A Second Chance - A Larry Stylinson Fanfiction

Chapter 4

This chapter is dedicated to Anything1D because they reminded me to update. It took a bit longer than I hoped it would, because of a field trip then lack of sleep, but here's the chapter and I hope you like it.

Enjoy(:

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Chapter 4

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My feet carry me swiftly to Eleanor's car, El and Zayn practically jogging to keep up with me, but smartly keeping their distance. My blood pumps loud in my ears, turning my vision red. My teeth gnaw at my bottom lip until it's gently oozing thick blood. Zayn's wet shirt clings to my skin, but I can't feel the cold. My fists are clenched tightly, leaving crescent moon shaped indents in my palms.

A few paces before Eleanor's car, a garbage barrel sits on the sidewalk and without thought, I immediately grab the rim, showing it back as hard as I can sending it clattering loudly down a dark alley.

"Louis!" Zayn calls, and I can hear the fear in his voice though he tries to disguise it. "The bloke apologized! Everything's alright!"

No. It's not. We reach Eleanor's car and I stand by the driver's side door, resting my fists on the top of the car and my head on my fists as I try to control my breathing. Eleanor and Zayn waste no time, scrambling into the car.

Guilt bites at me like a parasite, draining me of energy. Zayn could have drowned because of that curly haired bastard, but that's not what I'm entirely angry at. Of course I'm pissed as fucking hell at that, but the reason I'm acting out so terribly is the fact that because of the prick, I can't get my dead best friend out of my head.

"Are you sure you're okay to do this?" I ask Harry, squeezing his hand to let him know I'm here for him.

Harry takes in a deep breath through his nose and exhales slowly through slightly parted lips. He nods his head gently, "Yeah. I need to do this." He takes the first daring step through the open gate and I keep up with him, tightening my grip on his hand quickly to comfort him.

We walk along a path silently for a couple minutes before Harry abruptly changes our course to walk though the freshly trimmed grass. He slows to a stop about two meters from a large oak tree.

His green eyes are trained on the granite slat at our feet, reading his grandfather's name, birth date, and death date. The two of stand silently like that for a bit until Harry's soft voice breaks it. "I want to be buried here when I die." The way he said that sent chill to my bones. He'd said it as if he'd been thinking about it a long tine and only now had the courage to voice the thought, now awaiting the verdict.

"Then you will be. Right here, between your grandfather and this oak tree."

Harry slowly turns his head, sad green eyes meeting my blue ones. "Promise?" He whispers as if afraid that saying the one word too loud would take the meaning away in the wind. He teeth sink into his plump lip as he waits patiently for a response.

It really must mean a lot to him to be buried beside his grandfather based on the fear shining in his eyes. Just as quietly as he had, I whisper, "I promise."

Harry turns his head to look back at the stone at his feet with a sigh, whether relieved, sad, or exasperated, I can't be sure. He sinks into a crouch, slipping his fingers from mine as he places the single red rose he held in his other hand on the granite.

After a few lingering seconds, Harry stands back up, sliding his hand easily into mine. "Come on. Let's go home."

The gray Doncaster day fades away into a dark Wolverhampton night barely lit by flickering street lamps. Goosebumps rise on my skin from the wet shirt clinging to my body and I shiver. Pulling the car door open, I slide into the driver's seat without a word or glance at Eleanor or Zayn, simply starting the car and driving back to the university, desperate to get away from my memories.