To You || l.s.

07.

    Louis isn’t there whenever Harry wakes up.

 

    He cries.

 

    He calls for him, to the Heavens and skies above and prays for him to just come back.

 

    When 10 am becomes midnight and he is still alone, he cries again.

 

    Zayn doesn't answer the phone when he tries ringing him, so he curls up on the couch. Laptop perched on his lap and a glass of wine on the coffee table.

 

    He searches "Manhattan deaths 2009" into Google.

 

    He clicks on the first link and hopes it has useful information.

 

    In the database of the website, he types in "Louis" and then clicks the year of 2009 as year of death.

 

    Fifteen results and fifteen pictures pop up, but none of them are the one that he knows.

 

    "I didn't die in Manhattan."

 

    Harry's heart skips a beat. He puts down his laptop and turns to the side, seeing Louis sitting on the arm of the couch with his legs crossed.

 

    "Why did you leave me?"

 

    "Sometimes I can't control when I come and go. All apart of the force of nature and my being a ghost."

 

    "I thought you left for good," Harry whispers.

 

    "I'll always come back for you, one way or another."

 

    “Can I kiss you?”

 

    “I’m not sure if you’re able to touch me properly.”

 

    “There’s no harm in trying.”

 

    And Louis can’t argue with that.

 

    Then they’re kissing, and Harry is trembling.

 

   “Please, please,” Harry mumbles against his lips, and Louis’ fingers find the hem of his jeans.

 

    It doesn’t happen quickly. It’s slow, and passionate, affectionate, amorous. Once it does happen, though, Harry starts to cry and Louis kisses away his tears and gathers him up in his arms as he rocks into him.

 

    “I love you,” whispers Harry into the soft fringe as his nails drag deliberately slow down Louis’ bare back, the red marks that should stay there for days are gone in seconds, skin still pale. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

 

    “I know you do, I know. I love you, Harry.”

    And they’re kissing again, and Harry comes with Louis’ name on his lips, and he tries not to cry for the 4th time that night as he’s wrapped up in warm blankets and cold arms.