fic:hero (louis/harry/zayn)
harry keeps his hair in his eyes as he says it. he doesn't look at any of them. "i enlisted."
no one really says anything after that. liam looks up from his book, zayn and niall stop roughhousing, and louis stares intently at harry, but no one says anything. a few long moments of silence pass until finally, louis speaks.
"come again?" he raises an eyebrow.
"i enlisted," harry repeats.
louis stares at him for a few more moments before he gets up and leaves, walks into his room and locks the door behind him. he doesn't come out until the next morning, but everyone hears him and harry fighting around three in the morning. the quiet hiss of people yelling at each other in hushed voices. louis' not there when they wake up.
~
louis is asleep. that's the only explanation. everything is moving in slow motion--liam shaking his head, niall sobbing, zayn fighting back tears. and louis is looking around at all of them, trying to understand what exactly is going on. he looks down to the letter in his hands, the words shaking and sipping. he doesn't realize that his hands are shaking until liam reaches over to steady them. he looks down at the words on the page and see harry's name. the men in uniform repeat their words from before, "we're so sorry."
louis doesn't get it. suddenly everything snaps into place, everything's moving too fast. the men are leaving and louis has a letter in his hand. he doesn't get it. why are they sorry? why did they come here? why? louis had walked in halfway through their conversation with zayn and niall. he didn't hear it. zayn told him to go to the next room. louis didn't listen and now he has this letter and apologies that mean nothing and he doesn't get it.
then it hits him. clarity. clarity in the middle of the jumbled thoughts running through his head. two words ring out in his mind. two. the only two that will ever matter anymore. harry's dead.
and that's the end. it's all over. louis' life is a show and this is the final act. his bubble has been popped. he's falling back to earth from so far up and there's no one there to catch him. there's nothing. his entire being is cracking from the inside out and the first thing to shatter is his heart.
louis doesn't say anything. he has nothing to say anymore. he shuts the door and walks back to his room, drops the letter, curls up in bed. he ignores anyone who walks into his room, anyone who says his name, anyone who looks his way.
~
the rain falls in sheets as louis stares out the window. he can hear the drops falling onto the roof and he counts all of them. he imagines them as drops of blood, pouring out of harry's body. he counts all the ones he can until he reaches two hundred, though he's sure two million have fallen by that time.
"how long are you going to sit here and do nothing?" zayn asks. louis isn't sure when he entered the room, but he doesn't jump at the sound of his voice. nothing scares him now that his worst fears have become reality.
"until harry comes back," louis says quietly, staring at the gray, overcast sky that's starting to feel more and more like the inside of his mind, where a storm cloud has resided since harry left.
zayn just sighs and sits next to him. "harry's not coming back."
louis knows that harry isn't coming back. zayn knows that louis knows harry's not coming back. they both know that this is louis' way of saying he will never be okay. he will always sit here and stare out the window and wonder maybe if he had done a better job at taking care of harry he would still be alive. "i miss him too," zayn says quietly.
louis nods. "i know," he sighs. "i'm sure a lot of people miss him."
"i still love you."
"i still love you too."
then zayn presses his chapped lips to louis' cheek and they watch the rain together, count how many drops it takes until harry comes back.
after a while zayn gets up and gets a blanket, wrapping it around louis' shoulders. "you can't just sit like this forever. harry wouldn't want this," he says quietly.
"harry wouldn't want to be dead," louis says just as quiet, not looking away from the steady downpour. he can feel zayn flinch away from the words, but he knows it's true. harry was the liveliest person you could meet.
"harry wanted to fight for his country. he knew this was a possible outcome." zayn's voice is hard and louis doesn't say anything else. he just stares at the drops of water raining down from the gloomy clouds.
he shakes zayn's words away, harry might've known people died at war, but he most definitely didn't think that he would die at war. harry thought he was invincible. hare wouldn't ever have thought death a possibility. harry would've maybe stayed if he thought he would've died. he knew louis couldn't survive without him. louis hated harry for being so selfish, for leaving without even thinking of who he was leaving behind.
"i loved him too, you know," zayn says then. and louis has had enough.
"i hate him. i hate him for leaving. it hurts worse that he chose to leave, even after i begged him to stay. you don't know how many nights i stayed up just praying that he would come home, or call, or send a letter. but there's nothing. i got nothing from him. i got two soldiers at my door telling me they were sorry. so. i'm not saying you don't love him. i know you love him, zayn. i'm not saying you don't. i'm just saying that i hate him. i hate him. and i will never forgive him for leaving me. and i will never forgive him for not coming home. i will never forgive the fucking military for taking him away. i gave them harry, zayn. i gave them harry. and i got nothing in return. i gave them everything, i gave them all i had--" he stops so he doesn't choke on his tears. "i gave them everything, and they gave me their apologies."
zayn stays quiet, tears streaming down his face. after a few moments, he opens his mouth to say something but louis isn't done. so he continues. "and everyone keeps telling me that he died honorably--as if that'll make me feel better. i don't fucking care if he died with honor! i don't want him to be dead, fuck honor. fuck everything. i'm nothing without harry, i would give anything to bring him back. anything."
"louis.. just be happy that you still have us. liam and niall and me and you. me and you, lou. we still have each other."
"i don't want you guys! i don't care that we're all still together! i would trade all of you if it would bring harry back."
"lou, don't-"
"you don't think i would? you don't think i could? because trust me i can. i would do it in a heartbeat if i could. i would give everything to have harry back."
zayn doesn't say anything. louis isn't sure if its because he believes him or he doesn't. louis isn't sure he believes himself. he just wants to hurt him. he wants him to hurt as bad as he is. everyone knew that if they lost harry, nothing would ever be the same. no one knew that if they lost harry, they would louis louis, too.
louis finally gets tired of zayn staring at him, so he leaves. he turns and walks out of the room, out of the house. no one stops him.
it's only when he's sitting on the freshly dug up earth that he realizes his feet lead him all the way to the cemetery. louis debates talking to him. he sits by the unmarked grave, a bottle of vodka in his shaking hands. he hadn't realized he'd brought it. he debates talking to harry. if he does talk, it'll probably make him feel better. but maybe it wouldn't--because no matter what he said, harry couldn't reply. harry would never speak to him again. and maybe that's what hurt the most. he would never hear harry's raspy voice in the morning, asking if he wanted pancakes or waffles. he would never listen to harry's slow dictation of a simple 'i love you.' but maybe that's not what he cared about. he didn't need to hear it to know that harry loved him.
what hurt the most was that harry would never sing to him at one in the morning when he couldn't sleep. harry would never tell a horrible joke just when everyone needed to hear it. harry would never laugh so hard he cried at one of louis' terrible jokes. harry would never do anything again and it was like a giant hole in the middle of louis' chest.
after a while of sitting, louis pulls out the paper that was given to him when the military men came. a letter. from harry. he never got to send it.
louis unfolds the paper slowly, not really sure he wants to see what was written on it. he closes his eyes, his hands shaking as he opens the paper up. he takes a deep breath and steels himself for whatever might be on it. opening his eyes, he looks down at the paper. his eye focus first on the blood spattered across the top left corner then on the mud smeared across the bottom.
dear lou,
it feels weird to be writing to you like this--on an actual piece of paper. they said i could wait another week to call you, but that's too far away. i just wanted to let you know that i'm alright. i know you must be worrying. you always do. well you don't have to worry, okay? i'm just fine. i'll be coming home in two weeks. think you can wait that long? i'm not sure if i can.
the letter stops there, but continues a few lines down. he wrote it at different times. and louis could just picture it- harry sitting there at his camp, focused and tongue poking out as he wrote in his best print.
there's a lot of bodies. i know it's war but there's just so many bodies. so many people dead. so many people who'll never go home to their families. it's sad, isn't it?
louis has to stop because his tears are blurring his vision. and he could just picture it- harry laying there, eyes cold and unfocused. just another nameless person in the piles of bodies another soldier will pass. loud folds up the note and puts it in his pocket for another day.
he curls up in a ball on top of the freshly dug earth and pretends he's at home, curled up in bed. but there's no one to crawl into bed behind him. no one to kiss his hair and rub his sides. harry's gone, zayn's broken.. there's no one. he falls into a restless sleep, stirring when the ground got colder or a bug crawled onto his skin. he wakes up with harry's name on his lips.
~
louis crawls into his bed and sleeps, just closes his eyes and curls up into a ball and sleeps. no harry, no zayn, just a mixed cocktail of loneliness and tragedy. the hours pass slowly, marked only by the clock on his bedside table. eventually niall comes in to sleep with him and louis welcomes the company.
they both sleep curled into one another and wrapped up with niall, emotions flowing freely, is when louis has his first nightmare-less night. he wakes up to birds tittering singing their happiness for the whole world to hear. louis wishes he was a bird.
niall stirs beside him and snuggles closer, mumbling in his sleep. louis holds him close and listens to him breathe, the way he used to with harry. louis' content to just stay there. he doesn't really ever get the feeling to get up and do anything anymore so he just strokes niall's blonde locks and notes all the ways he's completely different from harry. zayn comes in after a while with breakfast on a tray. he leans over to kiss louis' forehead and sets the tray down on his lap. "morning," he says quietly, shaking niall a bit.
"morning," louis mumbles and grabs a piece of toast from the plate. he munches on it slowly, wincing at the crunch between his teeth. he had never liked loud noises.
niall wakes up slowly to the sound of people talking and the smell of food. he rubs his tired eyes and sits up as zayn ruffles his messy hair. "hey ni," he smiles, offering a piece of bacon.
niall takes it gratefully and yawns before taking a huge bite. and it's quiet then. louis too overwhelmed with grief to form words, niall too busy eating, zayn too busy mourning the loss of not one, but two lovers. it's a bit sad, but they're sad together. and that's better than nothing. it's a start. it's the first relatively normal breakfast they have together since that last good day.
zayn starts crawling into bed with him at night, wrapping his arms around louis' middle and whispering words of strength into his hair. louis would be lying if he said it didn't calm him. he settles immediately when zayn's there, nightmares of harry's death fading into memories of him and harry and zayn and warm sticky nights laying on the beach.
sometimes louis finds himself waking up with a smile on his face.
~
zayn spends his nights alone. he doesn't sleep with louis like he used to. it's not the same without harry pressed between them. it's not the same knowing harry will never sleep in that bed again. he stays on the couch. sometimes niall comes out and asks if he wants to sleep in his bed. zayn always says no. and he knows niall doesn't just ask for zayn's sake; he knows niall needs someone too. but the only person zayn's been able to talk to since the funeral is his pack of cigarettes.
and louis isn't helping. they're supposed to lean on each other for support, for help through it all; but zayn insists he doesn't need anyone and louis doesn't leave his room. zayn doesn't get it. the bed doesn't smell like harry anymore. nothing does, except his clothes hanging in the closet. but zayn doubts that louis has gone in there because he hasn't changed his clothes by himself in a month.
zayn goes in there every morning, feeds him, dresses him, makes him brush his teeth. it's a routine and zayn relies on it even more than louis does. if he didn't have someone to get up for, someone to take care of, he wouldn't get up at all. sometimes doesn't want to. sometimes he almost doesn't. but there's always a voice inside his head telling him he has to. he has to get up. he has to take care of louis.
he doesn't even know how niall's coping, hasn't seen liam in a week. he thinks maybe he went home to deal by himself. though he wishes liam were here. he needs liam. needs his strong, warm embrace; his comforting words; his gentle kisses that can make anyone feel better instantly.
zayn doesn't know how liam does it. because now that he's gone zayn has to take care of everyone and it's hard. it's really fucking hard to keep it all together when everyone else around you is falling apart.
~
"we ran out of milk," zayn says to the empty kitchen. louis hears him from the living room. gets up.
'"i'll get it," he mumbles at zayn as he pulls on a hood. zayn looks at him in surprise but louis just looks out of the window at the overcast sky, trying to decide whether or not to take an umbrella.
"it's okay, lou, i can-" zayn starts, but louis raises a hand to silence him. he grabs his wallet and bypasses his umbrella on his way out. he can feel zayn's eyes on him as he walks down the hall to the lift.
when he gets to the ground floor he has to pause for a moment as he walks out into the crowds of people on the sidewalk to remind himself what he's doing outside. to remind himself why he volunteered to get the milk. he almost goes back inside, but zayn's counting on him. so he continues to walk towards the tesco they live by.
he watches the people as he passes, most of them solemn and straight faces, as if they knew louis didn't want to see happy people. louis almost feels bad for them, the happy people. because he was happy once, too. and he knew they would just be sad later. louis didn't get it anymore. what's even the point of being happy now if you're going to be sad later?
someone greeted him as he walked into the sliding door of the store and louis scowled at him, the fluorescent lights creating harsh shadows on his features. the guy looks completely taken by surprise and louis takes some sort of pride in that.
someone asks him if he needs help and he just waves them away, he knows how to work a grocery store. wandering down the aisles finds him no milk though, and when he finally asks a sales clerk he realizes he's passed it at least five times. he sighs and gets the carton, making his way to the self-checkout line to avoid conversation with a cashier.
he stares at the screen for a while, reading the directions over and over again but for some reason the words don't make any sense. someone clears their throat behind him and he scans the milk, the beeping sound harsh on his ears. he pays with cash, leaving his change in the machine, only taking the paper notes. louis was never a change guy.
as louis walks out, milk in hand, the same guy is there greeting people as they walk in. louis smiles at him this time and obviously the guy remembers him because he looks completely confused. as he walks home, louis counts the number of kids he passes. twenty. it's only when he's about to walk into the flat that he realizes he doesn't actually want to go back.
he keeps walking. past his flat and past the end of the street. he keeps going until one street curves into another and he doesn't recognize the buildings around him. and then he sits on a bench in the middle of the sidewalk, watching the people on the other side of the street as they walk to their jobs or their homes, alone or with others--with children.
he wonders how many of them have family or friends or husbands or wives or children in the military. he wonders how many of them wen MIA or how many of them died. he wonders how many came home.
suddenly, almost as if the clouds were his own personal mood ring, it starts raining. fat, thick drops of freezing rain that started as a light drizzle turn into sheets of water dropping from the sky. the sky is so gray you can't tell one could from another. it was almost as if there weren't any clouds.
louis pulls his hood over his head, as protection from the rain. it soaks through the thin material immediately, but at least it's something. he doesn't move from the bench he'd been sitting on for the past hour. he continues to watch the people, running for shelter or pulling out their umbrellas. he counts al the ones with curly hair, all the ones that could've been harry, had harry not gone to war. sixteen in twenty minutes. sixteen people that could be dead and one that could be alive.
louis goes home after that. he gives zayn the milk and when their hands brush while they switch the carton from hand to hand louis asks zayn, "what's the point of a person being happy if they're just going to be sad later?"
zayn looks at him intently for a while and frowns at him. he puts the milk away and considers this for a moment before looking back at louis. "because they're going to be sad later," he says quietly and louis nods. takes this into consideration. he walks back into his room and takes up his spot by the window. and it's not okay.
it's not happy or pleasant or okay. it won't be for a while. but it's better. not okay, but better. and it'll keep getting better.