twenty three

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He leaves tomorrow.

It rips the heart out of Louis knowing that their shared time together is now coming to an end. It's like that one book you couldn't put down and it's finally closing chapter and it pains you knowing you'll close it up and place it back on the shelf where it'll grow dust until you're reminded of it again.

The past two days have been amazing, from the sex they started and continue to endorse, to the gentle touches and sweet words they pass to each other. They've had date nights consisting of curling up on the sofa with Clifford laying at their feet, watching old rom coms that they secretly love despite their cheesiness and kissing each other on the trampoline under the stars.

They barely sleep in order to have as much time together as possible in the waking hour.

Louis wants to cry, wants to claw at anything in his wake and scream at the world that it's unfair that they're ripping Harry away from him to ship him half way across the world for his next leg of tour.

He's currently pacing in the kitchen, waiting for the kettle to boil. Harry is next door packing for his early leave tomorrow morning.

Louis wants to smother Harry in as many cuddles and kisses as possible, but he doesn't know if the pain will be bearable more if he keeps distant now, or if he continues to give him as much attention as possible until the last second.

He's slipping through Louis' fingers far too soon and it hurts. Hurts deep down to the core. He hasn't hurt this much since the day Owen died, but it's a different type of hurt. It's the one where the heart swells for the love and the endearment, wanting to wrap up in the small touches and little moments, but then coils and rips and burns and shreds when it's all gone away. Where whenever you're reminded of the sweet moments together, it brings the stomach to roll and an anchor to press on your chest, only ever leaving until you're back in their arms again.

He feels his lip quiver and his heart twist. He doesn't know what to do. He hasn't felt so happy in the last three years. He hasn't felt like he's had a home until Harry rolled up and gave him a purpose and a home within himself.

He places a hand on his chest, feeling maybe a panic attack coming along.

He hasn't loved someone like this before, not even Benny.

That causes his breath to hitch.

He's in love.

He's in love with Harry Styles.

He can feel the hyperventilation happening and sees the way his vision blurs at the corners. He stumbles through the house and finds himself wandering down the hallways to where Peter's lounge is.

He slumps against the doorway, looking up to see Peter looking over toward him with a smile from behind his book.

The smile soon vanishes when he sees the state Louis is in. He abandons his book, shifting in his seat to be more attentive.

"What's the matter, son?" Peter says, concerned.

Louis isn't sure. He isn't sure if he should tell the truth to Peter or not.

Maybe this is a chance to prove to Harry how much he loves him and how much he means to him by allowing to be completely his, no strings attached. No one to stand in their way.

But that slight fear of his dad rejecting him nestles into his bones and it causes a sob to rip through him.

"Love, what is the matter?" Peter asks sharply, standing up and pulling Louis into his arms.

"Dad," Louis cries, rubbing his nose into Peter's shoulder where the scent of his spicy cologne stains his shirt. "I-I'm gonna miss him so much."

Peter coos, sitting them both on the sofa and keeping Louis close, stroking his hair back like he used to when Louis was sick as a kid, keeping him calm.

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