Tattoos Together || Larry Stylinson

Chapter 34

It was the night before the end. The end of this whole nightmare that wasn't a nightmare. At least not entirely.

-

Harry and I had spent the last few days in the idyllic little mountain cabin that Mark had rented us for the last days. I knew that this would have been roughly Harry's vision of our future together if we had only had the privilege of experiencing it. I felt bad for it. I knew Harry didn't blame me. In fact, he seemed happy. About the fact that we were able to experience this together at all. Though not for long. Just for our own little finite eternity.

Our mornings were all very comfortable. Harry had always been up before me. He kindled the fire in the small tiled stove in the living room. It was cold outside. It was late November, but deep inside ourselves, it was warm and toasty. Peaceful. When it got warm in the apartment, Harry would prepare breakfast. There were great things. From porridge to pancakes to scrambled eggs and bacon, he gave his very best. Then he prepared the coffee table, laid out blankets and pillows and came back into the room to kiss me awake. On two mornings he had carried me downstairs, snuggled up in my blanket. On the other days I was fit enough. Actually, my physical condition was getting a little worse every day and I tried not to show it to Harry. The medication exhausted me and I had no appetite. I even burst into tears one morning because I couldn't eat more than half a pancake. It had also been one of the mornings Harry had had to carry me down the stairs. I felt so vulnerable.

Usually, my condition got a little better around noon and we were even able to go for short walks and go to the cinema. I once had to have a session with a psychologist who was to brief me on my euthanasia and assess the finality of my decision and my sanity. I remember crying bitterly when Harry kissed my forehead before the momentary goodbye. He wasn't allowed to be present.

I felt myself becoming less and less myself. I didn't want that anymore, I wanted to die.

-

"Babes." Harrywhispered while rubbing my back with his warm hand. "You stillhave to open the letter."

I kept quiet. The only sound in the room was the crackling of the fire in the oven.

"I don't want to read it Harry." I said at some point.

"I don't want to read her endless apologies. I don't want to be mad at her anymore. She meant a lot to me, but now that I don't even have 24 hours left, I don't want to listen to her apologies and explanations. I can't really forgive her. Probably never. But I want and I want her to know that. Hazzie. Please read the letter. When I'm gone. Invite her to my funeral. Or don't. You know what's good for me. You know me. I just wanna go in peace." I sobbed.

"It's okay love, it's fine." He pressed me against his chest. He held me like his life depended on it.

-

Mark held my hand and eyed me one last time. He looked hesitant and I just gave him an affirmative grin. I saw that he had doubts about his decision to make all of this possible for me.

"Are you sure?" He asked.

"A hundred percent." I nodded.

He swallowed hard and wrapped me in his strong paternal arms. "I will miss you so much my little one. Say hello to your mother, will you? tell her that I still love her. So much."

I found it strange how everyone made wishes for my mother along the way, when everything that was to come was so uncertain.

"I will." Then he left the room, leaving only Harry and I.

Harry came over to my bed and grabbed my hand that my stepfather had been holding. "How do you feel?" He asked with a cracked voice.

"A little bit nervous." I admitted. It was a lie I was damn scared.

"How about you, my love?"

He shrugged and laid his head on the blanket covering my stomach. "How does it feel when you're about to lose the most important part of yourself?"

"You won't lose me, baby. I'll always be there. I promise."

The door opened and a young woman walked in. She carried a small tray with her. It started.

She smiled kindly and approached me. I had already met her two days ago. Her name was Milena. "Louis. If you were ready, we could start. But I can also come back in an hour." She told me. Thick Swiss accent in her voice.

I looked at Harry. I knew he wasn't ready. I knew he wouldn't be ready even in an hour. "It's okay. We can." I said with a firm voice. She disinfected the crook of my arm and Harry distracted me. As he had done so many times before, only this time it wouldn't have been necessary. I never expected to ever yearn for a needle in my skin that would put anything other than ink in my body. But I was tired, I didn't want to wait any longer. Milena was quick at what she did. The IV was in my skin, the infusion bag was released. She smiled at us encouragingly. "Louis, I wish you all the best. Don't worry, it'll all be over in fifteen minutes and you'll be sleeping peacefully."

I looked at Harry. He was completely pale and stared at the tube that brought the medication into my vein. "Hazzie." I whispered. "Thank you so much."

He did not say anything. His chin trembled and his fingers traced the contours of my face as if he were trying to memorize it forever.

I gently pulled him a little closer to me. Everything I was doing already felt a little strange, like a very vivid dream. His lips met mine, probably one last time. The salty taste of my tears mingled with our kiss, but Harry was still violently holding back his tears

"Can you smile for me one last time?" I asked softly, because my strength didn't allow more than a whisper

the smile that followed didn't reach his eyes, but it was so beautiful, so familiar, so satisfying, telling me that everything was going to be fine. I couldn't help but smile back at him. My eyelids were slowly getting heavy. I gave in and the silhouette of the beautiful, curly-haired boy I loved so much blurred until it finally disappeared completely.

"Loubear, Lou!" I heard Harry's desperate cries from what seemed a distance. He cried. He broke his promise. "Louis. I love you so fucking much." He sobbed and I tried to gather all my strength to answer him. I wasn't sure if it worked. I no longer felt myself. I sincerely hope so, though, because Harry deserved one last, I love you.

What I felt now was a gentle tingling on my lips and a delicate salty taste, which, however, faded away into nothing, as did everything