one shot: you left (harry/louis)
summary: In the early hours of the morning, to the shock and surprise of Harry Styles, best friend and band mate of five years ago Louis Tomlinson shows up on the doorstep of the flat they used to share. Why did he leave without saying goodbye?
notes/warnings: major character death, alcohol abuse
*****
Dawn. From the chair in which he sat clutching a near empty bottle of liquor a young man watched the sun rising through the open window. The house was all but quiet, except for the sound of the occasional car starting somewhere in the street, or bird singing its morning tune. Harry sighed. It never used to be this quiet in the shared space. Through his drunken stupor he could only just manage to recall the images of a happier time to the forefront of his memory. At least the birds were still happy enough to sing.
He’d barely so much as spoken to anyone outside of his immediate family and closest friends for five years. Twenty-three years of age and he’d missed out on so much, all by his own choice.
No. Not his choice. Not his fault. He couldn’t help the state he was in.
He drew in a sharp breath as he examined the memories of stage performances, interviews, road trips… The best of friends, they were. And of course, Harry knew they’d had the best of fun. He could never live up to that on his own. At twenty three, he’d come to the understanding that life would never again come even close to the way it was at seventeen. And he’d begun to wonder daily whether he’d ever learn to smile again. He sighed; the alcohol was beginning to wear off, and sleep deprivation beginning to take over.
A small noise at the front door caught his attention. A key, turning in the lock. He probably should have been worried, but he dismissed it. He had not cared about a single thing in five years. Why start now? He turned away, half expecting it to be Liam checking up on him again, and half expecting himself to be hearing things - the was probably nobody at the door in the first place.
The door creaked open, and Harry stood from his chair.
“I’m a big boy, Liam, I can look after myself,” He said, turning to face the figure that had materialised in the doorway.
He blinked, once, twice - hard. The bottle slipped from his fingers, and shattered as it collided with the tiled floor.
“Not-Liam-,” Harry choked out in surprise.
“No,” spoke Louis, softly. “I’m not.”
-
The two boys stared at each other for at least five minutes, neither willing to be the one to break the silence. Harry didn’t even know if he could speak - he was completely overwhelmed by his own thoughts. It couldn’t be. He couldn’t be back. Nothing at all for five years, and he just showed up on the doorstep and walked in like he never left. And there he was, the sun shining through the window, illuminating his face.
Louis took a deep breath. “Haz… I’m so sorry,”
“Don’t call me that,” Harry replied, voice breaking. “Don’t call me that. It’s Harry… to you.”
Louis looked hurt, yet understanding, and began again. “Okay. Harry.”
There was a second long silence. Harry felt almost ashamed of himself, snapping at Louis like that, but Louis brushed it off, breaking their pause once more. “Please…say something. Anything.”
Harry could feel all of the arguments and words and sentences he’d wanted to say for the past five years building up inside of his throat. They taunted him, and he knew that even opening his mouth would let them out. But Louis looked so desperate to hear him speak. And, Harry supposed, he needed to hear it. Because everything - this state Harry was in - was his fault.
“Why did you go?!” he shouted. “Why did you leave me here? Me, Lou, me. You could have- why didn’t you-“
“Harry, you know I-” Louis began, but Harry cut him off.
“No, you don’t get to speak. You get to let me finish,” He hissed, and Louis fell quiet. “Five years Louis. Five years. You didn’t think I’d miss you? You didn’t consider that maybe I’d want a goodbye? That I’d want to talk to you one last time?”
Louis took two steps forward - close enough to lay a hand on the troubled young man’s shoulder - and said calmly, “Haz… you know that’s not fair”
This time Harry didn’t protest to the use of the old affectionate nickname Louis used to use to calm him down.
“You know it’s not fair,” he repeated himself. “You know I would of if I’d known.”
Harry shivered, and then found himself nodding. Louis moved closer, wrapping an arm around Harry’s shoulder. Harry breathed in the familiar scent of his best friend as a silent tear rolled down his cheek.
“I missed you so much… Lou,” he whispered.
“I know,” Louis replied, as Harry moved suddenly, wrapping his arms around his friend’s waist. As Louis returned the gesture, he realized the full extent of how much he’d missed those hugs. As they pulled away from the embrace, Louis pointed at the shattered bottle on the floor.
“Harry, you’ve got to stop this,” He spoke sternly, yet calmly, and Harry sighed.
“I know… you just don’t know what it was like… it helped, for a while,” He mumbled, ashamed.
“But I bet you just feel numb now eh?” Louis questioned, and Harry nodded.
“It was no fun drinking without you anyway.”
“I’ll bet it wasn’t.”
Both boys chuckled, and he found himself smiling for the first time in five years. Louis smiled back. The sun was rising faster now, and it was as if the whole world had brightened simply because of Louis’ return. Or Harry’s world, at least.
“So what am I supposed to do now?” He asked.
“You throw out the paper clippings in your room, and you smile about it. And you can clean my room out too, if you want. Or you can keep my things. I don’t mind. Just open up the house again, Harry, it’s too lonely all shut up like this. You sing again. You’re letting that voice go to waste like this Harry and you know I always thought yours was the best. And let Liam check on you, you know he just wants you to be okay. The other boys, Harry, they’ve needed you while I’ve been gone.” Louis said.
“Clean out your room… are you going again?” Harry asked, confused by Louis answer, desperately wishing the him to say he’d stay.
“You know I have to,” He replied, and Harry felt his heart sink to the very bottom of his chest. “Harry, I’m asking you to live. I’m asking you to pull yourself together for the sake of the lads.”
Harry let out a frustrated kind of a growl. “Why should I? Why do you get to ask me to do anything? You left…”
Louis pulled him back into a casual embrace like they used to when Harry was still sixteen and things upset him, and whispered into his ear. “Do it for me, Harry. I can’t bear to think of you sitting here drinking yourself to death. They need you. And I need you to do this for me.”
“But you’re going again…” Harry mumbled in reply.
“Yes. And you need to be stronger than this. I know you are.” He took a step backwards, letting his hands fall, and Harry took a deep breath.
“Don’t go,” Harry said.
Louis reached out and playfully ruffled Harry’s curly hair. Harry closed his eyes and prayed to anyone listening that Louis would say he’d stay. That he could be allowed to stay. Just this once. Just for Harry.
“You know I love you, Harry.” He said, voice wavering for the first time since he’d arrived. “You know I do. You always knew. And I’ve missed you, quite terribly. But you know I can’t stay.”
Harry nodded. He understood, but couldn’t bring himself to respond.
“I didn’t get to say goodbye last time,” Louis continued, staring at the floor. “Now that I’ve got the chance I don’t even know how to say it.”
Harry was surprised by the revelation - Lou had never been one to admit his weaknesses, always covering with jokes and smiles. But not this time. This time was serious. He watched on as Louis kicked at the ground in frustration, and swallowed hard. Finally the older boy lifted his head and met his gaze.
“Just… have a good life for me, Harry. Please. If you can do one thing for me, it’s this. Please, Harry. For me, while I’m gone. Get up and start moving on. And don’t hold back. Promise me.” He stammered.
“I promise,” Harry said.
Louis held his gaze a moment more, smiling meekly before giving a small nod which Harry returned. And with that, he slipped out of the door, and closed it behind him.
And he was gone, again, quickly as he’d come.
-
Two hours later, Harry sat in the same chair he had been before Louis’ arrival. This time, the television was on for the first time in months, and eggs were frying on the stove. The news reporter of the morning show was doing the wrap up, and Harry wandered around the room, trying to process the earlier encounter. None of it made sense, and he still hadn’t come up with a logical reason for Louis to be able to appear there. It should have been completely impossible. He couldn’t have been there. As if the television had been following Harry’s train of thought, the reporter suddenly changed topic.
“And finally this morning, today marks the five year anniversary of the death of popular boy-band star, Louis Tomlinson, who was killed in a horrific three car pileup on the A1. Another young couple, thirty four year old Anna Stewart and thirty five year old fiancé Greg Thompson were also killed in the accident. The driver of the third car escaped with minor injuries. We wish the families involved, and also the members of Louis’ band One Direction the best and our thoughts here in the newsroom go out to you all in this troubling time.”
Harry sighed, and tried to think of a way to honour his lost friend. A phrase floated through his mind.
‘I’m asking you to live…have a good life, for me.’
His lips broke into a small smile, and it was decided. He would live. He would live because his best friend asked him to, and through him, Louis’ memory would live on.
notes/warnings: major character death, alcohol abuse
*****
Dawn. From the chair in which he sat clutching a near empty bottle of liquor a young man watched the sun rising through the open window. The house was all but quiet, except for the sound of the occasional car starting somewhere in the street, or bird singing its morning tune. Harry sighed. It never used to be this quiet in the shared space. Through his drunken stupor he could only just manage to recall the images of a happier time to the forefront of his memory. At least the birds were still happy enough to sing.
He’d barely so much as spoken to anyone outside of his immediate family and closest friends for five years. Twenty-three years of age and he’d missed out on so much, all by his own choice.
No. Not his choice. Not his fault. He couldn’t help the state he was in.
He drew in a sharp breath as he examined the memories of stage performances, interviews, road trips… The best of friends, they were. And of course, Harry knew they’d had the best of fun. He could never live up to that on his own. At twenty three, he’d come to the understanding that life would never again come even close to the way it was at seventeen. And he’d begun to wonder daily whether he’d ever learn to smile again. He sighed; the alcohol was beginning to wear off, and sleep deprivation beginning to take over.
A small noise at the front door caught his attention. A key, turning in the lock. He probably should have been worried, but he dismissed it. He had not cared about a single thing in five years. Why start now? He turned away, half expecting it to be Liam checking up on him again, and half expecting himself to be hearing things - the was probably nobody at the door in the first place.
The door creaked open, and Harry stood from his chair.
“I’m a big boy, Liam, I can look after myself,” He said, turning to face the figure that had materialised in the doorway.
He blinked, once, twice - hard. The bottle slipped from his fingers, and shattered as it collided with the tiled floor.
“Not-Liam-,” Harry choked out in surprise.
“No,” spoke Louis, softly. “I’m not.”
-
The two boys stared at each other for at least five minutes, neither willing to be the one to break the silence. Harry didn’t even know if he could speak - he was completely overwhelmed by his own thoughts. It couldn’t be. He couldn’t be back. Nothing at all for five years, and he just showed up on the doorstep and walked in like he never left. And there he was, the sun shining through the window, illuminating his face.
Louis took a deep breath. “Haz… I’m so sorry,”
“Don’t call me that,” Harry replied, voice breaking. “Don’t call me that. It’s Harry… to you.”
Louis looked hurt, yet understanding, and began again. “Okay. Harry.”
There was a second long silence. Harry felt almost ashamed of himself, snapping at Louis like that, but Louis brushed it off, breaking their pause once more. “Please…say something. Anything.”
Harry could feel all of the arguments and words and sentences he’d wanted to say for the past five years building up inside of his throat. They taunted him, and he knew that even opening his mouth would let them out. But Louis looked so desperate to hear him speak. And, Harry supposed, he needed to hear it. Because everything - this state Harry was in - was his fault.
“Why did you go?!” he shouted. “Why did you leave me here? Me, Lou, me. You could have- why didn’t you-“
“Harry, you know I-” Louis began, but Harry cut him off.
“No, you don’t get to speak. You get to let me finish,” He hissed, and Louis fell quiet. “Five years Louis. Five years. You didn’t think I’d miss you? You didn’t consider that maybe I’d want a goodbye? That I’d want to talk to you one last time?”
Louis took two steps forward - close enough to lay a hand on the troubled young man’s shoulder - and said calmly, “Haz… you know that’s not fair”
This time Harry didn’t protest to the use of the old affectionate nickname Louis used to use to calm him down.
“You know it’s not fair,” he repeated himself. “You know I would of if I’d known.”
Harry shivered, and then found himself nodding. Louis moved closer, wrapping an arm around Harry’s shoulder. Harry breathed in the familiar scent of his best friend as a silent tear rolled down his cheek.
“I missed you so much… Lou,” he whispered.
“I know,” Louis replied, as Harry moved suddenly, wrapping his arms around his friend’s waist. As Louis returned the gesture, he realized the full extent of how much he’d missed those hugs. As they pulled away from the embrace, Louis pointed at the shattered bottle on the floor.
“Harry, you’ve got to stop this,” He spoke sternly, yet calmly, and Harry sighed.
“I know… you just don’t know what it was like… it helped, for a while,” He mumbled, ashamed.
“But I bet you just feel numb now eh?” Louis questioned, and Harry nodded.
“It was no fun drinking without you anyway.”
“I’ll bet it wasn’t.”
Both boys chuckled, and he found himself smiling for the first time in five years. Louis smiled back. The sun was rising faster now, and it was as if the whole world had brightened simply because of Louis’ return. Or Harry’s world, at least.
“So what am I supposed to do now?” He asked.
“You throw out the paper clippings in your room, and you smile about it. And you can clean my room out too, if you want. Or you can keep my things. I don’t mind. Just open up the house again, Harry, it’s too lonely all shut up like this. You sing again. You’re letting that voice go to waste like this Harry and you know I always thought yours was the best. And let Liam check on you, you know he just wants you to be okay. The other boys, Harry, they’ve needed you while I’ve been gone.” Louis said.
“Clean out your room… are you going again?” Harry asked, confused by Louis answer, desperately wishing the him to say he’d stay.
“You know I have to,” He replied, and Harry felt his heart sink to the very bottom of his chest. “Harry, I’m asking you to live. I’m asking you to pull yourself together for the sake of the lads.”
Harry let out a frustrated kind of a growl. “Why should I? Why do you get to ask me to do anything? You left…”
Louis pulled him back into a casual embrace like they used to when Harry was still sixteen and things upset him, and whispered into his ear. “Do it for me, Harry. I can’t bear to think of you sitting here drinking yourself to death. They need you. And I need you to do this for me.”
“But you’re going again…” Harry mumbled in reply.
“Yes. And you need to be stronger than this. I know you are.” He took a step backwards, letting his hands fall, and Harry took a deep breath.
“Don’t go,” Harry said.
Louis reached out and playfully ruffled Harry’s curly hair. Harry closed his eyes and prayed to anyone listening that Louis would say he’d stay. That he could be allowed to stay. Just this once. Just for Harry.
“You know I love you, Harry.” He said, voice wavering for the first time since he’d arrived. “You know I do. You always knew. And I’ve missed you, quite terribly. But you know I can’t stay.”
Harry nodded. He understood, but couldn’t bring himself to respond.
“I didn’t get to say goodbye last time,” Louis continued, staring at the floor. “Now that I’ve got the chance I don’t even know how to say it.”
Harry was surprised by the revelation - Lou had never been one to admit his weaknesses, always covering with jokes and smiles. But not this time. This time was serious. He watched on as Louis kicked at the ground in frustration, and swallowed hard. Finally the older boy lifted his head and met his gaze.
“Just… have a good life for me, Harry. Please. If you can do one thing for me, it’s this. Please, Harry. For me, while I’m gone. Get up and start moving on. And don’t hold back. Promise me.” He stammered.
“I promise,” Harry said.
Louis held his gaze a moment more, smiling meekly before giving a small nod which Harry returned. And with that, he slipped out of the door, and closed it behind him.
And he was gone, again, quickly as he’d come.
-
Two hours later, Harry sat in the same chair he had been before Louis’ arrival. This time, the television was on for the first time in months, and eggs were frying on the stove. The news reporter of the morning show was doing the wrap up, and Harry wandered around the room, trying to process the earlier encounter. None of it made sense, and he still hadn’t come up with a logical reason for Louis to be able to appear there. It should have been completely impossible. He couldn’t have been there. As if the television had been following Harry’s train of thought, the reporter suddenly changed topic.
“And finally this morning, today marks the five year anniversary of the death of popular boy-band star, Louis Tomlinson, who was killed in a horrific three car pileup on the A1. Another young couple, thirty four year old Anna Stewart and thirty five year old fiancé Greg Thompson were also killed in the accident. The driver of the third car escaped with minor injuries. We wish the families involved, and also the members of Louis’ band One Direction the best and our thoughts here in the newsroom go out to you all in this troubling time.”
Harry sighed, and tried to think of a way to honour his lost friend. A phrase floated through his mind.
‘I’m asking you to live…have a good life, for me.’
His lips broke into a small smile, and it was decided. He would live. He would live because his best friend asked him to, and through him, Louis’ memory would live on.