Louis was running. Running as fast as he could as the icy wind whipped at his face, a warm hand in his.
“Don’t stop running, Lou!” Harry’s voice sounded like home and he was going to forget that. He wouldn’t even know how to miss it once he finally woke up.
“I want to keep this one,” he whispered to Harry as Harry tugged him along, toward the cliff face where they’d spent their last moments as boyfriends.
After that they’d been fiancées. Louis didn’t want to forget this part. He didn’t want to forget the way his hand had trembled as Harry slipped the ring onto his fourth finger on his left hand.
Harry the sneaky bastard who’d proposed just hours before Louis had planned to propose to him.
There, on the grassy cliffs of that Irish landmark with the fog rolling in and obstructing any view that wasn’t Harry’s forest green eyes, they’d made a promise to each other. A promise to share a life and a future and Louis didn’t want to forget that, not really.
He heard a thunderous crack as he pushed forward, lungs burning with exhaustion. They’d tried this all night. There were only a few more memories left and then Harry would be gone. He had to stop it.
He braved a glance over his shoulder and watched as the ground gave way from behind them. The memory was collapsing. There was nowhere left to run but Harry kept pulling him toward the cliffs.
“Come on, Lou, don’t let go,” he pleaded as he tugged Louis closer and closer to the cliff face.
Louis’ foot caught on a rock and he stumbled, letting go of Harry’s hand.
For one brief second the world froze and it was just Harry. Harry standing on the edge of the cliff, hair whipping violently as the wind from the angry Irish Sea blew salt across their faces.
“Hey!” Louis yelled as loud as he could, staring up at the darkening sky “can you hear me? I don’t want this anymore! I want to call it off!”
And then just like that, the earth fell from beneath his and Harry’s feet and they both plunged into darkness.