Chapter Text
WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 5th
“Good morning, and welcome back, everyone. I hope you all had a good winter break. If we could all please quiet down for a second, I have some- um, I have some upsetting news to share, unfortunately.” Louis looks up from where he is doodling a blob-looking thing on his notebook to his teacher.
Mrs. Welshmen, who teaches the seniors English, is standing at the front of the classroom with her arms wrapped around her slightly rounded frame. Her face, a usually golden color, is as white as a sheet of paper.
Louis starts to frown, not liking the uneasy feeling settling in his stomach as he stares at his teacher. Louis can’t help his mind as it starts running all over the place with what thing could have possibly been bad enough that it has Mrs. Welshmen so visibly upset. Has she fallen ill? Has someone in her family passed? He doesn’t think she would be at school if that were the case.
She has been his favorite teacher this year. She is always extremely kind to him and never gets upset with the struggling students either, always taking the time to help them in whatever way she can. Very patient with him, too, since English has never been his best subject.
God, he hopes that isn’t the case.
“Thank you, class. So, unfortunately, one of your classmates, Harry Styles, is no longer with us. He committed suicide over the break,” she starts. Her mouth is moving, but Louis isn’t hearing anything. His hearing is now blocked by the white noise and ringing, leaving him stuck staring at her in utter disbelief. A knot has fully formed in his belly by now.
No. No freaking way. He can’t believe it.
The knot in his stomach slowly traveled up his throat, leaving him an empty feeling. The empty feeling suddenly switches to nausea, making him feel like he’s going to throw up at any given second.
He continues to stare, wide-eyed, at his teacher, taking her in to look for any signs that she’s joking. Maybe even an April Fool joke. It might be a little early for an April Fool’s joke; also a little fucked up, he thinks, but still.
She’s in her usual knee-length pencil skirt, dark grey today, and tucked-in white blouse. Her blonde hair is tied in a low slick-back bun. Nothing is different there. It’s her eyes that give away that what she had just said was not a joke, though. The blues in her eyes, accentuated by the red that’s rimming them, are tears leaking gently down her cheeks.
“Do you know if the family will do a funeral?” Louis zones back in as the girl at the front- Bella Cane- asks. He looks at her, taking in her dark brown eyes full of unshed tears, and can’t help but feel a little annoyed. He doesn’t think he’s ever even seen her speak to Harry. He feels the urge to roll his eye, but he suppresses it at the last second. Barely.
He turns back to Mrs. Welshmen, waiting for the answer.
“Yes, they will. His parents have told the school that they will be doing the funeral today at St. Mary’s at 4 p.m. I strongly encourage you all to go, at least for a little bit, to give your condolences to his family. I honestly could not imagine the pain they are experiencing,” she answers with a shaky exhale.
Louis turns around at the sounds coming from the back of the classroom. A mix of sniffles and whispering.
He takes in the six kids in the back, who are usually very noisy, and sees that it’s coming from them. Two of them are crying, while a few are whispering. The rest, he now notices, are even giggling. His irritation has now returned full force.
The two girls- Cara Lee and Venus Reed- are the ones crying, he realizes, as he sees them rubbing under their eyes with tissues. The one whispering is a boy named Noah Carter. Of course, it’s him, he muses. His face is completely blank, almost void of any emotions, as he talks to the other guys next to him.
Louis has never really liked Noah.
He’s pretty known for being a complete ass to everyone and anyone. Not the type of person Louis likes to hang around.
Now that Louis thinks about it, he’s pretty sure Noah used to bully Harry quite a bit back in their freshman year.
Yeah, he did, he thinks as he starts remembering. He remembers the rumors that Harry was gay going around the school, and Louis’ pretty sure Noah initiated them. He also remembers overhearing Noah, one time, telling people that Harry tried to force himself onto him, and that’s how he knew Harry was for sure gay. Soon after those rumors started, he began calling Harry slurs any chance he got. He would always pick on him in the hallways and talk shit.
The next thing he knew, all of Harry’s old friends stopped hanging around him.
Louis goes to turn back around when he hears Noah whisper to one of his friends, “I thought that freak killed himself a long time ago. Glad he finally went through with it. Now we don’t have to see his fag face anymore.” The guys around him laugh noisily, while Bella and Venus send them dirty looks.
Mrs. Welshmen clears her throat harshly. “This is not something to be joking about, Noah. That is also not something to say about someone who is no longer here. You are being very insensitive and disrespectful,” she starts off sounding borderline pissed with her teeth gnashing together. Probably to keep her composure, honestly. “I cannot even imagine the things that poor boy was going through to feel like his only option left was suicide,” she continues, sadness taking over her features once more. “If any one of you feels like this, please feel free to come to me during my office hours. I am always available for a chat. It is important to talk about your feelings, and it is imperative to ask for help when you need it.”
Louis is still feeling ill at ease, and it only gets worse when a heavy layer of tension settles over the class after Mrs. Welshmen’s mini-speech.
He is about to ask to go to the restroom when the bell rings for the end of class. He can’t help but feel the relief of not having to endure the tense environment any longer. He lets out a long breath.
As Louis is rushing to pack up his things to get the hell out of there, he hears Noah mumble to his friends. “I fucking bet no one, no one sane, I mean, will go to that dumb ass funeral. He had no friends, and his parents probably fucking knew it. I’m sure that’s why they told the school. So maybe at least one person would go there for that freak,” he snickers out.
Louis storms out with his heart in his throat, strangely feeling choked up.
He doesn’t even know why he’s so affected by Harry’s death. Or why he’s so bothered listening to Noah spew his usual load of offensive homophobic bullshit. Especially since it’s about Harry. He knows if Noah is talking, it's always bullshit. And also, Harry had always been the topic of Noah’s bullshit for as long as he can remember.
But the thing is, aside from knowing he went to the same school as him since kindergarten, Louis barely knew Harry. The only things that he really knew of Harry were things he found out in passing.
He knew that Harry was (maybe?) gay. He knew that Harry was sort of a loner; he liked to be by himself. However, Louis isn’t sure if that has more to do with the other people than Harry. To go along with that, he knew that Harry didn’t have many friends. If any.
Louis pauses as he tries to think if he’s seen Harry sit with anyone at lunch or even talk to anyone ever while at school. He can’t remember, which can’t be good. He’s pretty sure that means that he didn’t speak to anyone and that he didn’t have friends.
He feels an arm drop on his shoulder, forcing him out of his thoughts, and he jumps. He turns and sees one of his childhood best friends, Zayn, smiling at him slightly.
“You alright there, Lou? You seem a little jumpy,” Zayn says as he starts to drag Louis to their next class. “And you were also stopped in the middle of the hallway, staring at nothing. Everything okay?”
“Hmm? Oh yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Did you hear about Harry Styles? Shit’s kind of crazy, huh? I honestly can’t believe it,” he responds with his eyebrows pinched together in the middle. He turns to gauge Zayn’s reaction.
He slides his arm off Louis’ shoulder and lets out a big breath. He runs a hand through his hair and pulls at the roots a little, a clear sign that he’s feeling distressed. “Hm, yeah, I did. That was some depressing news. I feel terrible for his family, honestly. I can’t even imagine what they’re going throu-”
“Are you guys talking about Harry? Yeah, just now, in first, they were talking about it too,” Niall, Louis’ other friend from childhood, interrupts, popping up out of nowhere, pointing his thumb behind him. “Crazy that this is the most I’ve heard his name since freshman year. Intense stuff. I remember whenever my granny died, I could barely function for months. Lou, you remember? You were there. I was a real mess for a while. Like some kind of zombie, honestly. So, yep. I agree with you there, Z, about his family.”
They both turn to look at Niall, who's smiling widely. “Um, Ni? If you just heard about Harry, then why are you so smiley?” Zayn asks, brows furrowing, while Louis keeps padding.
“Well, with the risk of sounding like a dick, there isn’t much we can do now, is there?” Niall shrugs. “Are you guys going to his funeral tonight? I wish I could, but Greg just came into town, and the next time I probably will see him is for summer break” he says with a frown tugging at his lips. “I just ran into Liam right now too and asked him. He said that he isn’t either because he thought it would be too weird? Like not being friends with him before, but then going to his funeral. I dunno,” he finishes as he waves his hand in the air.
They all walk into their next class, Calculus, and sit down. Louis looks to the front and sees that Mr. Platt, their teacher, hasn’t arrived yet. He continues to stare at the board while his friends are talking, his mind completely blank.
“I don’t think that I will go either. I agree with Liam. I wasn’t friends with Harry, so I don’t think it makes sense for me to go? I don’t know. It just feels like it’s not right. I also have a huge art project already that I should have probably started, like last week. What about you, Lou?” Zayn asks and touches Louis’ arm, bringing him back once again.
“Er- I haven’t thought about it. I don’t know,” answering shortly, sending Zayn a glance.
“Are you sure you’re okay, Lou?” Zayn questions lowly, concern littering his features.
Louis softly nods his head right as Mr. Platt comes flying into the room.
~**~
Louis inserts the key to his front door and pushes it open gently. He slips his shoes off, places them next to the door, and heads to the kitchen.
Louis stops in his tracks as he takes the scene in front of him in. Louis’ mother, Jay, stands by the floating island in the middle of the kitchen, grabbing the kettle from the stove. His mother typically works way late in the night so, Louis tends to be alone more than not. So. If that doesn’t prove how weird today is, he doesn’t know what will.
“Hey, Lou. Are you just getting in? You want me to pour you a cup?”
“Umm, sure. Thanks. How come you’re here already? Slow workday?” Louis questions as he slides next to his mom to reach into the cabinet, under the stove, and grabs the sage green mug. His favorite mug. He sets it down on the countertop, next to his mom’s cup.
He looks at her at the same time she says, “Yeah, it was pretty slow today at the firm. Mark decided to take the few cases we got. Y’know how he is,” waving her hand in the air. “I made Chamomile, that good with you?” she asks as she blinks at him, tiredly, in question.
Mark and his mother have been together since he was two. His real father left them when he found out about Louis. They were very young, still, in their sophomore year in college, when they got pregnant. Mark met her when she was in her last year of college, and Mark had just finished his. Three years later, Louis’ mom got pregnant again and had Louis’ other sibling, Charlotte or Lottie, as he calls her. After his mom finished law school, they married and started their law firm a little later. Louis shakes his head to clear his thoughts as he sees his mom raise her left eyebrow. “Mhm. That works for me. Thanks. I guess that means Mark won’t be here until later tonight?” He asks and inwardly sighs when he sees her nod her head.
She picks up the sugar, then places it back down as if she remembers he doesn’t like sugar in his tea. “It looks like it, yeah. Did you need to talk to him or something?” Louis grabs the milk from the fridge and places it next to his mug.
“Have you heard about what happened with Harry Styles yet?” he asks as he gnaws on his bottom lip, completely ignoring her question. She shakes her head and starts to pour the milk. He takes that as his cue to continue, “Yeah. He, um. He killed himself over the winter break.”
His mom puts down the milk and stares at him. “H-what? That’s horrible. Wow.” Her brows furrowed together in thought. “I don’t know this ‘Harry Styles,’ though. Who is he? A friend of yours?”
Louis grabs the milk from where she placed it on the counter to finish making his tea. “Yes. Well, I mean, no. Not a friend of mine. Not really. We went to school together since grade school, though. I see him at school all the time. Or well, I used to anyway,” He adds the last part woefully, his eyebrows raising a little.
She nods her head in understanding, but a pained look stays on her face. “Will his family be having a funeral?” He runs his middle finger on the rim of his mug, letting it cool down but also doing it to avoid her eyes.
He nods.
“Okay. And are you bringing it up because you would like to go to it?” Jay asks with a knowing look in her eyes.
Louis raises and drops his shoulders as he continues to stare into the mug. He lets out a hum in acknowledgment.
“Yeah, I think so. I’ve been thinking about it all day at school, and yeah. I would like to go. Would that be okay? I’ll be home before Mark. Promise,” he says and finally looks up at her. “I just think he would want a familiar face there. I don’t know. It seems stupid now that I said it aloud. Forget it.” He tries to calm down the burning in his cheeks by taking three big gulps of his tea.
It burns his throat going down.
“No, no. It’s okay, boo. You can go, and I won’t tell Mark. You have to be home by 7:00: the latest 7:30, Louis. I’m serious. Mark will be here by 8, and you know he doesn’t like you being out. Especially on school nights. What time is it for?” she asks him, then blows on her tea.
Louis walks around the island to the sink and dumps the rest of his tea down the drain. He clears his throat and says, “It’s for 4? So, uh, I should leave soon. Think I might just take a cab there since it’s at St. Mary’s. You know how I don’t like to drive to the city, especially in this kind of weather.” They both turn to look through the big window behind them and see medium-sized snowflakes falling and blending together outside the window.
“Okay, Louis, that’s fine with me. Just be careful. Are any of the boys going with you?” she asks as she walks over to the sink as well.
“No. Just me. Zayn has some project to do, Liam said he would feel weird going, and Niall’s brother is in town. Y’know, Niall barely sees Greg, so he’s out too,” Louis answers honestly. His mom grabs both of their mugs and opens the dishwasher.
She nods her head and asks, “Would you like me to come with you? I’m off for the rest of the day.” Louis scrunches up his face and shakes his head, “No, it’s okay. Seriously, mom. I think I’ll be okay on my own in the city for a bit. I won’t stay out long.” He kisses her on the cheek and heads for the stairs.
As Louis reaches the fourth step, he hears his mom call his name. He turns around, sees her close the dishwasher with her hip, start it, and then look over at him. “I think what you’re doing, going to that boy’s funeral, is very sweet. I’m sure his family will appreciate it, boo.” He sends her a small smile and goes to his room to change.
He quickly calls a cab and checks his phone. 3:19, it reads. He has only ten minutes to get ready for him not to show up late.
As soon as he walks into his room, he immediately goes to his dresser to pick out his black skinnies. He walks over to his closet and grabs the black trench coat and black button-up from their hangers. He throws them on the bed next to his pants and remembers his vans are by the front door. Since he needs to leave sooner rather than later, he opts out of taking a shower. He quickly gets changed and checks if he smells decent enough to be in public. He does but decides to put on some deodorant anyway.
He rushes into his en suite to fix his hair and his phone beeps, letting him know the cab is outside. He wets his hands and runs them through his hair swiftly. He gives his hands a little shake through the front to make his hair appear fluffy and swipes his fringe to the side. He pats down the back and tucks the hair on the side of his head behind his ears gently. He double-checks to make sure no pieces are sticking up. When he’s finally satisfied, he turns off the light and walks back into his room.
He grabs his phone, house keys, and wallet and tucks them into his coat. After making sure he has everything, he turns off his light and closes his door. When he passes the living room, where the TV is playing, he throws a quick, “Bye, mom!” to let his mom know he’s leaving. He slips his shoes on and heads out the door.
~**~
Almost twenty minutes later, he pulls up to the church. He takes a deep breath then pays the cabbie. As Louis steps out of the car, the cold slaps his face, causing tears in his eyes. The knot from earlier has returned in his throat.
He checks the time—3:47 p.m.
Good. He didn’t want to be late.
With a shaky exhale, and some encouraging words, he heads into the church. The door creaks as it opens, causing him to tense and everyone to turn to him. He sends them a quick smile and walks towards them.
The first thing that he notices is that there is barely anyone from school there. Only a few teachers, but other than that, the rest of the people, Louis assumes, are Harry’s family.
While walking up, his eyes sweep over the small old church. A pair of ten-ish pews going down the middle, two pews connected in each row to the front. The brown in them shows that they are a little dusty, and the two art-stained glasses behind the casket look like it could use a cleaning or two. It’s lightly dimmed, and there’s a large picture of Harry displayed on a metal easel at the front. As he gets closer, he realizes it’s an open casket funeral.
Wow. That’s an actual dead body. Okay, he thinks, a slight tremor working its way through his body.
As he reaches them, they are all staring at him with a mixture of confusion and hope on their face. “Umm. Hello, I’m Louis. Er, Louis Tomlinson? I went to school with Harry.” He points towards the casket, then instantly drops his hand as a light blush works its way to his cheeks. He closes his eyes for a second, in embarrassment, thinking that might have come across as insensitive, and tries to collect himself.
He opens his eyes and makes eye contact with the beautiful woman, around his mother’s age, who’s walking up to him. Her long brown hair is being held back with a small clip, and her piercing green eyes, similar to Harry’s, he realizes, are bloodshot.
She must be Harry’s mother.
A younger woman sends him a smile from where she is sitting at the first pew. It comes out more like a grimace, but he appreciates it nevertheless. Her light brown hair is in a loose ponytail behind her, and her eyes are also a striking green. He shoots her a small smile back. “Hello, Louis. I’m Anne. Harry’s mother. And that’s Gemma, Harry’s older sister,” the older lady says, pointing to herself than to the younger woman.
Harry’s mother sends him a kind smile. As if he’s the one who needs comfort.
“Did you say “Tomlinson”? As in the super-rich, hot-shot lawyers, Tomlinson?” the younger girl, Gemma, questions. Louis gives her a slight nod with a tight smile. “Wow. I didn’t know Harry was friends with someone so rich,” Gemma mutters, which earns her a sharp look from Anne.
Louis shrugs his shoulders, his cheeks burning, not liking the attention or the talk about his parents.
His stomach plummets as he hears Anne ask him, “So, were you? A friend of his? He didn’t bring many friends over or talk to me much, so my apologies for not recognizing you at first.”
“Yes. Well, n-not really close friends, but we would talk from time to time at school. He was always super kind to me,” Louis lies as he rocks back and forth a little on his heels, feeling uneasy. Anne smiles at that, and it makes him feel guilty for lying.
An ample man with glasses comes up next to Anne and wraps his arm around her waist. “Anne, darling, it’s starting. Oh. Hello, I’m Robin. Harry’s stepdad,” he says as he extends his arm, the one not wrapped around Anne, to Louis.
“This is Louis, Louis Tomlinson. He said he knew Harry. That they were friendly,” Gemma cuts Louis before he can answer, with a dazed look on her face. Robin’s eyebrows go up a little at his last name. Louis, feeling sheepish, just shakes Robin’s hand and nods in confirmation. “Oh, well, that’s great to hear Harry had a friend at school. Thank you for being there for our boy when we couldn’t. The service is starting, so please, feel free to sit anywhere. Thank you for coming.” Robin takes Anne away to sit, and Gemma turns back to the front.
Louis lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.
He makes his way to a pew in the back. He looks towards the doors, right before he sits, and notices a pale, almost see-through-like, skinny man. He’s leaning next to the entrance doors with one foot flat on the wall behind him. He’s dressed head to toe in all black, with his boney knee showing on the bent leg through the hole in his jeans. His skinny arms, which are crossed over his chest, are covered by a worn-out leather jacket. The man gives off the same eerie vibe as the Grim Reaper, Louis deems. Probably the reason why he leaves Louis with a jittery feeling running through his blood.
Or maybe, it’s the fact that he’s staring straight at him.
Louis looks away quickly and turns to the head of the church.
Louis tries to ignore the man for the first half of the service, but he can feel his eyes burning holes in the back of his head. Reaching an extreme level of uncomfortableness, Louis tries to be as subtle as possible as he grabs his phone and presses it to his ear, pretending to get a call. He steps out of the pew and out of the church in the middle of their History teacher, Mr. Howard’s speech.
He glances behind him and locks eyes with the man right before the door closes.
Louis takes a deep breath, smoke emitting from his mouth, and places his phone back in his pocket. He rubs his hands together and blows on them, trying to heat them since he forgot his gloves. He turns around and smacks right into something hard. He rubs his nose in pain and goes to apologize to the person when his hand freezes on his face.
His hand drops, and he looks back toward the church, then again in front of him. “What. The. Fuck.” he mumbles. “Er-Can I help you?” Louis asks louder, knitting his brows together.
The man smiles and pulls out a cigarette. “Actually, yes, you can,” he says but doesn’t elaborate further.
“Well, are you going to tell me what it is you need? Because I don’t have all day to stand here and talk to strangers,” he replies roughly, sliding his hands into his coat pocket, already grumpy because he’s cold.
The man leans on the brick wall for the building beside the church and lights his cigarette. He takes a drag from the fag, painstakingly slow. “You have all the time in the world. At least right now, you do. But, ehhh, details. We aren’t there yet. I have a proposition for you,” he begins. “Something that I know you won’t be able to say no to once you hear it.” Louis scoffs and rolls his eyes.
“I have never met you before in my life. So how would you know that? Please. I have to get going. Have a good rest of your night,” Louis says and starts walking away.
“You sure you don’t want to hear me out first? I promise to make it worth your while,” the man says as he grabs a second cigarette out and lights it. He smirks the same time he blows out the smoke, noticing Louis has stopped walking and turned to face him again.
Louis stares at him with a frown and a slight pinch in his brows. He can’t help but be curious about who the guy is and what he wants from him. He is honestly probably some loon that’s just on drugs. Also, there is nothing he could say that will be even remotely interest-
“Allow me to answer those questions that are floating around in that head of yours. Also, a loon? Really? Kinda offensive there, Louis.” Louis opens his mouth, but the man just puts his hand up to his lips in a shushing motion, promptly shutting him up. “My name,” he says as he points the fag towards himself then flicks it, “is Demise. There are several names that people like to call me, though. Actually, you said one of them earlier. The Grim Reaper. ARGH. It makes me sound so much scarier than I am, and, ugh, I love that. It’s one of my favorite names because of that very reason. Honest. Anyway, yes. You, though, are only allowed to call me Demise,” he punctuates it by poking Louis in the chest with his pointer finger.
“W-what? Firstly, Demise? That isn’t even a real name. Do you genuinely expect me to believe that Demise is your real name? That your name literally means “death”? Actually, no. That isn’t my first question. How do you know my name? Why did you say people have different names for you? Who are you, and what do you want from me?” Louis sputters out. Demise chuckles briefly and takes out a third cigarette. Louis doesn’t even know when he finished the second one.
“Look, Louis, I don’t have a lot of time. Mainly because you stayed way longer than I thought you would at the funeral,” mumbling the last bit while he drops his freshly lit cigarette and steps on it frustratedly. “But, how would you like to make a deal with the devil? Promise not to con you. Well, not too much,” he adds slyly, tilting his head slightly with a smirk.
Louis stares at him for a few seconds. His small pitch-black eyes meet Louis’ bright sapphire ones. His eyes hold a blank, dead look within them, but they are exuding something that makes him feel like he can trust him. He nods his head to let him know he’s listening. Demise grins and starts walking, “C’mon. Let’s go for a little stroll.”
“Ya know, physical activities? Not really my thing,” Louis starts but then has to briskly walk to catch up with Demise, who is already ten steps ahead. “Also, how am I supposed to know if you’re really leading me to a dark alley where you’ll kill me? You haven’t been anything other than sketchy, which I would usually consider a big red flag, keep in mind,” Louis huffs out.
“Yeah, yeah. You know, I knew you were going to be perfect for this job, Louis.”
“Oh, yeah? You see, I actually can’t agree with you because you have yet to tell me what “this job” even is. So. Whenever you’re ready,” he grumbles. He slams into Demise for a second time that night and goes to rub his nose again. “Ow. Again? Seriously, dude, why are you stopping now? W-what? What’s wrong?”
“No, nothing’s wrong,” he says as he looks around.
“Well, just to put it out there, you nervous is making me nervous,” Louis says as he takes the distress on Demise’s face in. Demise turns around, and Louis raises his eyebrows at him.
“No, I mean it. Nothing’s wrong. I’m just looking for some- Aha! There it is,” he says as he looks at the white brick building called Violet's Bakery. Louis looks at it and sees nothing out ordinary. Then, he looks around and sees a floral shop, a grocery store, and some clothing stores also on the somewhat dim street. Still not seeing anything that could clue him in on what the man was looking for. He raises his eyebrows for what feels like the millionth time and goes to ask him what it was he was looking for. “Shh. Don’t worry about it. Anyway. The deal. Yes, of course. Ahem. How would you like the opportunity to save Harry Styles? Hmm?” he asks as he leans on the wall of the bakery and opens his pack again. He takes out another cigarette, lights it, and even offers one to Louis.
Louis shakes his head and puts his hand up to block the offer, already feeling light-headed enough. “I don’t understand. Save Harry? I’m not trying to be an insensitive prick, but I was literally just at his funeral. It was an open casket, and I don’t know ’bout you, but I don’t need any more proof of someone’s death than that.” Demise lets out a breathy laugh at that.
“Listen, I am offering you the chance to go twenty-eight days back in time to stop Harry from killing himself. If you are willing to do this, I want you to know that this won’t be easy. There will be multiple things that you’ll find out that you won’t like, and there will also be people who will not like that you are doing this. Hopefully, you will never have to encounter them, but let’s be realistic. This will be the most laborious thing you will possibly ever do in your life. If you choose to do it, of course. It is ultimately your decision, though I feel like I already know your answer. Just think. You will be the reason his family gets him back,” his expression completely serious, no traces of the laugh from seconds before.
Louis’ mind is at a complete cross on what to do. Of course, he would love to bring back Harry, but is he the right person for this job? He can be a little hot-headed from time to time. He isn’t exceptionally patient with most people. What if he does something that makes things worse than they are now? He should really just leave things the way they are now. They aren’t great, yeah, but his family is already grieving. He doesn’t think he could sit through another funeral if he fails. Oh god. What if he fails? Out of everyone, why is he the one being given this proposition? He needs to say no. This is absolutely crazy. He should just leave Harry’s soul to rest in peace. Yeah. He has to say no because this is complete nonsense.
But what comes out instead is, “Why me?”
Demise smirks briefly, then his serious expression is back on. “C’mon Louis. You were at the funeral. You were the only one there at his funeral that wasn’t either his teacher or his family. I know you noticed it. You were connected to him. Cared about him even. That’s the reason why. You were wondering why it was affecting you so much earlier today. This is why you felt his death so deeply, so intensely. This, here, is your answer.”
Demise takes one last drag from the fag, then drops it on the floor and crushes it with the heel of his boot.
Louis is trying to find a reason not to do it, and he is coming up empty-handed. He should let Harry’s soul rest as he thought, but if there’s a chance to bring him back? Why wouldn’t he do it? He’s the person who’s connected to Harry, for whatever reason, which leaves only him to this job. But what if he fails? What happens then? “Why only 28 days? Why not 30 or something?” he questions, getting more and more convinced.
“It took 28 days for Harry Styles to consider, plan, and go through with his suicide. You are going to go back to the first day he started to think about it, and within those 28 days, you will change his mind.” Demise responds with both his palms facing the sky as he moves them apart casually.
Nothing he’s saying is casual.
“And if I don’t?” he finally voices the question that’s been plaguing him since he started considering this. His palms are super sweaty, despite the freezing temperature, and he gnaws on his bottom lip while his anxiety eats away at him.
“Well, Louis Tomlinson, let’s hope we don’t have to find that out. Okay?” he says with a quick smile, but his eyes are already glazed over with a faraway look.
“What will happen during these days? Will you tell me the reason he started considering suicide?” Demise turns his head to Louis and frowns, genuinely looking bothered.
“I can’t tell you that, unfortunately. I’m sorry. You need to figure that out on your own. The thing I can tell you, though, is that you need to keep an open mind going into this. Because let me tell you, those 28 days,” Demise says with a smirk playing on his lips, kicking off the wall. “Will be life-changing. I can promise you that.”
Louis nods and turns to tell him that he will do it when he notices Demise has already started walking away. “Wait! Where are you going? I haven’t even said yes or no yet.” Demise stops but only turns his head, “No, you didn’t. Not aloud, at least, but I heard you. I’ll be around if you need anything. Bye, Louis Tomlinson.” He turns back around and waves his finger in a wave.
He turns the corner, and then he’s gone.