All Those Missing Pieces; Niam & Larry *Completed*

Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

~Harry~

“I know you’re really busy Liam, I just need you to do something for me.” I say urgently, watching Louis talk to the receptionist about the Wi-Fi code as I tap my foot impatiently. “I need you to go get another German Sheppard puppy, I lost Leam’s.”

“You lost a cancer patient’s first dog? Your awf-“ Liam began, launching into a long lecture.

“I know an awful person! Just go get another dog and a collar and tag and stuff! Please she’ll be heartbroken and she’s all drugged up and I feel so bad...” I whimper, watching Louis turn around and make his way to me.

“Fine, Haz. You owe me one.” In then he clicks off and I hear the dial tone. I slip my phone into the tan pocket out my trousers and cover the distance between me and Lou in three, lengthy strides. I wrap my arms around his waist, pressing my cheek to the top of his head, smiling a little in spite of everything.

“Your queen awaits,” I tell him softly, rubbing the tense spot on his neck, I can practically feel his smile. I know that’s his favorite spot to be rubbed.

“She may be my queen,” Lou says jokingly, stepping away from me and smiling cheekily, “But you Haz, you will always be my princess.” He ruffles my curls, tugging on the ones at the nape of the bottom of my neck. My sweet-spot.

In then he walks away from me, like my heart wasn’t roaring in my eyes and there wasn’t a serious red blush to my cheeks.  I squeeze my hands in to fists, rolling my shoulders and popping my jaw in an attempt to loosen up my tense muscles. I watch the small of Louis’ back, the way his back muscles clench and unclench as he walks with a minor swing in his step. I can vaguely hear him humming something. Speeding up my walk I look around me as I go. Lots of patients. All of them kids, some with shaved heads, others lounging. All of them sick looking, with hunch shoulders and defeated expressions. I don’t want Leam to end up like this, caged and sad. A nameless, faceless person in the sea of sickness. Thinking along the same lines as I, Lou slides up beside me as we slowly waltz into the elevator. When the doors shut Lou flings himself at me, wrapping his thin arms around my waist and burying his head in the crook of my neck. He giggles as one of my curls tickles his cheek.

“I’m scared,” He whispers, his lips grazing my neck as I bite my lip to force down a shudder. I try to make my voice strong.

“Of what, baby?” I test this uneven ground with shaky feet, how will he react? Will he push me away? Instead his grip around me tightens until I feel like I might hurl, but I let him. I will always let him. I swirl a few strings of his hair around my finger, my index finer getting caught in a snare. I work on the knot as the elevator dings, telling us in glowing yellow numbers that we’ve hit floor 7.

“Hoping,” Louis says, stepping away from me. My eyes lock on a bright green poster behind his head, advertising how much fun washing your hands can be. I look at it with penetrating olive eyes, like it might tell me the secret of life. I hear my friend clear his throat, and I watch as he wipes vigorously at his eyes. In then he does what all great actors do, breaths deep and flashes an infallible smile. It looks real.

But not real enough to convince Leam.

He slips past me silently, gripping my hand so hard my knuckles are turning white. We slowly glide down the hallway, and I keep my eyes downcast. I don’t want to see the sad faces of resigned children. The faces of those who will open the door for death when he knocks with open arms. I try to sniffle back tears as Lou leads me back to the chemo-room. I try to call on some deep hidden strength, drawing myself up to my full, lanky height and staring at the back of Louis’ head as we push open the brownish door to the chemo-room.