Had an itch to write on Let Me Heal The Wounds tonight.... haven’t touched this fic in over two years.
Someone needs to fix this train wreck. I still love it and can’t ever give it up but also feel like I could never finish it.
Anyway...here’s a snip if anyone cares...
TW: Jay’s death in past-tense
“It’s...it’s been a long time, H.”
“Then it’s about time to see them all again, no? And I’ll be there with you the whole time, however you need me. I’m with you,” Harry said. He had been encouraging Louis every step of the way this morning.
Louis couldn’t pinpoint the exact feeling he had about going back to Doncaster. Dread seemed like too big of a word, but he couldn’t help but feel like that was the closest he could come. For him, Doncaster wasn’t home anymore. It was the place where his biological father father left him. The place his family left him for. The place where his mom died. The place his family was, and still is, torn apart from each other. He loved Doncaster for so many things, but it wasn’t the same anymore. He, more often than not, wished he could just kind of never have to go back there.
“You’re not wrong, H. But we need to make a stop before we go to their house, though.”
“And just where is it that you’re taking me, Tomlinson?” Harry asked with a hint of knowing in his voice.
Louis couldn’t help but be nervous. Harry was holding a giant bouquet of sunflowers across his lap. Louis might have helped Harry win brownie points on that. If there is one thing Louis knew about the women he called sisters, it was that they all loved sunflowers. He never really asked them though if they all liked them on their own or if it was more a nod to their mother, since they were also hers.
“I’m taking you to meet my mom. I haven’t had the chance to actually talk to her in years. I want to change that today. It’s only fair that you meet her since now I’ve met yours,” Louis said, turning down a gravel road that didn’t look like much of a road at all.
Harry reached over and planted his hand firmly on Louis’s thigh, and squeezed. He stayed silent, feeding off of Louis’s energy. He was grateful he didn’t need to explain more. People who’ve never lost a parent never seem to understand the unbearable heartache that never leaves. They give you too many sad smiles, they keep a distance, they ask too many questions that just keep the wound open and active.
But people who, like Harry, have also lost a part of themselves, they understand that grief never really goes away. There is an understanding that the tidal waves of loss and sadness and anger and longing still come, just as big and devastating as the first time they crashed into you. They also understand that time, while it never heals, definitely helps keep the waves at bay little longer each time they go. They let it be, they wait patiently, they understand when to just reach over and hold on tight because no words will ever make it better.
“On one of her best days towards the end, we went for a drive, just me and her. We laughed and gave each other shit about some of our more questionable life choices. He made fun of me for trying to convincer her my first girlfriend was going to be my wife. I gave her a bit of shit about some of the men she dated. She picked the soundtrack for the trip and it was all oldies or songs from my childhood that we used to dance to in our pajamas on Saturday mornings. Somewhere along the open road with the windows down, while I was driving, I forgot. Harry, I forgot my mom was dying. I didn’t even realize that would probably be my last time alone with her. I wasn’t worried about her blood counts or immune system for the first time in months. We just laughed and laughed as I drove, following her directions of which way to turn and when. Mom simply told me what to do and I obeyed without question, much like the rest of my life where she was concerned. She wouldn’t tell me where we were going, but had me drive directly to here. I still don’t really know how she found this place.”
The road essentially ended at the edge of a small field, surrounded by huge, old weeping willow trees. There was a scattering of headstones of varying shapes, sizes, and distress. Louis turned off the car and reached for the door handle.
“Shall we?” He asked, flashing Harry a small, if not broken sort of smile.
Harry let go and grabbed a lone sunflower from the large bouquet before he set the rest on the dashboard.
Louis reached for Harry’s hand as they began to walk, Louis leading the way. “We didn’t know a single person buried here. But when I pulled up, we got out and Mom took my hand as we walked toward the cemetery.” Louis had to stop his voice from shaking. Aside from a small group of family and friends that had been with Louis on the day of Jay’s funeral, he had never brought anyone else to where they were laid to rest.
“It’s beautiful. Is that weird to say about a cemetery?” Harry said, voice barely above a whisper.
“No. It was my first comment about this place, too,” Louis whispered back. His steps got heavier the closer he got to Jay’s headstone. It had been eleven years since her passing and being here made it feel like yesterday. He let go of Harry’s hand and instead wrapped his arm around Harry’s, almost clutching for support. Harry let him, without so much as a glance down.
Louis suddenly stopped short and gulped for air.
Hi, Mom. I’ve missed you.
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