next to you ❀ l.s.

forty nine - ghosts

"Do we have more boxes in the living room?" Louis's voice carried down the hallway.

"No. I'm using the last ones for your weird-shaped plates," Harry replied from the kitchen. They were working on packing up Louis's apartment first, planning to do Harry's afterwards. They had signed the lease on their new place just a few days before, and they were moving in at the end of the month.

"Don't talk about my plates like that!"

"Louis, they're . . . they're hexagons?" Harry guessed. "I've never seen anything like it."

Instead of coming into the main room of the apartment to have a real conversation, Louis kept shouting from the other room. "I have way too many sweatshirts," he complained. "I thought I would only need one box for all of them, but I think I was wrong."

"I can run out and grab some more," Harry offered, adding as a clarification, "Boxes, I mean. Not sweatshirts. I wanted to get a few other things from the store anyway."

"Okay," Louis agreed, his voice loud enough to ring clear even through the walls. "And don't forget, Liam and Niall are coming tomorrow. So maybe grab some snacks while you're there?"

"I'm on it."

"Hurry back," Louis called, adding as an afterthought, "But not too fast! Drive carefully, please!"

"Okay!" Harry laughed, grabbing a jacket and the car keys from the hook by the door. "I won't take more than half an hour -- or less than fifteen minutes."

"Love you!"

"Love you more."

And he slammed the door too quickly to hear Louis protest, "Impossible!"

The store was surprisingly crowded for an early Wednesday evening. The grinding squeak of the shopping cart wheels always put Harry on edge, and he winced every time he had to turn his own cart into the next aisle. He grabbed their boxes and a few foods to make for dinner over the next few days, then moved on to the snack aisle.

"Channeling my inner Niall," he mumbled under his breath, finding himself alone in the aisle. "If I were Niall, what would I want to eat?" He snorted to himself. "The entire store, maybe?"

He shook his head, unable to believe that he was impersonating his best friend in the middle of the grocery store. The lights shone down like a spotlight, and he crouched down in front of the mountain of chips, humming thoughtfully under his breath as he imagined the grateful reaction on Niall's face if Harry presented him with his favorite flavor.

Even a few days after visiting his mother, Harry was still a bit spacey -- but he was much better with every day that passed. He had told Louis from the start that sometimes, there's nothing to do; sometimes, the only antidote is time. That was turning out to be true.

But sometimes, they found that time wasn't on their side.

The familiar voice carried down the aisle like a gunshot, sharp and heavy. Harry's knees nearly gave out from under him. His heart thudded to a stop. He wanted to glance over and confirm his deepest fears, but his eyes were glued to the bag of barbecue chips clutched tightly in his hands.

"Hold on, Steve, I need to grab some pretzels before we go."

"Are we getting beer?" Steven responded, his tone open and carefree. "Or do you already have enough at home?"

He didn't have to look. He couldn't look. He couldn't show his face.

Harry started to abandon the cart, then he shook his head, shaking out his shoulders in what felt and looked more like a shudder. The cart wheels squeaked noisily as he made his way toward the checkout lines, but the sound was muffled now. He remembered to smile at the teenage cashier as she rang him up, making nearly nonsensical small talk, but he couldn't feel the smile on his face; he couldn't feel his lips moving as he spoke. Someone was going through the motions of socializing, but it surely wasn't him.