Caught [l.s] (boyxboy)

IM Grieving

hiii guys. 

i hope everyone had an okay weekend. i missed you guys, but i was busy and i'd really like to get back to more frequent updates.. i feel weird not writing every night. i'm not sure how i like it. i was thinking of doing update goals (like, 200 comments for the next chapter, yada yada yada) but then i was like nah, because that sort of forces you to respond and i don't want you to comment or vote unless you think i've earned it. i can see the shittier chapters getting less of a response versus the ones that are more exciting, humorous, or whatever. so. 

oh, and i'm sorry i killed eve off. had to be done, i'm afraid. 

i started reading Will Grayson, will grayson (fucking hilarious so far) and please don't spoil everything for me but i really really really want to know - does will grayson ever develop feelings for Tiny?? because I just found about Isaac being Maura and ugh, I don't know, I just think it'd be cuTE

QOTC: NIALL IS SHORTER THAN LOUIS, YES? 

_______

"I'm so sorry, Lou." Somehow, Harry's chest doesn't feel nearly as strong as it usually does. 

Louis' face is so numb from tears that he may be hallucinating the entire situation in general, to be completely honest. Their flat is cold, too cold, too quiet; it's like a jail cell. Louis feels trapped in his own misery. 

Maybe it's not as bad as losing all of his limbs or losing his mother would and might be, but there isn't a scale to measure one's pain. And if there is, Louis is officially calling bullshit on said scale - pain is not measurable. It varies. It's like a virus, changing too often for people to put a stop to and ultimately biting Louis in the ass everytime things are starting to seem just a little bit sunnier than usual. 

"So am I." He still can't believe that this is real life. Things like this only happen in movies. Last time he checked ,his life wasn't a movie. Maybe it is, actually, Louis wouldn't know. Maybe there are hidden cameras in his cabinets and under his sinks. Maybe he's stuck living in someone's television screen and every month he wakes up and relives the same story over and over again, his brain filled with the same thoughts, feelings, and worries every day. Like a robot. Like a zombie. 

These are ridiculous thoughts to be having. Louis has come to that conclusion. But he reckons that he's allowed to have these ridiculous thoughts given the circumstances. 

He hadn't gone to her funeral. He doesn't know if that makes him strong or weak, but he couldn't. He couldn't stand there in a room of people he had never seen before dressed in colors of sadness while people blew their snotty noses and he couldn't see a corpse of his friend lying there in front of him, definitely not. He didn't want to see her hands folded over a pretty dress and her scars from the accident cover with layers upon layers of makeup that would surely fade and decompose along with the rest of her. No matter how graphic that image may have been, Louis knew it was the truth. And that's what burned him like a strike from a whip. Or a hot coal against the surface of his skin. Except the pain was internal and nothing like that, yet it was the only way Louis could think to describe it; another reason pain can not be measured.

"Why are you sorry?" Harry runs a hand up and down his back, fingertips against the softness of Louis' shirt and skin and if he presses just a little bit right here, he swears he can feel his pulse. "It's not your fault. It's not anyone's fault."

Louis sniffles in response, catches a whiff of Harry's cologne: it smells too comforting. Louis isn't sure he wants to be comforted. He just wants to rewind time, actually, he wants it so badly that he can feel a physical pain in his gut that twists and jabs at him every time he takes a breath. Because Eve will never feel oxygen filling up her lungs again, and Eve will never get to exhale a laugh or even just a breath, and that's what hurts the most.  So instead, he says: "I want to find that guy."

"What guy?"

"That guy in the car with her. I'm 'onna find that fucker, and I'm 'onna get him piss drunk and crash him into a tree. See how he likes it." 

"Louis, you don't mean that." Except, Louis does. He wants whoever's responsible for the situation to fall in the nearest deep hole and die. In a death as fiery and painful as the torture that is losing someone that you care deeply about. Louis isn't sure why he feels so strongly about the death of a friend, because he's lost family before and he's sure he's never been this upset. He supposes it's probably due to the fact that Eve had never gotten a life better than working as a secretary and cleaning up after everyone else. And that wasn't fair to Louis. Karma has to be made up if it could take someone as loving and as completely undeserving as Eve and let her shrivel and die like a plant that's been in the sun for too long. She hadn't even gotten a chance.

Everyone is supposed to get a chance.

"I want her back," Louis sums everything he feels into four words as he hiccups into Harry's shirt. "I wanna say goodbye, at least. I wanna let go. I want you to kiss me, please, just so I can think about something else-"

Harry pushes him back by the shoulders and slots his lips against Louis' own trembling ones gently, so gently that Louis isn't sure if they're even touching. Harry tastes like chocolate and strawberry chapstick (which Louis definitely knows for sure Harry secretly has, he's seen it in Harry's endless amounts of junk stuffed in drawers in their bathroom) and it's so familiar and sweet that Louis wraps his arms tightly around Harry's neck to just hold him there and tie him to earth, keep him from floating far into the clouds and becoming one with the sky just because he feels so light and - really, he just loves Harry. And he tells Harry as much.

"I love you, too," Harry blinks up at him. "You do know that, don't you? You lose someone you love, but you gain someone right back."

"Things have a funny way of going to shit just when I least expect it," Louis mutters, tracing the shape of Harry's jaw with his fingers. Harry sighs into his touch, and it's all a bit too calm for Louis to handle. He's become accustom to the chaos of the past few days and now that it's just Louis and Harry alone in their home, he isn't sure what to do with himself. 

"Will you be my boyfriend?" Harry asks suddenly. Louis blinks and steadies himself against Harry. 

"What?"

"I said, will you be-"

"Yeah yeah, I heard you," Louis pauses. "But, I- I. Well."

Harry's cheeks turn bright red. "You don't, erm, have to. I just - well, I love you and I kind of just figured that we could make it official since-"

"Harry." Louis sighs. "You're an idiot. But, I love you. And I guess if I love you and you're an idiot, that makes you my idiot." 

Harry bites his lip to fight off a cheesy smile that Louis knows is there, probably to avoid being called an idiot again. "So, is that a yes?"

"It's a definite yes."

"Official? All mine? My Louis, no one else's?" Harry mutters into the skin of Louis' neck as he kisses it softly. Louis ignores the hurt in his heart and the throbbing in his head just for a minute, because he had asked Harry to make him think about something else for a moment, even just a second.

"Yeah, Haz. Official. All yours. 'm yours, no one else's."

OH

MORE SMUT NEXT CHAPTER SoO

it's top louis this time (i'm probably going to trick tori into writing it all for me again)

so if you want to read it, it's gonna be private, follow me today. right now. go. run. faster. I'll wait.