Louis looks up at the glowing clock on the wall. 3:47 am. He rubs his eyes and sits up in the stiff chair he fell asleep in, turning on a lamp and staring ahead of him at the bed in front of him. A steady and slow beeping rings throughout the room, telling Louis that Harry has managed to stay alive throughout the night and Louis lets out a sigh of relief. He stands up and walks over to the small bed. Harry looks small and fragile, wrapped up in wires and blankets from head to foot. A gray beanie (that just so happens to be Louis’) sits on his head and Louis smiles a bit. Harry swears it keeps his headaches away but Louis knows he’s lying. Harry’s headaches never go away anymore.
They found out just over a year ago that Harry had a brain tumor. He’d had a headache all day long but shrugged it off; they had a concert that night, he couldn’t afford to be sick. But when he collapsed on stage and didn’t wake up for a few days, Louis knew it was something serious. The doctors did everything they could, surgeries for almost a month straight, but it was too late. The tumor had grown far more than anyone could have imagined, even Harry, and there was nothing they could do. Harry was going to die and nothing in the world could have prepared Louis for that.
Louis looks down at his boyfriend and feels tears prick at the corners of his eyes. Harry looks haunted, black around his eyes and on his neck. His skin is paler than he ever remembers, almost transparent. Louis knows that if Harry woke up, his head would practically be splitting open and his voice would crack with every word. Harry can’t even find the strength to sing anymore which has hit them the hardest. Harry is like a porcelain doll; one wrong move and he starts to shatter.
Louis’ hand rests on Harry’s face, his thumb rubbing tiny circles on his cheek. Even like this, Louis thinks he’s the most beautiful boy he’s ever seen. He leans down and kisses Harry’s chapped lips, just enough to put a tiny bit of pressure. Then the beeping on the machine next to them stops and all Louis can hear is a long buzz; Harry’s heart has stopped. Louis starts to scream, the sound erupting from his throat before he can even gather a thought.
“Somebody help! We need help in here!”
Louis slams his hand on the red button behind Harry’s bed over and over but it feels like an eternity before anyone comes into the room. He can’t keep his eyes off the monitor next to him, watching the flat line and that god damned beep in his ears like a foghorn. Doctors and nurses come rushing in, pulling an AED from the closet next to the bed. A nurse pulls Louis away from the bed, begging him to leave the room; he ‘doesn’t want to see this’ but Louis pushes her away. His Harry is going to be just fine.
Louis hears a ‘CLEAR’ and then he can’t look away as Harry jolts up from the bed. His tears cloud his vision as they seem to shock him three, four, five more times and Harry’s heart never restarts. The doctor tells another nurse to call time of death and Louis starts to scream.
“No please, please, just one more time. Please, I’m begging you, just one more time.”
The doctor leans down and looks at Harry, biting his lip. He turns to the nurse and she meets Louis’ eyes. He mouths another ‘please’ to her and a tear falls down her cheek. She gives the doctor a nod and after a ‘1, 2, 3, CLEAR!’ Louis hears the shock and holds his breath, praying for a miracle. After five long, excruciating seconds, a slow but steady ‘beep, beep, beep’ reaches Louis’ ears and he starts crying again, his knees giving out and he tumbles to the floor.
--
“Mr. Tomlinson, he doesn’t have much time left, you know that.”
Louis looks down at the floor, blinking away tears.
“How much time?”
“A week… maybe less.” Louis can’t stop the hot tears from falling and he grips his hair in his fist. The doctor puts a hand on his shoulder and grips it tightly.
“Mr. Tomlinson, we’re willing to let you take him home so he can enjoy his last few days with you. We will send nurses to your house and they will check up on him and make sure he’s comfortable. That’s all we can do.”
Louis snaps up his head, hatred bubbling up in him like lava.
“No.”
“Mr. Tomlinson –ˮ
“NO! You’re not going to give up on him! He’s not going to die, not now.”
Louis shoves the doctor away and runs down the hall and out the main doors of the hospital. The air is crisp and cold on his face and it sends a shiver down his spine. He grips at his hair again and lets out a scream, trying to release the frustration, the hurt, everything. He can’t live without Harry, he’s barely had any time with him, just a few short years. Harry is his world, his light in the dark, his everything. He’s not gonna die, he’s not gonna die. Louis chants it over and over inside his head and everything time he repeats, he wonders if he even believes it.
--
“Another round, please.” The bartender looks at the ten other bottles around Louis and raises an eyebrow. When he sends him a venomous glare, the bartender just reaches around and grabs him another bottle and slams it on the counter. Louis chokes back the harsh liquid quickly, draining half the bottle in three gulps. Louis lays his head on the counter, feeling warm but empty, thoughts of Harry alone at the hospital swirling around his brain. He hears someone clear their throat next to him and when he looks up, a women is next to him, smiling down at him.
She’s breathtaking, even by Louis’ standards. She’s tall and lean, with straight black hair down to her waist. Her eyes are a deep brown, almost black, but there’s a light ring of red around her irises. That’s odd, Louis thinks, but he pushes the thought away.
“Can I help you?”
Her smile widens and she places a hand on his leg, gripping it tight.
“No, but I can help you.”
YOU ARE READING
One Life for Another
RomanceMaking deals with the devil was never something Louis Tomlinson had planned on doing in his life. But when Harry got cancer and they were hoping for a miracle, he was willing to do anything: even trade his soul for just five more years with the love...
