Reflection || Larry Stylinson

Chapter 1 - Photograph

"Photography, because it stops the flow of life, is always flirting with death."

- John Berger

It had been almost a full year since Louis had passed with their child and Harry had painfully felt every single second of it.

Constantly, all Harry did was drink and think. He thought about how it could've been prevented.

He'd drink until he didn't feel it, because what he did feel was an unbearable aching pain in his soul. The love of his life had been taken from him. His future family had been taken from him. Any hope for the future was gone.

Harry always wished he would've left work early and had been with him when they'd been going to the appointment rather than just meeting each other there.

He hated himself because any slight difference could have made it so Louis was alive right now. There was no reason for him to keep trying or to have any dreams or ambitions. If he did, he would only feel guilty. He already felt guilty enough that he was the one who was alive. Why him? Why not Louis? Why not their unborn baby?

On the topic of guilt, Harry always felt guilty. He felt like he should've spent more time with Louis. The nights he stayed late at work were always in the back of his mind. He should've just come home sooner and spent time with him. There were times when Louis hadn't felt great because he'd had morning sickness and would lay in bed for a few extra hours in the morning and Harry just wished he would've laid with him. Times where he would try to talk to Harry that he would be too busy to actually listen and would get frustrated with him.

He didn't work anymore, just because he couldn't bring himself to get up and do anything. He wouldn't be able to keep his thoughts trained on just work. So, he hadn't worked in the entire time. However, he still had a job technically. He was still employed at his law firm, though his personal time had run out after two months. His work was trying to be understanding and work things out with him, but each day pushed them further to the choice to let Harry go.

This Tuesday started like everyday for Harry, waking up around one in the afternoon, only this time he wasn't awaking from a nightmare but the sound of his buzzing phone falling off of his nightstand and crashing onto the laminated flooring.

He squinted, the rays of warm sun shining right onto his pale face through his cracked curtains. He was sprawled across the queen sized bed in only boxers, which was all he wore nowadays, with his head down at the foot of the bed. He was instantly met with a throbbing headache. Another norm for him due to the endless hangovers.

Harry had just enough energy to roll over onto his stomach, his head and arm now over the edge of the mattress to peer down at his phone. Of course. It was his work. Who else would it be? He sighed and just continued staring, waiting for the obnoxious vibrating to cease. Right as it ended, he noticed he had a total of five missed calls and three voicemails. Great.

The widower decided that though it may not be worth it, he might as well check why they wouldn't leave him alone today. He begrudgingly leaned a little further over the edge, but still couldn't reach his phone. Just a little more, his hand reaching out ready to grasp the phone... But apparently that was a little too far.

He fell flat on his face on the ground, he yelped, the phone now digging into his ribs. Another sigh escaped from his lips, as he rolled onto his back. He felt defeated. Pathetic. He reached over for the phone; each of the phone calls were from his work and he didn't understand why they would be calling so persistently this late in the day.

Every single voicemail was telling Harry he needed to return their calls. "Well that wasn't worth being woken up for . . ." He mumbled, finally willing himself to climb up off the floor. He pushed his greasy hair back out of his face. "I need a drink." He stated to himself, walking to leave the room, but stopping in his tracks. He caught his reflection in the bedroom mirror, which he had last remembered being covered by a blanket . . . Odd. He hated his appearance. He was once toned and tanned, but now his body was pale and he'd lost an incredible amount of weight.