Shattered. ls

Six.

       

2016

While Louis chats away to his mother on the phone, Harry's head spins. Clenching his eyes shut and falling to the ground does little to help him, whacking his head against the bedside table with a hard smack that sends a wracking pain through him. Shattering shards of glass stab into his limbs, slither down his neck and scratch against his insides as he pulls in dry, ragged breaths.

Hands shaking and feet numb, he opens his eyes and tries not to wince at the painful splintering feeling the light causes. His head still spinning and his body on fire, it's obvious that his time is running out. Eleven fifty-eight PM will be the time he goes, but for now Louis is only a wall away and he's having some sort of fit on the floor.

The floorboards nearby creak, Louis' slender body appearing in the doorway, eyes focused on his feet as he mindlessly speaks with his mother; a simple smile gracing his pinkish lips. Harry's pain thrums once more; a sudden, tugging throb that echoes through his bones and sinks into his limbs for a lengthy pulse before diminishing completely.

Louis sees him, raising a brow at the slumped and flushed form of his soulmate.

"You alright?" He mouths, a concerned tilt to his lips. Harry nods, standing (slightly too quickly) and approaching the other man with a smile. "Mum, say hi to H,"

"Hiya, honey," Joanna's chirpy accent filters through the tinny speakers, "Haven't see any of you Styles' in far too long!"

"We were over just last month, Jay," Harry chuckles, resting a hot palm against the supple skin of Louis' hip, under the smooth fabric of his shirt. "But perhaps we can spare some time, at some point. Wouldn't want you to suffer withdrawals, or something." Joanna laughs and Louis nudges his nose at Harry's shoulder fondly.

"We've got to get going, mum, but I'll call you tomorrow. Say hi to the twins for me!"

"Me too, see you soon, Jay." Harry adds softly, guilt enveloping him once more for the empty promises he's continuing to make.

"Bye, boys." She sings, "Love you both."

"Love you" They both murmur. Ending the call with a light tap of the finger, Louis presses his face to Harry's neck comfortingly, sighing lengthily.

"I'm going to a shower quickly. We're leaving in twenty."

"Great, and don't call me quickly." Louis murmurs back endearingly, peeling his nose from the burning skin of his mate's neck.

The water is cold against his skin, like penetrating icicles the simmer against his veins and stab at his shoulders. The heat of his body is overwhelming, sending his eyes wandering into space and his head spinning every so often. It's scary, dying; Harry doesn't dare dwell on what happens after he's gone, he's almost sure he won't be back behind a glass wall once again. That was there to be broken, to give him another chance.

His feet are numb, toes flexing every now and then against the cool droplets, though he does not feel it. It's like floating, Harry decides, not feeling your feet hit the ground with every step, not registering the water splashing against them or the soft touch of Louis' toes against them when they stand close enough.

Behind his eyes is a thin film of fog that deteriorates as he blinks, only to gather once again after a few moments. It distorts what he sees and blocks out the light, a dull pain swims around in the mist, diminishing when he blinks before building up once again.

The mirror in the bathroom displays his form, slightly hunched over from shooting pains that glide down his back unexpectedly. Pale due to his impending death, and dotted with tattoos that mean oh so much to him.

"Harry!" Louis' voice filters through the door, with a few knocks in its tow. "H, I got another tattoo!"

"What?"

"Yeah," Louis says, voice relaxed, almost laughing against the thick wood of the door. With one last glance at his withering form, Harry hurries the towel over his body and drags his jeans up his legs and a top over his torso.

"What is it?" He asks, pulling open the door to his smiling soulmate, pushing a smile onto his lips at the sight of a stag on his arm. "A stag?"

"Yeah, I'm not entirely sure why. You'll probably get one too." His voice is like a snake; sending chills down Harry's spine as it climbs his arm silkily and settles around his neck, constricting him tightly with every breath.

"It's nice, Sunshine." He manages to choke out, coughing into a fist as the snake diminishes.

He knows what it is, there's no denying it. It's a tattoo to match someone else, another man who'll love Louis just like he can; after he's gone. It's not nice, but it's reassuring that Louis will have someone.

-0-

2010

"I think we're soulies,"

"Oh," Harry, with his bouncing curls and crater like dimples, looks absolutely dumbfounded. His mouth still in the shape of an O and his hand trembling slightly where it's hovering by his chest. "You-uh," He clears his throat, catches his breath, and plays the words over once again. "Do we match?"

"Yes, H, we match." Louis sounds broken, and looks just as broken. Harry hasn't noticed, hasn't thought about it.

"Your dagger to my-"

"Rose, H," Louis interrupts feeling slightly embarrassed and frustrated. "I've thought it over countless times. We match. We're mates,"

"Stand next to me." Says Harry, his eyes still clouded with something resembling shock, but also curiosity. Standing side by side, their arms look rather nautical and seem to align in an odd way.

"Compass, Ship. Dagger, Rose. Anchor, Rope."

"Louis." Harry breaths out a laugh, it's more relieved, surprised and unsure than anything, but Louis grins right back at him. "I think you might be right."

The sun sets to their echoing laughs as they camp in Harry's living room that night.