i'm free writing this expect some errors

harry in the story.

louis; but in the beginning he still wears his 2011-2012 outfits praise jesus.

heres the story. enjoy! like vote and comment!

supermarket flowers.

i'm sick of it here.
i'm sick of all the waiting.

watching, waiting, walking.

i'm sick of this place.
all i ever do is hope
and all my hope is
always diminished.

im sick of these people.
they look at my with
with....

pity.

i don't want it.
i didn't choose it.
i don't want to be here.

i am here more days
than there are holidays.

i am here more minutes
than there are houses in
this place
we call earth.

i am here more seconds
than there are grains of
sand on a
shoreline.

i am here more
than i am at my own home.

i want to go
home.

but i can't.

i am here right now.

and i am sick of being here.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

i have only seen the same people
return here only once or twice.

maybe four or five,
if they need it.

but they all go once their
needs are satisfied.

my needs, it appears,
don't exist.

my wants and my needs seem
to be confused in a sense.

i dont know which one is which
anymore.

but i guess i do because,

i want what i need,
and i need what i want ,
but it doesn't matter because
i get neither.

however;

i am here today,
a new day from
the day before,

sitting in the same red chair
with a tear in the right corner seam,
and a carved X on the left arm rest,
6 centimeters away from where
my ring finger lays

and i see someone.

someone new.

he is ....

small.

but maybe i am just
tall.

or maybe it's both.

but i see his reddened cheeks
coated with a slight wash of
sun - induced freckles as he
stands before the check in desk
and i start to wonder,

"why is he so small?"

but i don't get to see the other
half of his button nose or his
caramel fringe or his white
t - shirt or his belted blue pants
that seem to hug him harder
than my mother ever could
myself

because he walks away from
the check in desk and into the
oh so familiar beige room with
layers of memorized (for
myself, at least) charts and graphs
that try to tell me what my problem
where my problem
or how my problem

is.

but as he walks away i start to wonder,

"why is he so small?"

and i guess i wondered so much that
i didnt hear my name being called.

the name that i hear everyday
summoning me into the beige room
with
layers of memorized
charts and graphs that try
to tell me what my problem
where my problem
or how my problem

is.

because i was too lost wondering
my wonders and i didnt stand and
i guess thats a problem because
now there are people standing
in front of me and i dont know why,
and one of them is the nurse and the
other one is the
the small boy.

i smile and surpass all the incoming
comments:

"are you okay?"

"sir, can you hear me?"

"is he asleep?"

"are you absurd? his eyes are open, niall!" and a slight smack of the head is heard.

i blink once
i blink twice
and grab the X to push
myself upwards and
walk towards
the small boy.

he looks up at me with
big blue eyes that are placed
above the sun - induced freckles
and i almost stare for more than
a moment.

my height, i notice,
resembles that of a
skyscraper.
he is just...
so small.

i inhale,
i exhale.

and i look at the other half
of his caramel fringe
and his button nose

and i finally feel

a sense of home.

"why are you so small?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

the day after the
previous day
is better than the
previous day of
the previous day prior.

i saw him again,
the small boy.

i saw his caramel fringe
that swept across the tanned
skin of his forehead.

and with that i soon realize
he had never answered my
question.

he did not answer my
question, he walked
into his room after
nurse teasdale called
him back for his appointment.

i remember that exact moment.

the way he had
looked at me with
his big, blue, innocent eyes
that seemed to look
right through every
lie i have ever told.

and the way he had
looked so... so guilty

when he was torn from
the situation like all of
the other bystanders, and
return to his appointment.

return to his daily life,
that didn't include my
silly questions.

and although he did not
remember my question,
he remembered me.

because today, while i was
sitting, waiting in my red torn
chair, he appeared at my large,
boot covered feet.

"hello. " he said.

"hi. "

"what is your name? you were talking to me yesterday, and i never did catch it."

"i'm harry. i was talking to you yesterday."

he furrows his eyebrows, and looks at me funny. why?

"i know." he says, confusion laced in his voice. "i saw you too. " he seems to drag out the words as if i speak another language, and he is trying to translate his native to me.

"so yesterday, you asked me a question."

he remembers?

"i know."

"well, do you want an answer?"

i stare at his small body, and almost get lost in his cinnamon swirl haircut.

i squint my eyes at him, curious as to what he is on about.

"answer to what?"

he tilts his head slightly, and chuckles.

"your question. would you like me to answer it?"

he raises one eyebrow, condescendingly.

and as he does, i gasp; internally, and externally. i clutch the edges of the wooden arm rests.

"i guess?"

he laughs at me. i don't understand.

"well, ask me again."

"ask you what?"

"huh?"

i furrow my eyebrows, thinking for a minute.

"oh!"

i feel a crawling inside of me. i cannot believe i forgot about my question. and now i look like an idiot.

i laugh nervously. i prepare myself, and ask my recurring question,

"why are you so small?"

he laughs again.

"my mom. she's the reason. genes and stuff, ya know? she's very small."

he has a smirk on his face while he speaks, and he seems to know something i do not. i don't like it.

"genes? how do your mother's pants have anything to do with your size?"

he clutches his stomach, and bursts out with a contagious laughter following his contagious smile. if i wasn't sick already, i defiantly was now.

"you're funny."

...what?

"ok. "

he gives me a look of bewilderment before i continue the conversation.

"anyway, your mother cannot possibly be smaller than you."

"yes she is! she's very short. like, smaller than me small."

"that's not possible."

"how?"

"cause you're just a small baby."

he goes silent, and eyes me up and down.

"what?"

"you need protecting. you're very small. very vulnerable. you can get hurt easily."

"and why is that your problem love?"

my heart flutters and his choice of words.

"because if you weren't so small and vulnerable, maybe you wouldn't be here."

i motion around the environment behind me, specifically the sign on the right wall, three feet away from an exit sign.

cheshire medical center.

he looks down at his van clad feet. his feet are very small. and so are his jeans. how tight can jeans be?

"oh. i mean, i guess." he finishes, with a sadness hidden in his words.

why is he sad now?

"yeah. " it goes silent again.

"who protects you?" i ask.

"who protects me?"

"yeah."

"i think whats more important here is knowing who protects you, sweetheart."

i slowly look down at my rolling stones t - shirt and play with a loose thread.

"no need. i prot-"

"louis tomlinson?"

the small boy stands, or, louis tomlinson, his red pants falling a millimeter from where they stood before.

and as he starts walking towards the oh so familiar beige room,

turns around again.

"this conversation isn't over."

louis tomlinson.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

the day after the
previous day
is better than the
previous day of
the previous day prior.

and the day after that
was superior to the
day prior to that one.

today is a new day.

louis is here again, sat at
the chair right beside mine.

a chair that was once occupied
but was left open after some time.

...

but that's not important.

what's important is that
louis is sitting right beside
me with a sly smirk on
his stunning face.

"hey love. how are you today?"

"i'm good louis, better now that you're here."

i sit and think for a moment, before speaking up again.

"hey, why are you here?"

louis shifts uncomfortably in his seat.
i didnt mean to make him
feel like that.

"you dont have to tell me. i mean, i probably wouldn't tell me either." i quickly mutter.

he nods, and sighs with relief.

"yeah. yeah, ok."

"harry styles?"

i slowly stand up from my chair.

my torn red chair, that i visit everyday.

i should just write my name on it,

that chair.

....

yeah.

"harry? you ready?"

i snap out of my daze and head over to the oh so familiar beige room, before hearing my name being beckoned again.

but it's not a nurse this time.

"haz?"

i turn my head to see the man who withholds such an indescribably unique voice.

"yes, lou?"

"nothing. just wanted to hear you talk before you go."

i feel my face turn red as i smile and turn back around.

and i swear i can hear a faint giggle from where an angelic human was sat.

/////

"so harry, how are you feeling?"

"like i do everyday, miss teasdale."

"everyday is just an exaggeration. there is no everyday in this room. there is only emotion- pain or joy in which you are feeling and i'm afraid 'everyday' is not one of them, mr. styles. "

i blink twice.

"i feel like i'm slowly losing my mind."

"elaborate."

"like i'm just going about my day and suddenly everything goes black. or i go to park my car and i suddenly forget how to drive. or i walk across the street and i suddenly just fall on my face. and sometimes, if i walk too long, i see fireflies all around me and pedestrians have to ask if i'm alright. if that's not losing my mind, i dont know what is. losing brain cells, perhaps."

"i've told you a million times, harry, you aren't crazy. these are serious symptoms of a serious condition that we have yet to figure out."

there is a knock at the door.

"come in."

in walks a built, tanned man that i clearly recognize but sometimes i dont. his hair is perfectly styled upwards into a hairstyle i cannot identify; seems to be another thing i have forgotten.

"hello mr. styles. "

he shakes my hand.

"hello doctor malik. nice to see you again."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

the day after yesterday-
which is also today-
is better than the day
before today- which
is also yesterday.

louis is here again.

i would find it odd that,
like me, he is here every
day

but i often forget to ask.
or i just tell myself that.

today louis talked to me
for a long time.
he asked me more questions
than there are lost bobby pins
underneath a mattress.

he asked me the traditional,

"what's your favorite color?"
(in which i answered orange.
louis smiled and said dark red.
i mentally changed my answer right
then and there)

i asked if he loved someone
he answered with
luke.
and i answered with
oh.

we talked about family,
he's got six siblings and a
mother and father.
i replied with me, myself, and i.

he looked sad.

but then he asked about my friends.
and i answered the same way.

he also asked about
my future.

i didn't like that very much.

"what do you want to be?"

...

"what?"

"what do you want to be?"

"um-"

"here, i'll help you out. i want to be a charity football player, and a drama teacher. a weird mix i may admit, but my passions none the less."

i was shocked.

how could he plan a future? how could he have such high hopes? how could he imagine such great things?"

'because unlike you, he has a future to plan.'

"harry?"

'because he doesn't have to worry about how long he's got.'

"haz?"

'when will it end? huh? 3 years? 6 months? 17 seconds?'

and all of a sudden there's a panicked louis on my right with his blue eyes shiny and a scared tall, tanned man with nice hair i cant remember the name of on my right and yelling all around me.

'...now?'

and suddenly all i see is blackness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

i wake up to a sight
of many a color.

i see a creamy
white peeking up from
all of the bright colors

i see a loud lilac purple
hidden between a
sunshine yellow and an
orange you cannot miss.

there is also a beautiful,
breathtakingly stunning
single
dark
burgundy on the other side
separate from the other colors.

"hazza! you're awake!"

i feel two strong arms wrap firmly around my lanky body.

"i was so scared, harry. what happened?"

he looked back at me with his big, blue eyes. how can i resist those eyes?

the answer is: i cannot.

"louis, i ha-"

"mr. styles, you're awake i see."

why do i never get to finish what i start?

a new doctor walks into the room, one i do not recognize.

he looks toward louis, and eyes him up and down. louis glares back at him.

"i'm afraid you have to leave sir, we are going to ask mr. styles a few questions."

louis looks at the doctor and back at me. he stares for a moment.

"ok."

he hugs me once again, and i can smell his fresh, masculine scent.

"i'll see you soon, love."

and he walks out of the room, leaving me alone with the new doctor, a faint beeping noise in the background, and butterflies in my tummy.

love.

i finally take in my surroundings.

....

oh. here again.

"so, mr. styles, i see here on your file that you are diagnosed with cre-"

"yes, doctor. i know my condition, you don't have to remind me."

i rub my temples. i hate titles. they make everything seem more real, and worse than they are.

the doctor rolls his eyes before continuing.

"ok then. well, it seems you had a seizure caused by an anxiety attack. tell me, mr. styles, what is it you were so anxious about?"

"what aren't i anxious about?"

"mr. styles, please cooperate, i am just trying to help you."

"who even are you?"

"i am doctor irwin, head doctor at halton general hospital. i'm here to help you understand the extremity of your condition."

"i already know the extremities, doc. i've been informed numerous times that i'm lucky if i'll be alive tomorrow."

"well, since this condition is untreatable, i need you to take better care of yourself. more relaxing activities, we can't have you having more anxiety attacks. those lead to seizures, which will lead to your death."

"wow. ever heard of 'sugar coating'?"

the doctor blatantly ignores my question.

"so, i recommend painting in your free time. lay low on the workouts, those may cause a heart attack if you push yourself to hard. spend time with your friends, who knows how long you have."

"i don't like you very much, doctor."

"who does?"

and he walks out of the room without another word.

////////////////////

later that evening, louis comes back into the room, holding a bouquet of flowers, filled with a multitude of colors that look oh so familiar but i cannot put my finger on it.

"hi haz. i-i got you these."

he hands me the large bouquet of flowers, some looking slightly dry, and a shy smile on his face.

"i remembered your favorite color was orange and- and how you smiled when i mentioned burgundy and all of the other flowers were just so....pretty, and i couldn't resist buying them, and the-"

he pauses for a moment, searching through the bouquet.

"ah, yes!"

he shows me the white carnation.

"yeah, this one, it reminded me of you. because you're so unique and different and i really like that about you and in a world of bright colors you still stand out the most and, and ..... yeah. here ya go."

he passes over the bouquet and i stare longingly at the beauty in front of me.

because in a world of beautiful flowers, louis is still the prettiest.

he is breathless by the end of his speech, and so am i.

"louis, i like you."

his breath hitches.

"louis you filled the empty chair next to me and you haven't left it open. you know i haven't felt at home in years? i was lonely, alone in my apartment of a heart and you come along and make this apartment a home. i like you, louis, and it's been like- two weeks but i like you and you don't have to say it back but i wanted to because that? that right there? was the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. i like you, louis. thank you for letting me like you." i smile at him, eyes watering, and his glistening as well.

"harry, i have a boyfriend. i love him."

he sounded skeptical.

but my already empty heart shattered. what did i expect?

i smiled at him anyway.

"i know. i just thought you should know." i whispered.

someone opens the door behind him.

"hey, kid. visiting hours are over. wrap it up."

the unknown hospital employee shuts the door.

"i'll talk to you tomorrow."

"ok. goodnight louis."

"goodnight harry."

he walks out the door with a sigh.

and if harry had listened enough,
had his hearing been what it once
was, he could've heard the incoherent
mumbles outside his door, mumbling
the reciprocated feelings as if he was
being listened to.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

it is a new day.

but not a new start.

i do not remember much of
this seemingly familiar building.

i got lost,
walking in.

i stumbled into the
ladies restroom where
i squeaked at the realization
and sprinted to the, what i hoped
was, the correct door.

i sat down at my seat.

i will always remember
my chair.

and beside it was a boy.
i recognize this boy, how
could i forget him?

he was sat at the seat next
to the chair with a tear at the
right corner seam,

with a bouquet.

"hi, harry. i missed you."

he sets down the bouquet on
his now empty chair and
hugs me tightly.

"louis," i giggle, "i was here yesterday. i'm here everyday."

"i know. but i haven't seen you since."

"give me your number and that won't be a problem anymore."

louis scrunches his forehead.

"harry, you know i-"

"who said we couldn't be friends?"

he sighs and caves in.

we exchange numbers, and sit back down.

"oh! these are for you!"

louis hands harry the new bouquet of flowers he had been awkwardly holding, this time just filled with sunflowers.

"aw, louis! you didn't have to!"

"read the note on the side! read it!"

i open the small card attached to the stems of the flowers.

"sunflowers are bright, yellow and in your face. you never miss them. but i can never focus on a simple sunflower when the sun is sitting right next to me.
-Lou xx"

i feel my heartbeat quicken and look up at the beautiful boy i've come to admire.

this man already has a boyfriend.

"thank you... so much louis. this means a lot to me."

we stand up and embrace in a hug that we've shared plenty times, but the feel of his small body pressed against mine never dulls.

"i have to go back now, love. luke and i are going out. text me tonight."

"ok. bye, louis. have fun."

and he walks away and into the cold england air.

/////////////////////////
louis.
"hey luke, i'm home!" i throw my keys down on the counter.

"took you long enough," he grunts, looking displeased.

"sorry, i was with harry."

"him? again? not after tonight you're not. i forbid you to see him again" luke tells me.

"why not? he hasn't got any family or friends, he needs me!"

"so do i! you're MY boyfriend! you do NOT want to see what happens if i catch you even THINKING about him! now you're not visiting him anymore, end of discussion!" he yells, and the conversation ends there, i cower in fear.

it is silent for a moment before i strike up another conversation.

"well, you said date night, so where are we going?"

"um? nowhere?" he says, making me upset.

"why not? we haven't been out in so long!" i exclaim.

"you ever think there's a reason for that?" he eyes me up and down.

"oh. ok. goodnight luke." i say, disappointment clear in my voice.

"i love you," i finish.

and i never get a reply.

/////////////////
harry.
i end up sitting for longer than anticipated. i start to worry and worry never ends up well with me.

but once i'm in the room, that is when the real problems begin.

"hello, mr. styles. sorry for the wait. "

"what wait?"

"mr. styles? we are thirty minutes behind schedule, so you had to sit longer than expected. i am sorry."

"wait.... what?"

"mr. styles-"

"sorry, who are you?"

"....what?"

"who are you? where's nurse teasdale?"

"harry? hey, it's me! doctor malik? remember? do you recall that one time you flipped me off because i told you that your bandanas are causing loss of blood flow to your brain and that's why you don't understand me? or the time i told you that your hair is bigger than tracy turnblad's and you walked out of the room?"

i think for a minute.
two minutes.
maybe ten.

"oh! yeah that's right! the annoying doctor that annoys the shi-"

i hear a sigh of relief come from him.

"oh thank goodness. i thought you truly forgot me."

"how could i forget such a terrible doctor?"

he laughs.

"but seriously harry, that can't happen again. i think we need to get you on some aricept it'll help with the memory loss, if it works. it's used for alzheimer's disease, but i think it will help."

"ok, i don't care, just give me the damn prescription and i'll be on my way."

he laughs again, his left hand on his stomach as he does so.

"well at least you didn't forget your amazing personality."

"see you tomorrow, zayn."

and i walk out the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

it has been
a month.

a month filled with
roses and
lillies and
carnations and
irises.

and i don't know where
louis is.

it is january
thirtieth.

and i can't find louis.

he has not been at the
clinic in
nine days.

i text him and he says
he is fine.

and the conversation
ends there.

i decide to text him
again,
while i wait for
my name to be called.

to: bouquet boy xx
hi lou! it's me, harry. i know i am probably bothering you, but i can't help but wonder if you are okay? you haven't been at the clinic, and i miss you. please be ok. h.

from: bouquet boy xx
hi harry. louis is busy at the moment, and can't talk to you. i assure you, he is just fine. you don't need to text him. -luke.

to: bouquet boy xx
oh, ok. thank you for letting me know, luke. i won't text him anymore.

i put my phone down.
it suddenly feels ...
heavy.

who is luke?
i've never heard that
name at the clinic before.

....oh.

"harry styles?"

i stand up from my chair
and for the ninth day in
a row,

i do not carry a new
bouquet of beautiful
supermarket flowers
along with me.

//////////////////////////////
weeks later.
i do not see louis again
today.

or the day after that.

or the day after that.

i still worry about louis.

but i don't want to text him, he said he was busy.

luke said he was busy.

but i still worry.

so i ask the check in desk,
that i don't check into anymore,
why louis is not here.

"louis tomlinson, you said?"

"yes ma'am, he used to have daily appointments, but they all of a sudden stopped. my i ask why?"

she shuffles through some files until she reaches

TOMLINSON, LOUIS WILLIAM.

she looks through it.

"it seems he hasn't had an actual appointment scheduled in a few months, hun."

i furrow my eyebrows.

"what do you mean? he was here everyday?"

"i'm sorry, his last appointment was december seventh."

"okay, thank you."

i walk away from the desk, and back to my chair.

if he didn't have appointments, why did he come everyday?

i cannot seem to muster up a logical reason.

i cannot blame him for not coming, because he never should've in the first place.

"harry styles?"

and i walk back into the oh so familiar beige room.

/////////////////

"so harry, we've got the results back from your recent tests!" miss teasdale tells me.

"yeah, ok. what's the new diagnosis?"

"harry, this condition is rare in people so young. it's very dangerous to have and it's the cause of your seizures and memory loss."

"i know. but what's the NAME?"

"harry, you have creutzfeldt-jakob disease. and you're not gonna last long."

it's silent for a moment.

"how long do i have?"

she tells me. i have no emotion anymore. i haven't in a while. not when i am without a home.

"can i put in a request?"

"of course harry, anything."

"can you make a call for me?"

//////////////////

louis.

"hello, louis tomlinson speaking!"

"yes, hello louis. this is niall horan, the front desk at cheshire medical center."

"oh?"

"yes. it has been a request of one of our patients that you come visit as soon as possible, it's a health emergency."

harry.

what happened?

"ok. i'll be there soon." and i hang up the phone.

"luke, i have to go see harry!"

"no you don't! i won't allow it!"

"he needs me luke! he needs help! it's bad enough you won't let me see him!"

"harry's just some dumb, sick good for nothing that wants to waste your time!"

"why would you even think that?"

"cause all harry's done is take you away from me! you're MY boyfriend, remember?"

"yes luke! but sometimes you make it so hard to be your boyfriend!"

"the kid's in love with you! i've seen the texts!"

"at least SOMEONE loves me!"

"what are you saying?"

"i'm saying that harry doesn't waste my time, luke."

i grab my keys and my wallet off the countertop of our small apartment, and start out the door.

"you do."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
i go to the supermarket in my sweats and tear stained cheeks.

i miss him, i miss him so much.

he has to be okay.

screw luke, i never loved him.

harry is the one i love

harry is home.

as i grab the bouquet of daffodils, i pick up a pen and a card as well.

i need to apologize somehow.

i pay for my items and head back to my car and write my apology note.

"to harry, my love- " i start

and once i finish, i drive the old route to the medical center, knowing the beautiful curly haired boy would be sitting in his red, torn chair.

/////////////////
harry.
i sit in a familiar chair.
it's a familiar color.
it's a familiar sight.

but i can't remember it.

i see a bleach blonde nurse, standing next to a tanned chiseled doctor.

but i can't remember their names.

i scuff my boot clad feet across the green carpeting underneath them.

but i can't remember it.

and i hear a  familiar name being called...

but i can't identify it.

(((((((((((((((((((((((((

i haven't seen my boy in months, thanks to luke.

all he ever did for me was tell me what i was doing wrong with my life.

and he thought harry was wrong.

but i though luke was.

i park in my spot, next to harry's red car.

i grab my belongings, along with the bouquet and card.

i walk into the building and i see him,

but he is not in his red torn chair.

he is in the one right next to it.

my seat.

he is scuffing his boots, and playing with his rings.

his name is being called, but he is not standing.

"harry?" i call

but he does not respond.

i immediately drop the bouquet and card and rush over to him.

"harry? harry? what's wrong? haz-"

"dude!"

he stops me.

"harry?" i ask, the doctors next to me now.

"it's me, remember? the one you love? the one i love?" am crying now.

he has to remember me. he has to.

"i'm sorry," he starts, "but,
who are you?"

(((((((((((((((((((((((
harry.
there is a man in front of me
down on his knees, sobbing
into his hands.

what did i say?

"sir?" i hear a woman say.

"yes?"

"can you tell me your name?"

i think, hard.
i think for a
minute.
maybe
two.

"no. i can't."

and everyone starts to panic.
the man is
crying more now.

and as everyone is in
said panic, i look around
the room and see a
bouquet by the door.

a beautiful bouquet of
flowers i forget the
name of.

i continue to stare at the
bouquet of
supermarket flowers

for many
minutes.

and i remember.

i remember the daily
visits from a man of whom
i loved, but had never loved
me back.

bouquets from a man whom i
sold my soul to,
but he could not do the same.

a man who once
made this empty place
feel like home.

but i can't remember him.
i simply cannot.

but the one thing i do remember is that,

if i can't remember him,
i don't want to remember anything
at all.

end.