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“You came.”
“Of course. You called.”
“I did not,” Louis argued, no heat behind the words. He remained unmoving as he gazed at Harry from where he was sat at their large kitchen table, the room an echo chamber of loneliness. At least, ever since.
“You practically did, with that song choice,” Harry murmured, nodding towards the phone that lay on the table, playing Leather and Lace quietly. Their song. For the third time that night. It hadn't been a conscious decision; Louis had simply been sucked into a whirling trance of watercolour memories and bleeding emotions.
The song playing at their wedding. Dramatically serenading each other at a dingy pub at karaoke night. Belting it out with aching smiles in the car on that fateful night.
Louis shrugged, and in the quiet of the night, his words were loud, cracking when he spoke. “Missed you.”
“Me too,” answered Harry after a beat, offering him a small smile before turning thoughtful. “You’re up late.
“Couldn’t sleep.”
The look Harry gave him was devastatingly familiar, full of love and warmth, as he whispered, “C’mere.”
Holding a ghost in your arms was strange, and Louis still hadn’t gotten used to it. Harry was tangible; there, but not quite there. A washed out shadow that lacked the warmth from when he used to be alive. But Louis cherished it all, in all its oddness, in its incompleteness, in its lingering pain. He let the silence seep between them, never stifling, as the embrace flowed into them swaying in place, in tune with Stevie’s crooning.
Leather and Lace must’ve looped around twice, before Harry spoke softly, pulling away just enough to look at him. “You know why I’m here.”
Louis’ smile flickered. “Because I called?”
Harry smiled, sorrow brimming in faded greens. “You have to move on, love.”
For a whirlwind of a moment, Louis felt a surge of emotions: rage, betrayal, grief, disbelief, heartbreak. Because how dare Harry say that to him, like it was so easy. He wasn’t the one who got left behind to mourn. But it settled, and he was left with just an ache. Always that dull ache.
“I cannot lose you,” he replied finally, hating how his voice trembled.
“Oh, sweetheart,” Harry sighed, cupping his face. “You won’t. We created a life together, but also a love. The life…” Harry trailed off, his smile withering.
He took a breath before continuing. “What we had, we lived to the fullest. The love, however? That never ends.”
Pain roared like a storm as Harry thumbed his cheek, like he always had. “You’re keeping me by keeping me in your memories. I’m always with you. But you need to let go.”
Louis felt his lungs and eyes burn. It wasn’t enough.
“You’ll always be my only love,” he said desperately, thinking maybe, if he tried enough, he could pretend Harry was really here. Harry leant in and brushed a kiss against his lips, an airy caress. Louis ached.
“I hope not,” Harry murmured with a frown. “I will always love you, and you will have love for me forever, but I hope you’ll let love in one day. You have the biggest heart I know; a heart like that deserves to be filled with as much love in return.”
Louis couldn't say anything to that, afraid he'd shatter. On some days he could breathe, but on significant days like today - their anniversary - he wished deeply that he hadn’t been lucky enough to have survived.
Like Harry could hear him thinking, he brushed his fringe away, whispering, “You'll be okay. I promise.”
And when Harry promised, Louis believed him. Always.
They spun around in slow circles till everything else blurred, till fatigue caught up to Louis. They sat down together, and feeling the weight of it all, Louis tipped his head back, eyes slipping shut.
The last thing he registered before he fell asleep was Harry’s feather-like kiss on his forehead, as he whispered,
“Sweet dreams, my love.”