fear comes upon me: O, much I fear some ill unlucky thing."