Work Text:
From his position across the street, Harry watches as the neon sign flickering in the record shop window switches off. It's time. He moves towards the alley where he knows the attractive lad who owns the place will soon be walking to his car. Something about tonight feels different. At first, Harry thought it was the weather. A thick layer of fog rolled in earlier, blanketing the neighborhood and obscuring the moonlight, making everything darker than usual. Now that he's on the move though, he doesn't think it's the weather that's responsible for the eery feeling in the air.
"Boo!" The other man shouts, spinning around to face Harry who startles and stumbles awkwardly, clutching at his chest in surprise. "You do know I can see you, right?"
"Wha— what d'you mean? How?" Harry stutters.
"Seriously?" The man fixes him with an irritated look, cocking an eyebrow.
"But, you're… " Harry flails his hands around uselessly trying to grasp the words he can't seem to find. "You're… not dead."
"M'not?"
"No! I mean… you're not, right? You can't be." Harry worries his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger.
"Harry— "
"You know my name?"
The other man laughs. "You're kidding. Do you honestly not remember me?"
Harry shakes his head, looking down at the pavement, feeling equal parts confused and ashamed.
"It's me, Louis." He takes a step closer. "I know it's been a long time but, I just thought… you kept coming back… every year. I thought maybe you still… I thought maybe we'd finally get it right, but… " he sighs, looking defeated.
Harry's heart sinks into his stomach. Why doesn't he remember anything from his life?
"If you saw me coming back here each year, why did you wait until now to talk to me? Why didn't you say something sooner? "
"I couldn't."
"What do you mean, you couldn't? Why— oh." Understanding washes over him. "But you could see me? How?"
"I couldn't exactly see you. It was more like… a feeling? I guess," Louis tries to explain. "I could sense you were nearby. A few times I even thought I saw your shadow. Felt like I was losin' my mind at first," he snorts. "Eventually, I chalked it up to it being Halloween and figured it was just my imagination getting caught up in the spookiness of the evening."
"Wait, if you're no longer alive then why are you still here, working at the record shop?"
Even in near darkness, Harry notices a faint blush creeping up Louis' neck. "Um," He ducks his head and kicks the toe of one of his sneakers against the other. "M'not working. Obviously. I guess I, um… I came because I was hoping you'd come too." When he lifts his head to look back up at Harry, a shy smile spreads across his face.
"Oh." A flash of something, a memory maybe, crosses Harry's mind. It's fleeting but unmistakable. An image of Louis, head thrown back in laughter. Harry is there too, holding an Abba record and looking embarrassed. They're so young. "We met here," Harry recalls.
"We did," Louis confirms. "I'd just started working at the shop part-time that summer. You came in nearly every weekend and you had the worst taste in music," he giggles.
"Hey, Abba is great! You're just too big of a music snob to admit it," Harry teases him.
"M'not a music snob!" Louis swats playfully at Harry.
The moment his hand makes contact with Harry's shoulder, it's as if Harry's been struck by a bolt of lightning. Millions of moments, memories of the two of them together come rushing through Harry's mind. Vivid images of them flirting as teenagers, the tension growing just as they themselves did.
"Lou," Harry murmurs, grabbing hold of his hand. "I remember. I remember everything."
A single tear spills down Louis' cheek. Harry swipes it away, leaning in close and pressing their lips together.
"Can't believe I had to die for you to finally kiss me!"