Shelter- The XX: Harry finds Louis
Harry could not remember who he was; all he saw was Louis, his Lou, his Boo Bear, hanging in their closet, almost grotesquely comical, if not for his broken neck. A chair stood behind Louis’ motionless figure, serving as a battering ram to Harry’s consciousness; this was not real, this was not happening.
He must have been screaming, screaming for his baby, his love, but he did not hear. He heard nothing, felt nothing, only saw Lou. Harry collapsed in front of Louis’ suspended body, in a twisted form of worship, on his knees, underneath the only person Harry had ever loved in that way. The soft glow of the closet light mocked Harry, laughing at him as he curled into the fetal position, hysteria insidiously permeating his very being.
Unable to take his eyes off Louis, Harry realized that Lou was wearing his sweater; it had always been his favorite. His delicate feet were bare, inches from the seat of the chair, inches from what could have been. Blue eyes stared at nothing, blank as the oblivion that had stolen him from Harry. It was as if his chest was imploding, as if his body was caving in on itself; for a moment, Harry wished it would. But there was no escape. There was nothing left.
Harry did not know, did not care how long he lay there sobbing. He tried to pull out his phone, to call Niall, to call someone—but a jumbled text was all he could manage. He tried to read the response, but tears blurred his vision, and yet another wave of agony sucked him under, holding him in the horror of his reality.
A flash of white caught his eye, and Harry turned his head, staring blearily at what he slowly realized… was a suicide note. Grabbing it violently, he unfolded it, swearing as he cut his finger. Smoothing it out on his knee, he read.
First and foremost, I am so, so sorry. I never wanted it to come to this. You are—were—the best thing to ever happen to me. I will love you forever. Don’t you ever forget. But Harry—I wanted this. I’ve wanted it for a long time. Waking up each day felt like I was dragging myself through Hell; the people out there hate me, they hate me for what they think I am—was—never mind. All I wanted was to live, to chase what I had always wanted. I realize now that I wanted you; but it’s too late now. There is nothing left for me. I ruined my chance. For a long time, I could take it, just let it roll off my back, but it got to me, Haz. I believe them. I never told you, because I didn’t want to see you hurt like I did. No one deserves this. Shit, I’m crying all over this. The point is, that I love you. I always have, and I always will. If there’s a heaven, if there’s anything for people like me, I’ll watch over you. I’ll keep you safe, and maybe one day we’ll see each other again.
Yours, forever and always,
As he finished the letter, Harry’s eyes shifted out of focus, and in the fuzzy recesses of his mind, he heard Niall yelling, running down the hall. As he rounded the corner and saw Louis, he fell to his knees, a high-pitched keen emanating from his lips. Zayn and Liam followed in Niall’s tracks; as Zayn beheld Lou, he stumbled back, face contorting in pain. Liam strode into the closet and picked Harry up and carried him out of the closet, holding him as tightly as he could, tears falling in Harry’s dark curls as he struggled not to look at Louis. The four boys huddled together, unable to speak, all holding Harry as he fell to pieces, never to be whole again.
Sixty years later.
Harry shuffled slowly through the cemetery gates, carrying blood-red roses. Sixty years ago, on this day, his Louis had been snatched away him by the hate of the ignorant. In this time, Harry had receded entirely from the media’s attention, instead forming a suicide-support foundation, Tomlinson’s Second Chance. As he came upon the marble grave, he fell to his knees, as he had so many years ago, letting the roses spill upon the freshly-cut grass, still dewy with nighttime kisses, and hung his head, remembering Louis.
After a time, he collected the roses and laid them upon the plinth, and this time knelt, taking a gentle fist of the grass, remembering how Louis had always plucked at it when they had played soccer in the park.
It was these things Harry liked to remember; the Louis he had loved, the Louis he continued to love to this very day. In these memories, he felt Lou’s touch, the gentle, everlasting kiss he left upon Harry’s scarred heart.
He stayed the day, gray hair glinting in the sun. When night fell, Harry laid down, looking at the stars, twinkling just as Lou’s eyes had once done. Darkness tugged at his consciousness, and at last, he gave in, closing his eyes, one last time.
He was with his Louis, forever and always.
So Sad and beautiful!
Love to read this