I thought I barely wrote any angst and well, I'm not the biggest fan of it either. But here we are folks, I present to you the angstiest thing I've written to date.
Just lil warnings before you read: Harry had attempted suicide (he does not die dw, attempted) in the fic and only little light is shed on it. Both of them are dealing with grief and hence the small, almost insignificant lack of communication. The homophobia part is barely there blink and you'll miss it.
Not to but to exactly sound like a sadist, I hope this makes you tear up <3 title from evermore by tay

P.S
There is some attempted metaphoric shit I write, hope it does not bore you out
Words: 3.6K

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It was snowing.

Harry stood on the balcony, the cold wind lashing against him. Goosebumps broke across his skin, and he made no attempts to keep himself warm.

Louis did it for him.

"You're going to catch a cold, Haz." He murmured, ushering him back into the cabin and handing him a cup of tea and a blanket. He sealed the windows but keeps the curtains open.

Harry replied with a small "thank you," before resting his forehead on the glass of the window. Louis sat silently, watching the younger boy sip the warm drink and stare aimlessly at the trees.

It hurt him, seeing the one who always lit up the room with his charisma and bright smile, sitting as though lifeless in the dim corner of the cabin.

(18 months ago)

Louis frowned when he heard the doorbell ring- He wasn't expecting anyone or any sort of delivery. Confused, he wiped his tears, put his glasses back on and clicked the door open.

"Harry!" Louis exclaimed. "What a surprise, oh my god, come in!" Harry smiled and flung himself onto Louis, not wasting a second in wrapping his legs around his waist. Louis stumbled a bit, carrying a very giggly Harry in. "You bloody giant."

"I missed you so much." He mumbled as Louis put him down.

"Missed you too, love," Louis said as Harry smiled and pushed Louis' glasses further up the bridge of his nose, frowning as he did so.

"Is everything okay Lou? You look like you've been crying."

"Uh, kind of, no." Harry switched the lights on, "What's wrong? Wanna talk?" He pulled out a chair.

"It's just, one of me patients." He sighed, tears brimming his eyes again. "They had so much to live for. I tried so much-" he broke down crying. Harry's face fell, and he immediately got up and pulled Louis into a hug, running a hand over his back.

"Hey, hey, hey. You know you tired right?"

Louis tried to speak but failed, sobbing on Harry's shoulder.

"Louis, Lou, Boo," Harry began, cradling Louis' jaw with his hands. "You know that you tried, right? Yeah?"

Louis nodded as Harry wiped his tears away, running the pad of his thumbs under his eyes. "Maybe it was too much for them, Lou."

"But it takes time Haz, they were actually making progress, and now I can't help but feel guilty because what if they'd survive if I had tried harder?" He croaked.

"Love, you tried, you really did. Please don't blame yourself. I don't know why they decided to leave this world, but I'm sure you tried your best."

Louis didn't reply but hugged Harry tightly instead, Harry lightly swaying them.

"Now, I've got your favourite onion pizza and white wine. The ultimate best-friends night out?" He asked hopefully, trying to cheer him up.

"I'll get the Notebook CD." Louis let out a teary chuckle, giving a very excited Harry who sang 'She's a rainbow' as he skipped to the kitchen, a fond look.

--

The clink of the ceramic against glass snapped Louis back to the present. Harry had set his cup on the table, going back to leaning his head against the window.

"What do you want for dinner, love?"

"'M not hungry." He mumbled. Louis held back a sigh as he picked their cups walked out of the room, leaving Harry alone again.

--

Louis knocked on the door, furrowing his eyebrows when he didn't get any response.

"H?"

Still no response.

He slowly creaked the door open and walked in to find Harry asleep where he sat. He set the tray on the nightstand and walked over to him.

"Harry?" He gently called, hoping Harry would wake up. Worry bubbled in him when he didn't respond. "Harry?" He repeated, a bit louder this time, tapping his cheek, feeling blood rise to his ears as he did.

"Oh my goodness." He muttered under his breath as he hooked one arm under his back and one under his legs, the blanket falling to the floor as he rushed to the bathroom.

He set a fully clothed Harry in the bathtub, running warm water. He cupped his hands, collecting some of it and gently splashing it on Harry's face, hoping it would work.

It took half the tub to fill up for Harry to blink his eyes open and let out a whimper.

"Oh, darling," Louis whispered, rushing to get him something to eat.

"Here, have this." He said, feeding him a cracker, Harry nibbling weakly. "I don't want to force you to eat." He said, moving a strand of hair from his face, tucking it behind his ear and cupping his cheek. "But you need to have something in your system love, at least for the meds." He explained softly. "Please? We can get what you want, you know that yeah?" He said, handing him a glass of water.

Harry closed his eyes and let out a long sigh as Louis scooped warm water, pouring it over his shoulders.

"Alright." He breathed out. "Sandwiches? And uh, I'll have a bath."

"Okay. Tell me if you need anything, yeah?"

Harry nodded as Louis got up and left him alone.

Fifteen minutes later he was out of the bath. He changed and walked into the hall, heading to the kitchen where Louis was preparing their dinner.

"Here you go." He said and handed him his plate.

"Thank you," Harry replied as they sat at the dining table.

They ate in silence until Harry spoke up-

"'M sorry Lou." He mumbled.

"For what?" Louis asked through a mouthful of bread.

"It's the second time in this month I've passed out."

Swallowing, Louis sighed.

"It's alright. Just don't hesitate H, you've been here for almost eight months now, and you're not a burden on me, far from that, love, remember that."

Harry merely nodded before going back to his food, both the boys finishing their meal in silence.
He insisted on clearing the table and Louis helped him, Harry heading to their room immediately after.

Louis walked into the room an hour past midnight to find Harry asleep after finishing his work. A small smile found its way to his face as he padded across the room, took the book out of his hand and set it on the dresser table. He put a blanket on his legs and switched the heater on.

Hesitantly, he pressed a feather-light kiss to his temple, a hand gently stroking his curls and brushing them out of his ear.

"Sweet dreams, my love." He murmured before heading to his own bed and drifting off to sleep.

(One year ago)

Harry was beyond excited. His new album was about to drop, he was catching up with old friends, his family were arriving the day after, everything was perfect.
"To a marvellous future!" He raised his glass of scotch, which was followed by loud cheering.

He didn't notice his phone constantly buzzing.

--

He woke up the morning after with a pounding headache and his landline number, which he thought didn't work, blaring.

He got up with a groan, scratching his head as he picked the phone.

"Harry?!"

"Hullo, Wilkins. What a surprise." He greeted his manager in a slow drawl, rummaging for his phone in the drawer.

"Oh my god, Harry!" his voice was urgent. "Where were you?! I heard-" he was cut off my Harry's emergency number ringing. Was his phone dead? Why was someone calling him on his emergency number?

"Please hold on for a minute, Ted." He said as he set the landline aside and picked his other phone up. It was Louis.

"Lou?"

"Harry!"

"Is everything okay? Ted had phoned, he was telling something-"

"Harry, I need you to listen to me, okay?" Louis tried to tell calmly, failing as he broke into a sob.

"Louis, what's wrong?" He asked, teetering on the edge of a panic attack, unlike Louis' instruction.

"Harry, Anne, Gem, your dad." He sniffled. "They got into an accident last night. N-none of t-them,"

Harry felt his knees go weak.

"Louis-"

Louis sucked in a sharp breath on the other side. Harry sunk to the floor. "They c-couldn't make it."

And suddenly, everything started spinning and the last thing he'd heard was Louis' panic-stricken voice calling out his name through the tiny speaker of his phone.

--

Harry woke with a start, jolting upon his bed, trying to catch his breath. The recurring dream. Tears streamed down his cheeks and he muffled his sobs by pressing a hand to his mouth. The last thing he wanted was for Louis to hear him cry.

He sucked in a sharp breath before looking around. On the other side of the room, Louis was fast asleep, blanket over his face. Without wasting another second, he walked out of the room.

--

It hadn't been a dream. His mind hadn't tricked him. It had been a week since Louis had phoned him informing the death of his family. He couldn't take it. He had run away, a week later, on the day of the funeral. He didn't see a point in anything;

His mum would not be there to kiss his forehead, reassuring him, protecting him or hold him when things got too much. She wasn't going to make him his favourite carrot cake every time he went home, she wasn't going to be waiting with glasses of wine and facemasks on 'Style's special wine nights', she wasn't going to be waiting with open arms in front of the familiar chipped mahogany door, he was never going to be basked in her warmth and the scent of vanilla and lavender any more.

He wouldn't be able to tease and embarrass Gemma with silly, unspoken secrets, she wasn't going to kick him in the shins while they played football in their backyard. She wasn't going to hit him up with a 'Sup baby bro' when he would ask her for some advice, nor would she be there to argue with him on whom the better Styles was. She wasn't going to be there to make that embarrassing speech at his wedding nor would he be able to cry at hers, She wouldn't be there to tease him when he cried during 'The Notebook'. He wished the nail polish he had on wouldn't chip- He'd painted them with her, and she wasn't going to be there for him to laugh and paint them with again.

His dad wasn't going to be sitting on the old sofa he refused to throw away, reading the newspaper and waiting for Harry to sneak up to and cuddle with on lazy mornings whenever he was back home. He wasn't going to be waiting with a pipe to drench Harry as he watered the plants. He wasn't going to be there to throw an arm around his shoulder and tell him how proud he was of him, how he couldn't ask for a better son. He wasn't going to be there to reprimand him every time he sent home expensive gifts. Harry would never be able to laugh at him trying to figure out social media worked.

Gone. They were all gone. Forever. They weren't coming back.

A very tired-looking Louis was by his side when he woke up, blinking at the lights of what seemed like a hospital room.

"I'm alive?" Were the first words he uttered. Louis' head snapped towards him from where he was staring, looking as though he hadn't slept in days.

"Harry." He whispered, tears pooling in his eyes. He quickly got up, pressing a red button on the remote that was on the table before rushing towards him.

"Harry." He whispered again in disbelief, blinking back more tears.

His vision went blurry, everything was black again.

--

He ran. He knew he shouldn't. He was too weak to physically run that far, but he managed a few feet away from Louis' cabin and into the thick blanket of snow.

His mum wouldn't want him running away from everything like that, his sister like him stilling his life for her, his dad wouldn't be proud of him for acting cowardly.

But what stopped him from suffocating himself, running till death could freeze him forever in her blanket was Louis.

He dropped to his knees, fingers digging indents into his palm resembling the moon that looked down on him from the sky. He couldn't feel any part of him, except his heart, he swore he could hear its beat echo in the small expanse of woods the cabin was located at.

Ice melting into water seeped into his garments, a storm of flashes seeped into his mind. Him making a toast, laughing with his friends. The next moment, Louis telling him his family was dead. His trembling, sweaty hands, writing a letter to Louis before he silted his wrists and he thought, maybe he was actually going crazy because he heard Louis' agonized voice yell his name out.

He shut his eyes tightly. It was getting harder to breathe.

--

"Yeah mum," He murmured, "mild hypothermia. He'd passed out by the time I reached." He sighed, stopping his constant pacing and sitting down. "Yeah, he should be up in two or three hours, fine by a week."

"Darling," Jay began, "You didn't answer one of my questions. How are you?"

It broke him. Broke those tough-looking walls he'd built as a medically licenced psychologist with over eight years of experience. Broke the walls he'd built to help and protect his best friend, the man he loved so dearly, for the Harry he'd grown up with, who he'd almost lost forever not once but nearly twice .

He was once again the trembling thirteen-year-old, whose wounds his mother had tended to whose heart had been beaten up for being a "fag". The little boy who was petrified because he wanted to kiss his best friend, the little boy his mother had held in her arms, cradling his head on her shoulder as you would with a baby as she comforted and reassured him about himself.

Anne, Des and Gemma had been a second family to him and Harry the best thing he could ever ask for.

And to be the one to break the news to the first and only boy he'd loved that his family, their family was no more, was devastating.

And to read a letter written with shaky letters and smudged ink about how the precious angel he'd been in love with actually loved him back, in a shirt soaked with the blood of the one who wrote the letter, waiting in the hospital where the first and only love of his life he'd never confessed his feelings for fought between life and death had left a cut deep in him that would probably heal with time but would form a scar his skin couldn't grow over and bury.

They hadn't lost him. He was alive, breathing, his heart was beating, Louis hadn't taken his eyes off the up-and-down of the lines on the monitor that showed him he hadn't lost him .

"It's been almost eight months mum," he sobbed, "eight months. I'm so torn and seeing him like that every day is killing me," he cried, sleeves of his shirt drenched.

They had sent him to rehab, but he didn't stay for more than three months. Being alone in his grief was the last thing Louis wanted for him, and so, he took him in.

But whether he'd taken him in as the closest friend he'd had, or as someone who loved him dearly and would do anything to take his pain away or as a professional who helped people battle the storms they faced, he did not know himself. One part of him stopped the other from doing something and both had been rotting in stagnant pain they didn't know how to deal with.

"Listen to him and help him like a professional, hold and understand him like a best friend, share his pain and care for him like a lover. Time takes time to heal it, love, it'll fall into place."

--

It was the first time in ten days he'd got up on his own, cold feet on warm oak. He slowly padded towards the door, creaking it open.

The fireplace was lit. The flames danced, Louis didn't seem amused. He wasn't even looking at them. His head held up by his palm, a blanket that seemed to have slipped off of him on the floor and three huge, empty, mugs on the centre table. His glasses were sliding off the bridge of his nose. Harry slowly walked over, reaching out to take them off.

Louis woke up startled. Harry bit his lip.

"'arry!" He gasped, accent thick with exhaustion. "Love why are you up? You should be resting."

"I felt a little better," he mumbled, voice low. "C'n I sit with you?" he gestured towards the sofa timidly.

"You're sure you don't feel sick, or cold, darling?" Harry shook his head. Louis bundles up some blankets next to him, so Harry could sit warm. He took a seat, threw one over his lap, left some gap between them.

Only two sounds could be heard- The crackling of the fireplace and the howling of the wind.

Louis' inside felt the little ambers of the blazing fire burning holes. Threatening to spit themselves out. Burning.

Harry felt hollow. The wind swirling in his insides, howling to be set free. To be let out. Freezing.

One needed to shed the warmth, the other needed it. The noise of steady breathing filled the silence instead.

"Louis." Harry finally whispered. "Will you- will you hold me?" he asked, hands lightly trembling. "Please?" He whimpered.

"Baby,"

He clung to him. Held on to him like he was the only thing anchoring him. Held him like if he'd let go, he'd sink and drown. Held onto him, because he was the only one he could hold on to.

Pain could be anger flooding your blood, coursing so fast through your veins it burns. It could also be insecurity shoving you in the chest, mocking you till you become your biggest enemy. It could just be plain grief rotting you or everything coming crashing down till every bone breaks.

But pain should never be countered with pain.

"You never spoke Harry. You need to. You can't let it stay still inside you, it's just going to overflow one day." Louis spoke, wiping his tears away. "You have to let go, darling, you've got to let go."

Adding pain to pain seems to numb it, and isn't everything better off numb? You don't feel the pain anymore, do you?

You don't just not feel pain when you're numb, you don't feel anything at all.

Time. Time is essential. Giving yourself time is essential, giving the wound time to heal is essential.

Yeah, it looks like there is no hope sometimes. No light. Only a dangerous stormy cloud looming over everything, pausing everything.

But stormy clouds collect, collect and collect, it thunders, the day is as dark as the night;

"I-I-It's s-so hard, L-Lou." Harry sobbed, words muffled by Louis' t-shirt. "I just d-don't know,"

But then, it rains. Rains, pours, so much you think it would flood, and you'd drown. But once the downpour stops, the clouds clear out.

The rain will stop. The clouds will clear. The sun will shine again.

Wounded hearts will grow stronger, broken bones will grow firmer. Light of hope and love and sheer joy will fill the cracks in your soul. All you need is time.

"Time takes time to heal it, you can't do it by yourself," Louis whispered into his skin, as though he were pressing the words deep inside him, pressing them into his heart for him to cling to, for him to believe in, for him to use to hold and stand up from where he'd fell.

Harry inhales the sliver of hope, exhales the weight on his heart.

(One year later)

"'M home!" Louis called out as he walked in, shutting the door behind him. "Haz?" He frowned when he doesn't get any response. "Baby?" He toed his shoes off, set his bag on the rack. He makes his way up the stairs to his bedroom.

(It's mostly their bedroom, but sometimes Harry had bad days when he broke in pieces again but insisted on being left alone, so he could pick them up himself without Louis' help)

Harry was stood on the balcony, wrapped in a thick shawl over his jumper. He let out a foggy breath, nose and cheeks pink from the cold wind.

"Hello there," Louis murmured softly, placing his palm on the small of his back. "Hi," Harry breathed out, leaning towards Louis.

"Good?" Louis asked, wrapping an arm around his waist. Harry tucked his nose in his neck. 'Hold me, need a minute' . They stood silently, Louis occasionally gave his hip a light squeeze. 'It's okay, I'm here.'

"It'll be two years tomorrow." He finally spoke, voice just above a whisper.

"Yeah," Louis replied, kissing his temple. 'Go on'.

"I wanna- I wanna go visit." He tripped over his words. "Visit their graves."

"Darling," Louis wasn't expecting that. He brought his face up, even surprised when he saw no tears. "Are you sure, love?"

Harry nodded. He was scared, trembling even, but was determined.

"We'll go tomorrow then." Harry smiled a little. Louis kissed his forehead. The doorbell rang.
"Oh, I ordered onion pizza?" Harry shrugs.
"Why didn't you tell me!" Louis gasped, playfully swatting his arm. "I could have brought wine on the way home!"
"We'll make do with eggnog." Harry smiled, dimples and all. Louis gave him a quick peck on the lips, sparing his dimple a little kiss too.
"I'll go get it." He ran down the stairs.

Alone again, Harry let out a shuddery breath before stepping back into the room and closing the doors, even making a small doodle on the fogged up glass.

"Haz?"
"Coming!" He spared one glance at the window, sealing it shut before heading down.

It was snowing.