Chapter Text
It’s not until Harry is staring at his reflection while he brushed his teeth that it hits him. It’s like a tsunami, slow at first before the huge wave comes crashing to destroy everything in its path. There’s hardly any time to rinse his mouth before he’s hitting the floor, head shoved between his knees, trying to get some air. His chest burns because no oxygen is making its way in. Harry tried to breathe, but he can’t.
All the calm waves, chants, and positive thoughts he’d tucked away in his mental toolbox have disappeared and there’s nothing but despair, anguish, and hurt.
“Oh, God!” Something warm touches his hands. Tears. Harry continues to struggle to catch his breath. With desperation, his arm reaches out and his hand touches the familiar shape of his phone. Only one name comes to mind.
There is no sense of time or space while waiting for a voice, anything , that can get Harry to remember how to breathe. Ever since Alberto’s last breath, Harry’s forgotten how to breathe himself.
“Hello?” The familiar voice shakes Harry from his thoughts. Finally. Help is here.
“Argh,” is all Harry manages to spit out. It’s his last resort. His Hail Mary.
“Harry, breathe! ” Zayn’s voice is loud, booming through the speaker. “Come on, buddy. You got this. INHALE!”
The echo of his voice is what pushes Harry into action. The tightness in his chest begins to simmer as the oxygen finally reaches his lungs.
“That’s it. Keep going, come on. Exhale with me,” Zayn is doing it with him and it helps. The ringing in his ears is dissipating and the haze it clearing up. “Good, good!”
“Fuck!” Harry finally manages to say something that makes sense. He doesn’t stop breathing as he continues listening to Zayn’s smooth, calming voice.
They don’t say anything for a few minutes after Harry’s finally got a good breathing rhythm going. Zayn’s someone Harry met just months after losing Alberto. Harry’s first attempt at trying to get himself out there, trying to fill the empty void his husband had left, he was desperate to fill it. It was Zayn’s warm, honey eyes that made him swipe right. They’d gone out for coffee and a walk down Sheridan by the beach, made good conversation that lasted hours. However, it was too soon for Harry. Zayn was understanding as ever and they’ve been friends ever since. It’s nice to have a friend that didn’t know Harry when Alberto was alive for some reason. As if Harry stopped existing when Alberto died too, and someone new reappeared to take his place. Who exactly that is, Harry’s still working with his therapist on figuring it out.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Zayn’s sweet voice brings Harry out of his thoughts. He sighs.
“Today’s the anniversary of Bertie’s death,” he says. Still not an easy thing to say, even three years later.
“Oh. Right,” he laments.
“I’m about to meet up with a guy,” Harry starts, his chest tries to tighten up again but he doesn’t let it this time.
“Oh?”
“Not a date or a hook up or anything, just. Didn’t want to be alone today is all,” he explains.
“Makes sense,” Zayn says. Harry loves how Zayn just meets him where he is and doesn’t try to pry more out of him. Let’s him take his time in getting out what he wants to say.
“Am I doing the right thing?” He asks before he can stop himself. Harry knows Zayn will be honest with him.
“What is the right thing?”
That makes Harry pause. What is the right thing? What is one supposed to do on the anniversary of the death of someone they loved? It’s not like they give you a handbook when you’re born with instructions on how one is supposed to behave or what they’re expected to do. There are no laws that society enforces for these things either. And from what Harry had learned going to grief group, people grieve in so many different ways, and none of those ways are wrong.
“Thanks, Zee. That helped,” Harry smiles, his body relaxed now that he’d gotten out of his head.
“I’m happy to help,” he says. “Have fun meeting this new person. I’ll be here whenever you want to tell me about it.”
It’s always nerve wracking meeting people on the internet even if you have verified who they are via video chat. Are you going to be stood up and completely waste your time? Are they going to be a Trump supporter? Are they going to try to get you to join a cult? Did they manage to get their really hot friend/relative to video chat just to get you to meet them because they’re way too insecure about their looks? It can go anywhere, the possibilities are endless.
Harry lives walking distance to the cafe and decides to get there five minutes early. He always likes being first, to watch the person coming in for some reason. As he’s about to line up to order, he sees a familiar set of blue eyes, already staring at him. Louis is sitting in the back corner with a cup of something on the table. He waves at Harry with a smirk, and all Harry can do is nod.
“Sorry, I would have bought you a drink when I arrived but I had no clue what you liked,” Louis explains when Harry arrives to the table with his caramel mocha.
“Oh, it’s okay,” Harry waves him off.
“Caramel mocha?” Louis asks, eyeing his drink. Harry nods. Louis lifts his own cup, “Yorkshire tea, a splash of milk,” he explains.
“Gotcha,” Harry says, sitting across the beautiful man.
It’s an awkward start at first, but all first meetings usually are. They go over the basics: where they’re from, family, friends, etc.
“Have you met many people on Reddit?” Louis asks before taking a sip of his tea.
“Not at all, you’re my first actually,” Harry reveals. “My friend mentioned it to me, thought I would check it out.”
“Is this friend someone you’re seeing?” Louis leans in, as if not wanting to miss Harry’s answer.
Harry’s eyebrows furrow, “Who, Niall? God no. He’s like my brother, and he’s married to a wonderful man who would probably murder me if I ever did,” he jokes.
Louis’ eyes crinkle at the corners, his smile widens. “Jealous guy?”
“The most,” Harry confirms. “But no, Niall’s just been trying to get me to date,” he explains. “You know how married people are, always trying to get you to be like them.” He fails to mention that he used to be like Niall. Married.
“Oh right,” Louis laughs. “My best friend Liam’s the same way. Always trying to get me to meet his wife’s colleagues. She owns a gay bar in Boystown.”
Harry remembers that Zayn manages one of the gay bars in that area too.
“What do you do for work?” He asks Louis.
“Liam offered me a job at the nonprofit he runs in the city that helps LGBTQIA+ youth. They just received a shit ton of funding from the city and he needed my help with managing the funds. I’m an accountant,” he explains.
It feels like he’s in a trance talking to Louis, like when Harry gets into one of his deep meditations. What feels like just a few minutes, is actually hours, they both realize when they check the time.
“When did it get dark outside?” Harry asks, truly shocked he hadn’t noticed.
Louis’ chuckle is airy and light, “No idea. Want to get out of here?”
Harry’s already standing as he nods. It’s gotten chilly since the sun has set, which is normal for this time of year.
“Want to go for a ride and smoke?” Louis points his thumb at the blue Toyota Corrolla down the street.
Harry agrees as he follows Louis’ lead, unlocking the car with the remote. It already smells like weed and vanilla? He briefly wonders if that’s what Louis’ clothes smell like.
They cruise down Lakeshore Drive. Harry loves this commute and never complains even when it’s packed. It’s a beautiful view surrounded by water and high buildings wrapped with beautiful lights all over. Like Christmas but every night after the sun disappears. It’s one of Harry’s favorite things about living in a city like Chicago. He’ll never tire of it.
They get off on the Montrose exit, inching toward the lake. Louis finds them a nice secluded area for them to park. He cracks the windows upen before shutting off the ignition. They exchange glances for a quick moment before Louis reaches for his pipe. Harry had already had a gummy before leaving his apartment. A small dose. Something that would help calm his anxiety but would keep him present enough to talk to Louis. Louis offers him the pipe after taking his hit. It takes Harry a moment to realize, still caught up at the sight of seeing Louis sucking on the pipe with his mouth like that.
“Thanks,” he says, taking the thing between his fingers and lighting it. The familiar smoke burns in the best of ways. He hadn’t been into weed at all until a few months ago. Harry found it more calming and chilling than drinking alcohol. All alcohol did was give him dark thoughts, mostly about joining Alberto, wherever he was. So he stopped drinking, and now smokes on occasion. He’s still learning about the different strains and ingesting small amounts, not wanting to overdo it or create an unhealthy habit. He also finds that weed helps his mind quiet down enough to have a good meditation session. He tells Louis all of this as soon as the weed hits just a minute later.
“I only drink when I’m with friends,” Louis tells him. “But if I’m alone, I just smoke to be able to sleep.”
There’s no more explanation about why Louis has trouble sleeping, but Harry doesn’t pry. He gets it though, sleeping can be a pain in the ass. Harry should know.
“Can I tell you something?” Harry asks after his third hit. His face is warm, and his eyes are starting to have some weight to them.
“Anything.”
“My husband died three years ago today,” Harry confessed. “I didn’t want to be alone. That’s why I made the Reddit post.” Surprisingly, it doesn’t sting the way it usually does when Harry talks about Bertie’s death.
There’s a slight movement of Louis’ mouth. His eyes land on Harry. It’s not that pitiful stare that he always gets when he tells someone that his husband is dead. God, Harry hates that look. No, this one is warm, almost hypnotizing Harry. There’s no sign of pity anywhere near those gorgeous blues. There’s a warm pressure on his leg and Harry realizes it’s Louis’ hand.
“I’m glad you’re not alone right now, Harry,” he almost whispers. The sound makes Harry shiver. Or it could have also been a slight breeze from the cracked window, whatever.
What matters is that right now, in this very moment, Harry is glad he’s not alone either.