Louis sighs loudly as he goes through his suitcase. Darkness pours in through the windows of Louis' room on the tour bus as they speed down the highway. Occasionally, a street light will momentarily light up his room enough for him to see without having to turn on the lights.

He stops as he sees something sprawled across the floor, something he hasn't seen in years. Quickly, he pulls out his phone and shines his flashlight on the material. His heart stops as he sees the light denim jacket. The white wool on the inside of it isn't as white as it used to be, Louis notices. 

It must've been at the bottom of a pile Louis picked up to pack. Of course, he wouldn't pack the stupid thing itself. He didn't even know he still had the jacket. Now, it sits on the floor and smiles up at him, mocking him. 

Louis sinks to his knees and reaches a shaky hand out to touch the jacket. His fingers ghost over the denim material before he grabs it and brings it closer to his face. Tears threaten his eyes as he remembers the last time he wore it.

The movers came and cleaned out his room the week before. He was sick of walking past that part in his own house and feel so sick. Louis locked himself in his own room as they carried his things out. They're in a storage room somewhere, somewhere Louis doesn't know so he doesn't go back to them. 

Eleanor moved in. The wedding came and went and six months had passed since the love of his life vanished. No word from him. No word from anyone about him. 

"Louis, can you get me that box of your mother's old clothes? We were supposed to mail them out to her last week but I totally forgot," Eleanor asks. Louis looks up from his breakfast and nods, knowing where the box is. 

His feet take him up and towards the back of his home. They stop in front of the door to a room he promised himself he would never go into. It's empty now. It's been stripped and aired out for months. There's nothing of him left in there, Louis tells himself. 

Slowly, he turns the knob to the door and pushes it open. Light shines in through large windows and the walls are white. It's bare. It's just a room. Louis forces his eyes forward as he moves towards the closet where the box is. 

He grabs it and allows it's weight to ground him. He's fine. He turns back around and starts towards the door but stops as he sees something out of the corner of his eye. Louis stops and glances at the object under the bed. A black mass covered in a shadow. 

Carefully, Louis sets the box on the ground and walks over the to the thing under the bed and pulls it out. The jacket. Tears immediately well up into Louis' eyes as he sees the jacket. The white wool inside of it is bright white still and the denim is crisp in his hold. 

The heartbreak shatters him again and he falls apart. He brings the jacket to his chest and hugs it tightly, wishing that it was Harry in his arms. He doesn't care that he left and he doesn't care about the stupid words that they screamed at each other, he wants him back. Louis would drop everything if it meant having his boy back. 

Through tears, he slips his arms through the holes of the sleeves and wraps the jacket around his thin frame. It's easy to do now as he's lost so much weight. Louis pushes his face against the inside of the coat, wanting to be engulfed by the feeling of being with Harry one last time. Harry's familiar seems to be forever attached to the thing. 

Louis didn't remember putting the jacket on, but he's wrapped up in it again. The scent the jacket carries has faded over the years, but it's still there if you know what you're looking for and Louis does. It's worn in now and not nearly as crisp. It doesn't engulf Louis anymore either. He remembers the first time he wore it like it was yesterday.

"Race you to the tree," Harry cheers. Louis smiles over at him and shakes his head. 

"Get ready to lose," Louis laughs as he lets go of Harry's hand and darts towards the tree at the other end of the park. He can hear Harry's loud protest behind him as he races after Louis. Darkness covers them and the path towards the tree is light up only by street lights stationed at the perimeter. It's enough light so nobody can see them, but enough to still see. 

Louis touches the tree first and laughs loudly as Harry protests, touching the tree a couple of moments later. A sudden chill washes over Louis and he rubs his arms to warm himself up. He didn't realize how chilly it was outside until now.

"You cold," Harry asks. Louis looks up at Harry and smiles as Louis leans against the tree, Harry facing him. 

"A bit, but I'll be fine," Louis shrugs it off. Harry steps closer and puts his hands to either side of Louis' body. 

"You sure, don't want you getting sick," Harry replies softly. His lips moving to hover over Louis' skin. Louis smiles and places his hands on Harry's sides. "Your skin is freezing, take my jacket," Harry says. He pulls away and starts to remove his jacket but Louis stops him.

"No, it's yours, you'll be without," Louis complains. Harry shrugs and drapes the sleeves of the denim jacket over Louis' shoulders. He wants to protest more, demanding Harry to put the jacket back on but the warmth of the jacket is nice, Louis admits. It smells like him too. 

"It's ours now, Love. We'll share joint custody," Harry laughs as he leans in and presses their lips together. Louis smiles into the kiss. 

Joint custody. How silly Harry was to think he would ever get the jacket back. Without thinking, he grabs his phone. His finger taps the Telegraph icon, a new-app that he uses religiously. 

His slides past his profile and towards the search bar. The app has just about everything anyone could want it and put Instagram, Twitter, and Snapchat to shame when it appeared in the app stores. It was Instagram with Snapchat stories and notifications for when people are typing and screenshot notifications. However, it also had the ability to switch between personal and private without having to have two separate accounts. Every celebrity has one. 

The familiar name looks back up at him as he scrolls through the different icons, trying to find the right one. He stops as he sees a face he recognizes looking back up at him. This is a bad idea. He shouldn't do it, but the jacket has brought up so many emotions he can't seem to help himself as he clicks on the message option next to the name.

Me

Louis is typing...

Louis is typing...

No, this is a bad idea. Louis clicks off of the chat and sets his phone down. It's not down long before he gets a notification. 

Harry 

Harry is typing...

~_~_~

Back by popular demand. ~B