A soft pink petal fluttered, beating weakly against the grass. In the shadow of all that granite, the roses looked as dead as the boy lying below them. A sweet melody floated on the breeze, it wrapped around the only person who still cared. The whole world had trampled over this plot, tossing flowers and snorting into Kleenexes. A lot of make-up was soaked into the damp ground; girls had come from everywhere to pay their respects. It’d been so loud those first couple weeks. Why would they have been around if he wasn’t loved? Louis looked up. The sky reflected his eyes. Clouds stomped angrily across the horizon and oceans poured from their bellies.

It’d been months since he’d been able to talk to anyone. The only reason Eleanor hadn’t left was that she wanted to make sure he was okay. His mother had been by several times. Tours were cancelled and albums put back into circulation. Zayn practically lived at Louis’s flat and could be found silently crying over pictures of his brother. Because they’d become a family in the last three years; no one could deny that. Niall fell into fits of loud crying at the mere mention of his name, and Liam was the only one who didn’t cry in front of the fans.

Louis was on watch. He was the only one of them who, almost six months later, still couldn’t stand to come out of Harry’s room. He slept in a cocoon of Harry’s blankets and clothes. Scratch that. He didn’t sleep, he couldn’t. Instead, he lay writhing in pain whilst watching every video that Harry had ever been in. Everyone was so worried, but not surprised. Eleanor wasn’t even surprised.
Louis and Harry had been everything to each other.






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