Could've Been Golden || Louis & Harry
So I write shit like this when I'm bored and angsty and sick. I don't even know how it happened but it's really depressing me tbqh. Also, Hayley and her fucking music suggestions are a curse never to be trusted tbh. :)))
“I, Louis William Tomlinson, take you, Eleanor Jane Calder to be my wife. For richer, for poorer...”
He felt his chest constrict and his heart clench as his best friend voiced his statement. He stood there and smiled and pretended to be happy. Really, he was slowly losing it. It wasn’t fair that Louis did this to him; that he put him through this. The fact that Louis was marrying off on its own left huge bruise on the inside of Harry’s ribcage, but asking him to be best man, that was just cruel.
So now he just stood there and smiled in a tux that suffocated him as the pair spoke of their undying devotion to each other and every word ate away at his sanity bit by bit. He wanted to scream and cry and object til his lungs ran out of hair and his throat burnt with the screams he breathed out.
But, of course, he didn’t. He couldn’t do that, not to Louis.
The grin plastered on Louis’ face as he spoke his words lit up the room and Eleanor’s answering one only brightened it some more. They were happy; they were together; and Harry was just...there, unhappy and alone. He couldn’t be selfish, not now; not with Louis. Just because he felt a sting in his chest and his ribs bending in the most painful manner every time he realized Louis wasn’t his doesn’t mean he can wreck this for him. The worst part about loving someone is that you’re always selfish with them, wanting them for yourself; the worst part about loving Louis is fighting that urge.
The entire wedding went by in a blurry haze; a dull and cold atmosphere that killed down that little spark and glimmer of hope Harry had of having Louis. Before tonight, there was always a chance; there was always hope; there was always something to dream of. But now, now there’s no light at the end of the tunnel, just another tunnel and another and another til he’s just snaps and loses it; then the tunnels would collapse and that’d be it for him and Louis. Until then though, he’ll just stand here and smile, sipping champagne and watching as Louis shared a dance with his wife, the love he held for her in just his eyes piercing through Harry’s chest til he actually thought he would drop dead right here.
_________________________
Three years, five months and eight days; that’s how long it’d been since the wedding; three years, five months and eight days since the day Harry thought he’d die; three years, five months and eight days and he still feels the exact same.
That feeling of a sharp blade piercing through him is still there but he’s become quite accustomed to it. He’d feel a sharp sting and lose his breath and get lightheaded in Louis’ presence, but really, it was not too big a difference from how he felt before the wedding. He couldn’t have him then, and he definitely couldn’t have him now. He always knew it, Louis was never his; he was never going to be. Harry might’ve entertained himself with idea of actually having the one he loves but in the end; he always knew that was all it was - an idea; a dream; a desire and need with no reality to back it up.
And here he was now, walking up into his best friend’s flat hearing the sound of a child’s screaming as soon as the door slid open.
“Uncle Styles!” Sophia’s voice was just another reminder of what he couldn’t have with Louis. She sounded like him, more feminine of course, but it was the same tone; the same way of speaking, always a little grin playing on the corner of the lips. It made him smile and hurt all at once and he knew it was only because that was Louis’ daughter and only Louis could actually do that to him.
“Ah, ‘ello princess!” He ducked down and picked her up off the floor, her tutu skirt flying up as he did and her giggles filled the air as he twirled her around. “Look what I’ve got for you today.” He pulled out the tiara he’d bought for her yesterday. He didn’t really understand why but he felt such strong care and affection towards the daughter of the man he loved and the woman he envied so deeply. Sophia gasped and grabbed the accessory, slapping it onto her head in a sloppy motion; the crown sitting tilted on her head. She twisted and fidgeted til he let her go and she ran shouting “Mommy! Look!” as he laughed after her.
“You always get her her favourite things, how do you do that?” Louis’ voice came from the kitchen and Harry turned abruptly at the sound, silently and inwardly screaming at the pain he felt in his chest again. “How do you know exactly what she wants?” Louis was looking at him with the most fascinated expression as he leaned against the kitchen wall with his arms crossed over his chest.
Harry took a while to breathe and regain himself before he could actually speak. “Paternal instincts of a non-parent, I guess.” He shrugged and looked anywhere but his friend. He could feel Louis’ gaze burning at him, the intense blue staring right at him and seeing everything he tried to keep hidden.
“We’re setting up lunch if you wanted to join...” Louis turned and gestured towards the half-set kitchen table. “Sophia’s got loads to tell you.” He smiled a warm smile, the corners of his eyes still crinkled in all the same places and the blade in Harry’s chest twisted once more.
“I’ve actually got lots to do...” He was turning on his heels already, heading straight for the door and hoping the more distance he puts in, the less pain he’ll feel. He knew he was wrong, but there was nothing wrong with hoping.
“Harry, I’ve got loads to tell you.” His voice was so stern and demanding that Harry actually stopped and turned back to see the desperation and hope swimming in that blue gaze. Louis sighed and pushed himself off the wall he leaned on, taking in a deep breath before he spoke again. “I just miss you, Hazza.” He stated so simply, like he didn’t realize how many needles that statement drove into the younger lad’s heart. Harry actually felt a little part of him die away at the trepidation in Louis’ eyes.
“Well, it is Eleanor’s cooking. I couldn’t really say no.” He spared his friend a weak smile, earning a bright and shining one in return; the crinkles in Louis’ eyes coming into view once more. Louis put his arm on his friend’s shoulder as he walked him to the table and Harry just walked along; burying the pain; cherishing the current touch on his skin. He couldn’t have Louis, but he could have moments like these. He’ll just try and enjoy them because they were the only thing he could have.
__________________________
Eighteen years later, Harry, Louis and Eleanor sat at Sophia’s graduation, clapping away as she received her certificate on that big, big stage. She’d gotten compliments and congratulations and gifts and now, she finally had the chance to breathe and talk to her family alone.
“Mum, Dad, Uncle Styles. Proud of me yet?” She grinned at the three and they all took turns to hug her and whisper their congratulations. Harry stood there with a wide grin and proud eyes as he looked at little, old Sophia. Sophia with the tiaras and tutus and magic wands; a qualified chemist now.
They threw her a party, dancing and drinking and just enjoying their selves. Harry decided against the drinking. He hadn’t been doing it much lately and he didn’t much feel like starting again. He spent most of the evening sitting around, catching glimpses of Louis and Eleanor laughing together and sometimes, he was pretty close to getting a glass or two. He caught Sophia in the midst of it all and surprisingly, she’d remained sober as well.
“You’re absolutely brilliant, you know that?” That was probably the hundredth compliment he’d given her that day, but she deserved it and more. She smiled at him and, without notice, pushed forward and held him in a tight hug. He was surprised, but he returned the favour; holding the girl tight in his arms as she did the same.
“I’m sorry you love him so much.” She whispered into his ear and pulled back from the hug. He didn’t understand what she meant at first but she glanced at Louis and suddenly, it made sense. His eyes told stories as they widened with shock. How did she even know? “And I’m sorry he doesn’t return the favour.” Her eyes were sad and comforting; the blue orbs bringing back memories he so desperately tried to keep down.
“What...” He trailed off. How was he supposed to respond; how was he supposed to justify what he felt. They always thought of him as family; as a friend; and the way he felt, he believed of himself as anything but.
She gave him her most sympathetic smile; pecked him on the cheek softly; and walked off.
He didn’t know how he should react; didn’t know if he should react at all. All he knew was that more than twenty-one years later, he still felt the same and even others could tell. Twenty-one fucking years later and that blade was still twisting in his chest and it wouldn’t let go.
...This is the last time, I'm gonna say this. I loved you more, than anything. And I still do...
“I, Louis William Tomlinson, take you, Eleanor Jane Calder to be my wife. For richer, for poorer...”
He felt his chest constrict and his heart clench as his best friend voiced his statement. He stood there and smiled and pretended to be happy. Really, he was slowly losing it. It wasn’t fair that Louis did this to him; that he put him through this. The fact that Louis was marrying off on its own left huge bruise on the inside of Harry’s ribcage, but asking him to be best man, that was just cruel.
So now he just stood there and smiled in a tux that suffocated him as the pair spoke of their undying devotion to each other and every word ate away at his sanity bit by bit. He wanted to scream and cry and object til his lungs ran out of hair and his throat burnt with the screams he breathed out.
But, of course, he didn’t. He couldn’t do that, not to Louis.
The grin plastered on Louis’ face as he spoke his words lit up the room and Eleanor’s answering one only brightened it some more. They were happy; they were together; and Harry was just...there, unhappy and alone. He couldn’t be selfish, not now; not with Louis. Just because he felt a sting in his chest and his ribs bending in the most painful manner every time he realized Louis wasn’t his doesn’t mean he can wreck this for him. The worst part about loving someone is that you’re always selfish with them, wanting them for yourself; the worst part about loving Louis is fighting that urge.
The entire wedding went by in a blurry haze; a dull and cold atmosphere that killed down that little spark and glimmer of hope Harry had of having Louis. Before tonight, there was always a chance; there was always hope; there was always something to dream of. But now, now there’s no light at the end of the tunnel, just another tunnel and another and another til he’s just snaps and loses it; then the tunnels would collapse and that’d be it for him and Louis. Until then though, he’ll just stand here and smile, sipping champagne and watching as Louis shared a dance with his wife, the love he held for her in just his eyes piercing through Harry’s chest til he actually thought he would drop dead right here.
_________________________
Three years, five months and eight days; that’s how long it’d been since the wedding; three years, five months and eight days since the day Harry thought he’d die; three years, five months and eight days and he still feels the exact same.
That feeling of a sharp blade piercing through him is still there but he’s become quite accustomed to it. He’d feel a sharp sting and lose his breath and get lightheaded in Louis’ presence, but really, it was not too big a difference from how he felt before the wedding. He couldn’t have him then, and he definitely couldn’t have him now. He always knew it, Louis was never his; he was never going to be. Harry might’ve entertained himself with idea of actually having the one he loves but in the end; he always knew that was all it was - an idea; a dream; a desire and need with no reality to back it up.
And here he was now, walking up into his best friend’s flat hearing the sound of a child’s screaming as soon as the door slid open.
“Uncle Styles!” Sophia’s voice was just another reminder of what he couldn’t have with Louis. She sounded like him, more feminine of course, but it was the same tone; the same way of speaking, always a little grin playing on the corner of the lips. It made him smile and hurt all at once and he knew it was only because that was Louis’ daughter and only Louis could actually do that to him.
“Ah, ‘ello princess!” He ducked down and picked her up off the floor, her tutu skirt flying up as he did and her giggles filled the air as he twirled her around. “Look what I’ve got for you today.” He pulled out the tiara he’d bought for her yesterday. He didn’t really understand why but he felt such strong care and affection towards the daughter of the man he loved and the woman he envied so deeply. Sophia gasped and grabbed the accessory, slapping it onto her head in a sloppy motion; the crown sitting tilted on her head. She twisted and fidgeted til he let her go and she ran shouting “Mommy! Look!” as he laughed after her.
“You always get her her favourite things, how do you do that?” Louis’ voice came from the kitchen and Harry turned abruptly at the sound, silently and inwardly screaming at the pain he felt in his chest again. “How do you know exactly what she wants?” Louis was looking at him with the most fascinated expression as he leaned against the kitchen wall with his arms crossed over his chest.
Harry took a while to breathe and regain himself before he could actually speak. “Paternal instincts of a non-parent, I guess.” He shrugged and looked anywhere but his friend. He could feel Louis’ gaze burning at him, the intense blue staring right at him and seeing everything he tried to keep hidden.
“We’re setting up lunch if you wanted to join...” Louis turned and gestured towards the half-set kitchen table. “Sophia’s got loads to tell you.” He smiled a warm smile, the corners of his eyes still crinkled in all the same places and the blade in Harry’s chest twisted once more.
“I’ve actually got lots to do...” He was turning on his heels already, heading straight for the door and hoping the more distance he puts in, the less pain he’ll feel. He knew he was wrong, but there was nothing wrong with hoping.
“Harry, I’ve got loads to tell you.” His voice was so stern and demanding that Harry actually stopped and turned back to see the desperation and hope swimming in that blue gaze. Louis sighed and pushed himself off the wall he leaned on, taking in a deep breath before he spoke again. “I just miss you, Hazza.” He stated so simply, like he didn’t realize how many needles that statement drove into the younger lad’s heart. Harry actually felt a little part of him die away at the trepidation in Louis’ eyes.
“Well, it is Eleanor’s cooking. I couldn’t really say no.” He spared his friend a weak smile, earning a bright and shining one in return; the crinkles in Louis’ eyes coming into view once more. Louis put his arm on his friend’s shoulder as he walked him to the table and Harry just walked along; burying the pain; cherishing the current touch on his skin. He couldn’t have Louis, but he could have moments like these. He’ll just try and enjoy them because they were the only thing he could have.
__________________________
Eighteen years later, Harry, Louis and Eleanor sat at Sophia’s graduation, clapping away as she received her certificate on that big, big stage. She’d gotten compliments and congratulations and gifts and now, she finally had the chance to breathe and talk to her family alone.
“Mum, Dad, Uncle Styles. Proud of me yet?” She grinned at the three and they all took turns to hug her and whisper their congratulations. Harry stood there with a wide grin and proud eyes as he looked at little, old Sophia. Sophia with the tiaras and tutus and magic wands; a qualified chemist now.
They threw her a party, dancing and drinking and just enjoying their selves. Harry decided against the drinking. He hadn’t been doing it much lately and he didn’t much feel like starting again. He spent most of the evening sitting around, catching glimpses of Louis and Eleanor laughing together and sometimes, he was pretty close to getting a glass or two. He caught Sophia in the midst of it all and surprisingly, she’d remained sober as well.
“You’re absolutely brilliant, you know that?” That was probably the hundredth compliment he’d given her that day, but she deserved it and more. She smiled at him and, without notice, pushed forward and held him in a tight hug. He was surprised, but he returned the favour; holding the girl tight in his arms as she did the same.
“I’m sorry you love him so much.” She whispered into his ear and pulled back from the hug. He didn’t understand what she meant at first but she glanced at Louis and suddenly, it made sense. His eyes told stories as they widened with shock. How did she even know? “And I’m sorry he doesn’t return the favour.” Her eyes were sad and comforting; the blue orbs bringing back memories he so desperately tried to keep down.
“What...” He trailed off. How was he supposed to respond; how was he supposed to justify what he felt. They always thought of him as family; as a friend; and the way he felt, he believed of himself as anything but.
She gave him her most sympathetic smile; pecked him on the cheek softly; and walked off.
He didn’t know how he should react; didn’t know if he should react at all. All he knew was that more than twenty-one years later, he still felt the same and even others could tell. Twenty-one fucking years later and that blade was still twisting in his chest and it wouldn’t let go.
...This is the last time, I'm gonna say this. I loved you more, than anything. And I still do...