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Summary
Louis forced his hands down, looking straight up into Harry’s clear, green eyes—the eyes he loved more than life itself, the eyes that were about to be ruined by the truth.
“Baby.” Louis sobbed out, his voice breaking down the middle.
Harry held him tight against his chest, his hands trembling as he wiped another tear off Louis’s cheek. “Yes, darling. I’m right here. What is it?”
“I’m dying,” Louis choked out.
Harry’s world stopped.
The noise of the rain outside vanished. The warm air in the room went completely ice-cold.
Harry’s hand froze solid against Louis’s cheek, his green eyes wide, unblinking, locked onto Louis’s face as the air was sucked entirely out of his lungs.
Or
Louis is sick but Harry would be with him every step of the way.