Chapter Text
Louis' fucked up. He's such a bloody idiot, honestly.
Now that he's knocked some sense into that thick skull of his, he can see where Harry was coming from. He did it for Louis, it was always about Louis when it comes to Harry, and now he's fucked up, and on their anniversary.
Now he doesn't know if Harry will even show up for their dinner date.
Like I said, bloody idiot.
But he will, that's the thing. Harry will show up, because he's Harry, and it's Louis. And for all the shit that they've been put through to get to where they are right now, Louis honestly doubts that Harry would miss a date of theirs on their anniversary just because of a stupid fight.
Louis will probably reach the restaurant (late, always late. But Harry will be early, always, always, early.) to the sight of his boy sitting on their usual table, green-eyed and gangly-limbed and curly-haired. He won't notice Louis' arrival at first, instead staring into space, or staring on the screen of his phone, with the corner of his lips curled up in the hint of a smile.
Louis allows himself to be transported back to 2010, at the X Factor house. They were so young and carefree and so bloody in love, God, not that they aren't now, but honestly, even Niall, Zayn and Liam couldn't stand to be within a 10 mile radius of the two of them then. Larry Stylinson, people'd said. It was the type of love that was so easy, it had come so naturally to Louis, that it used to scare him a little, they were so young, that's the thing, they were kids when they first met. It wasn't in-your-face, but they might as well had been screaming in peoples' faces. Look at us! We're in love!
Louis remembers the first time he'd caught Harry smiling into space, it was the day after their first proper kiss, where Harry had come stumbling into Louis' bed, green eyes wide and brows furrowed. "Louis," he remembers Harry whispering, and he'd looked so overwrought and skittish, like a scared little kitten, that Louis immediately wrapped him into an embrace and rubbed his hand on his back in little comforting circles.
"Lou," Louis remembers him whispering between dry sobs on his shoulder, "I think I'm in love with you."
That was when they'd shared their first kiss, the first of millions and millions of HarryandLouis kisses shared over the years. Louis thinks that it may have been the best one yet.
The first time Louis'd caught Harry smiling into space happened to be the first time that Harry wasn't already looking at Louis when Louis glanced over at him. Louis remembers slipping his hand into Harry's (because he can do that now, and the thought made him a little giddy) and giving him a soft nudge, "What are you thinking 'bout, Haz?"
Louis remembers Harry blinking into space slowly, once, as he tightened his grip on Louis' hand and met his gaze, "You."
One little word, one little answer, but it somehow turned out to be the answer to everything.
Louis remembers slipping his hand out of Harry's to cup both of his hands on Harry's jaw, tentatively at first, thumb stroking over his cheek. It was the second HarryandLouis kiss, and it may or may not have been the first time they went pass second base.
But most importantly, it was the first time that the thought had hit Louis, I'm in love, I'm nineteen and I'm in love, and the thought made him want to climb up to the highest mountain and shout it out for the whole world to hear, I'm in love with this beautiful boy! And he loves me back! We're in love! Instead he'd tightened his grip on Harry and kissed him senseless.
It's been exactly 10 years, and he's never stopped wanting to kiss him senseless since.
Over the years, that little smile on Harry's lips as he stared into space has made countless, countless appearances. Always the same question, always, always the same answer. 16 and 19 are now 26 and 29, and they just might be the answer to every single one of the other's questions.
Louis imagines walking into the restaurant and catching his boy staring into space with that stupid smile on his stupid face, and he imagines walking up to him and asking, all nonchalantly, "Watcha thinking 'bout?", and he imagines the little smile on his boy's lips morphing into a full-blown Louis Smile, complete with signature dimples and signature love and fond and affection and soft and green and gold in his eyes as his gaze meets Louis'. And he'll whisper "You", just like the millions and millions of times before.
Louis is so ridiculously, stupidly, childishly in love with him, still.
The thought of his boy makes Louis smile as he fixes his tie in the mirror, and once satisfied that he officially looks hot enough to meet his favourite boy on the day of their anniversary, he grabs the bouquet of roses and walks out of their flat into his car, humming a little to himself, previous fight long forgotten.
Louis walks into the restaurant, bouquet of roses in hand, and he searches the restaurant for his boy. He searches, and searches, but there's no sign of green eyes and curly hair.
Louis slumps onto his seat, a tiny bit deflated, but still excited nevertheless, because it's Harry, and it's been 10 years, but still, it's Harry. Louis thinks that it might be a tad ridiculous that the thought of having a date with his boy would still give him butterflies in his tummy after 10 bloody years together, honestly. But it's Harry, and everything is ridiculous with Harry, really.
Louis is just really glad that he's found someone who not only could give him stitches in his sides from laughing too hard, but could also make his heart beat erratically and tummy churn in the most pleasant way possible, every day of the past 10 years, and every day of the next 20, 40, 60 years they're undoubtedly gonna spend together, Louis is sure.
Louis glances at his watch, it's already 15 minutes past 7, and his heart lurches a bit. Harry is never late, has never been late for a date with Louis for the past 10 yea - fuck, he's still mad at me, the unpleasant thought crosses his mind, and he presses the speed dial on his phone with a leaden thumb.
No one answers.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
They've obviously had a number of fights over the years, and countless of fights that were much worse than the one they'd had this afternoon, but never, Harry would never not pick up Louis' call on purpose, would never miss a date just to prove a point, he would never. No matter how mad, and it's their anniversary, for fuck's sake.
Louis' heartbeat picks up unpleasantly, and he fidgets in his seat. What the actual fuck is going on?
He dials Harry's number again.
And again.
And again.
Still no answer.
Louis pockets his phone and picks up the bouquet of roses from the table as he stands up from his seat, and he sees a girl around his age, maybe a couple years younger, walking towards him with an apprehensive smile, teeth biting over her lower lip.
"Hi.....Louis," she says as she reaches Louis, "I used to be a huge, huge, huge fan of yours. Still am, to be honest."
"Oh," Louis smiles warmly despite the ominous weight in his stomach, it's always nice to have former fans approaching him after all these years, "hi there, love!"
He opens up his arms in invitation, and the girl hugs him for a moment before suddenly squealing, "Oh, I'm so bloody excited for your reunion tour! My sister got us both tickets for one of the shows!"
Louis' smile gets even bigger as he says, "I'm so excited too! As are the boys!"
The girl grins at him before suddenly noticing the bouquet of roses, "Oh, are you waiting for Harry?", and her smile gets even wider as she squeezes her eyes shut for a second, like she can't really believe this was happening, before exclaiming dramatically, "you two are so bloody cute together! T'was so, so brave, what you two did back then. Am so bloody proud. Best day of my teenage life, it was."
Louis feels the blood flow in his veins quicken, he still gets a little giddy thinking about that day, to be honest. Best day of his life, it was, too.
"Thanks," he holds up his right hand in a fist, and the girl bumps their fists together, laughing, as he exclaims, "Larry for life!"
"It was really, really nice meeting you, Louis, but I've got to go," she stretches out her hands for a quick hug, "Bye!"
Louis grins as she walks out the door with quick footsteps, but his grin immediately turns into a frown and his eyebrows scrunch up, there's the weird feeling in his stomach again.
Louis' just about to start walking towards the door, when his ringtone makes him jump a little.
Harry, he thinks, as he fumbles for a bit in his pocket before holding up the phone in front of him.
It's not Harry, it's a foreign number.
He holds the phone up to his ear nevertheless, his stomach drop, drop, dropping, it's now reaching his thighs.
"Hello?" he speaks into the phone tentatively, his stomach dropping a little bit more in the process, it's now at his knees.
"Mr Tomlinson?" a female voice comes from the other end, "You are listed as Mr Harry Styles' emergency contact -"
Louis feels his stomach drop to his feet.
No.
No.
No.
He squeezes his eyes shut as the voice continues, the words washing over him, his brain not quite processing them.
Hospital. Car accident.
Harry.
Harry.
Harry.
His Harry.
"- could come over as soon as possible, -"
"Fuck," he manages to whisper, "I'm on my way."
Louis drops the bouquet of roses on the floor.
Everything is so silent that he almost hears the quiet thump as the flowers hit the floor, and a few delicate petals fall out from the flowers.
His head hurts.
And he runs, run, he's running. Everything seems like a blur. He's doing this on autopilot. His brain is a constant chant of HarryHarryHarryHarryHarryHarryHarry. He's a short distance away from his car, but it feels like miles away. He runs, he's running so hard he feels as if his lungs are going to burst.
Louis fumbles with the keys a bit before squeezing his eyes shut for a few seconds. He has to focus. Focus. He has to get to Harry. Harry.
He opens his eyes before slamming down on the accelerator, he's biting his bottom lip so hard he can feel a faint metallic taste. It's drawing blood.
He drives, and he honks, and he drives, and he feels like screaming. He feels like screaming his fucking lungs out.
He's reaching, he can see the building, he's reaching. He's getting closer to Harry.
Everything is a blur, so he screams out the only thing in his brain as he reaches the counter.
"Harry!" Louis screams hysterically, a few people are glancing over, but he doesn't fucking care, "Harry!"
"Mr Tomlinson?" a nurse is approaching him, he recognises her voice as the one who was on the phone with him.
His vision is turning blurry.
"Yes," he manages to croak.
His head is killing him, it's pounding so hard. All the blood in his body is rushing to his brain.
The nurse is saying something, but his ears are buzzing, it's buzzing so, so loud.
Everything is a blur. He can't hear anything except for a deafening buzz in his ears, and his screaming thoughts of HarryHarryHarryHarryHarryHarry.
It's almost in slow motion as he feels his knees buckle, and it's almost in slow motion as he feels the gush of wind.
He's a millisecond away from hitting the floor, he feels people crowding over him, the nurse is shouting.
Harry, he manages to think, before he feels a sharp thud behind his head, and his vision goes blank.
Louis opens his eyes, and it's so blinding, everything is so blinding.
"Harry!" Louis screams as the previous events rush into his brain, "Harry!"
And he's tripping down his bed, and he's running, he's running, a few nurses are approaching him, he doesn't fucking care.
"Mr Tomlinson!"
It's the nurse again, and Louis stops running. He doesn't know where he was running towards, to be honest. All he knows is Harry and Harry and Harry.
The nurse reaches over with a tentative hand to touch Louis' arm, "Follow me, Mr Tomlinson. Mr Styles is still in the operating room."
The nurse leads him down a million halls, and his head hurts. His ears hurt. His eyes hurt. Everything hurts.
His heart hurts.
They reach the front of a room, and the nurse touches his arm once again in a comforting gesture before walking away, and he's leaning on the wall, everything is spinning as he slides down the wall to sit on the floor.
He feels like the walls might be closing in on him.
Louis slows his ragged breathing as he buries his head on his lap, heartbeat a deafening thump thump thump. Is this what it feels like to be Niall? With a million fans surrounding him as his claustrophobia attempts to drown him?
Except that Louis is not surrounded by a million adoring fans right now.
He's surrounded by his own demons.
Louis hears the door click open, and everything is moving in slow motion. The door is swinging open in slow motion. The doctors and nurses are walking in slow motion. Louis lifts his head in slow motion.
No, he mouths as he sees the look on their faces. No.
He's seen enough movies, he's watched enough shows to know what this is.
No.
Everything is in slow motion. The doctor is shaking his head in slow motion.
"I'm sorry," the doctor says in slow motion.
They walk away in slow motion.
It takes a moment for Louis to realise that the inhuman, gut wrenching sound is produced by his own throat.