Chapter Text
Age 16
Louis Tomlinson met Christopher Wells in art class when he was a junior in high school. They were seated next to each other at the beginning of the semester, and in typical Louis fashion, he flicked a thick blob of red paint in Chris’ general direction, covering his fresh piece of white paper.
Chris sighed deeply and turned toward Louis. “Can I help you?” he asked, gaze steady.
Louis smirked. “I don’t know, can you?”
He snorted. “You just fucked up my art project.”
“Looks like you hadn’t done much yet. I think I was helping you out.”
Chris raised a brow. “Hm. I think you might be right. Be right back.”
Louis opened his mouth to question what the hell that meant, but Chris stood up and went to the front of the class. He handed his nearly dripping sheet of paper to the teacher, and Louis strained to listen when Chris said, “I think of this as how my mind feels right now, you know? A little messy, but bright and room for change. Abstract, if you will.” Then, he looked over at Louis and winked. Louis wanted to smack the smug look right off his face.
He didn’t hear what the teacher said next, but he could tell it was high praise based on the way Chris waltzed back to his seat next to Louis, pep in his step, his smile strong. He slid back into his chair and waggled his eyebrows at Louis, whispering, “Guess who’s done for the rest of the period?”
Louis choked back his laugh. “You win,” he admitted, and slammed his hands down on the table in defeat.
Chris pumped his fists in the air in mock victory. “Oh, and by the way,” he said, grin still addictive, “I’m Chris Wells.”
“‘m Louis Tomlinson.”
“Good to meet you. Don’t ever fuck with my stuff again.”
And just like that, Louis was hooked.
Louis and Christopher became inseparable friends after that, spending as much time together in school as they possibly could, and spending even more time together outside of school. They fell into a rhythm, taking turns spending time at Louis’ house when his abundance of sisters weren’t home, and moving to Chris’ when the Tomlinson residence became too crazy. They played basketball in the driveway, video games in the basement, worked out at the gym down the road. Louis, normally resistant to letting new people in, found himself letting his guard down easily for Christopher, and loved how comfortable he felt in his presence. Even friends he’d had in his life forever couldn’t compare to Chris.
After a few months of the same routine - hop in Louis’ Civic, drive to Chris’ house, eat their weight in pizza and other garbage food, and eventually drive himself home, happy and full - Chris met Louis after their last class and bumped their shoulders together. “Lou, I can’t hang out this afternoon.”
Louis paused. “What, got a hot date?”
Chris smirked. “Nothing like that. I’ve just been totally neglecting my other friends.”
He tried to ignore the pit of jealousy stirring in the pit of his stomach. He mostly failed. “Can we hang out all together?”
“I think… That we should all get together on a different day, maybe?” He looked nervous, a bit annoyed, and finished his thought with a shrug.
Louis was unreasonably pissed. “I don’t get it. Do your friends not like me or something?”
“No. Lou. They haven’t even met you, how could they not like you?”
“Exactly my point. Let’s all hang out.”
Chris sighed in frustration. “I haven’t seen my best friend Harry outside of school in weeks , Louis. I fucking miss the kid. I’m hanging out with him today, just me and him, and I’ll catch up with you later. Don’t make me feel bad about it.”
Louis wanted to scream. “Who the fuck is Harry?”
“If you’ve never heard me talk about Harry, you’re clearly a self-centered dick. He’s the freshman who lives next door to me. We’ve grown up together. He’s been my best friend for years.”
He nearly shook with anger; his jealousy threatened to seep out of his ears. “A fucking freshman? Are you kidding me?”
“He’s only a year younger than me, and two younger than you. Relax.”
“I am fucking relaxed.”
Chris snorted. “Seems it.”
When Louis stormed off a minute later, he realized he may have been a bit out of line, and that his reaction was potentially not normal. Not even slightly.
It was around that time that Louis realized he was gay, and that maybe , he was quite possibly very in love with the boy from his art class.
(Even when the same boy made him feel like total shit a week later when Louis met Harry and they got along embarrassingly well. Louis had to force himself to spit out the words, “Okay, I fucking love Harry, are you happy?”)
(Fuck.)
Eight Years Later
Louis was sitting in the darkness of his living room, face illuminated by the glow of the television. He wasn’t watching the program, though. A blanket was draped over the back of the couch behind him, and he reached for it, shivering. Normally, Chris would light a fire in the fireplace. This night, Louis wouldn’t let himself think about that.
From across the street, his neighbor’s home was decorated in tinsel and lights. The snow falling outside was something he would normally welcome. He bit at his bottom lip. He felt sick to his stomach.
Looking around the living room, Louis tried not to focus on the plethora of pictures of him and Chris. He couldn’t muster up the courage to put them away, smash them, ruin them, save them forever, something other than let them sit there, staring at him. He whined, tears building up. God, he was tired of crying. He pulled the blanket up higher, hugging it close to him. If he really tried, it still smelled like his Chris. The tears fell freely, streaking his face. “I am so pissed at you for leaving me,” he said out loud to no one, voice breaking on the last word.
He slumped down further into the couch, hating how cold the Pennsylvania air was; it seemed to be seeping under every door and through every window, bringing a horrible chill into the room. He squeezed his eyes shut and he wished he could be anywhere but there. Would he ever stop shaking?
He was plotting a way to leave everything behind in search of something to thaw his bones, thaw this foul mood that he can’t seem to escape, when a knock came at the door. Confused, he ignored it, hoping whoever was behind the door would go away. He didn’t invite anyone over for a reason.
The knock came again - louder this time - and Louis sighed loudly. He stood and wrapped the blanket around himself tightly, making his way through the darkness to the door. He braced himself for the cold as he pulled the front door open.
A young woman, probably a year or two older than Louis himself, stood in front of him, her heavy winter jacket zipped up to her chin, her eyes wide. “Mr. Tomlinson?” she asked.
He nodded. “Are you making deliveries on Christmas Eve? Is that even allowed?” It’s not what he meant to say, but it’s out before he can stop himself.
She smiled slightly, shifting on her feet. “I’m Jessie. I work for the Bernard Family of Philadelphia. Have you ever heard of us?”
Louis shook his head. Please leave .
“My family has been breeding St. Bernard dogs for the past 45 years, and we received an unusual request from a Christopher Wells about six weeks back.”
At the mention of Chris’ name, Louis froze. “How do you know Christopher?” he stammered out.
Jessie took a deep breath. “Your husband wanted you to have this dog, Mr. Tomlinson.”
“What dog? What are you talking about?” He didn’t realized until that exact moment that an extremely large box with several holes punctured in it was sitting on the ground next to Jessie’s feet.
“There’s a letter here for you,” she said, handing an envelope to Louis, “and if you decide you don’t want the dog, there are instructions on what to do to bring him back.” She swallowed audibly. “Merry Christmas, Mr. Tomlinson.” She started to make her way back down the front steps into the swirling snow, when she paused and turned around. “Oh, and… Happy birthday, Louis.”
Louis was frozen in his spot. He didn’t know how to react, how to respond, so he stood there, unmoving, until the box in front of him started to shift. Soft, whimpering noises came from inside, and when he squatted down to open the flaps, the blanket wrapped around his shoulders dragged through the snow behind him.
He didn’t know much about St. Bernards. He’d heard they’re big, but he’d never seen one in person before. And when he opened the flaps to the box, he nearly shrieked with laughter. “Are you fucking kidding me, Chris?” he screamed. “This is not a dog. This is a fucking dinosaur .”
The puppy was sitting in the corner of the box, timid and shaking, and when Louis tried to pick him up, he laughed again, realizing this dog is bordering on too heavy to physically move.
“Unbelievable,” Louis muttered under his breath. “He leaves me a 400-pound puppy . What a dick.”
He managed to drag the box into the house, the puppy tumbling face first inside the box from the movement, and it isn’t until they’re fully inside with the door closed behind them that Louis remembered Jessie saying something about a letter. He found it taped inside the box, and he dropped to his knees in front of the pup when he saw his name scrawled in Chris’ handwriting.
“How…” he murmured, tracing the black letters, hands shaking. He gently opened the envelope, heart racing, and he felt like he was on fire when he started reading.
Dear Louis,
This past year has been horrible. The stress and pain and emotions that the two of us have had to go through is outrageous. I’ll take the blame, though. I’m so sorry, Lou. I never imagined this could happen.
You have been an absolute dream through all these months of treatment and chemo and mood swings. I couldn’t have gotten this far without you. I don’t know how to tell you how grateful I am. I just hope that you know.
After talking to several doctors over the last few weeks, it’s obvious what the outcome of all of this will be. I’m scared, but I’m mostly scared for you . I think about what I would do if this situation was switched, and I know I would be an absolute nutcase. I love you so much, it aches, and I know you love me just as much. The idea of you leaving me forever is enough to break my heart, and that’s what you’re actually going through right now. How are you doing this? How are you staying as strong as you are? I want to be able to make this easier for you. I don’t want you to hurt like I know you’re going to. Christ, is it dumb to apologize again? I’m so sorry. I’m just so fucking sorry. I’m trying so hard for you, Lou, but I’m just so tired.
I don’t want you to be alone for our first Christmas apart. I talked to an old friend who breeds St. Bernard puppies, and they said they would love to gift one to you. Hopefully he’ll be able to keep you as warm as I have for the past eight years.
Eight years. That’s how long I’ve loved you for. It isn’t nearly enough. But in those eight years, I hope you know that I loved you with everything I had in me. I shared my small lifetime with you. Leaving you, I am satisfied, knowing I had the chance to spend my forever by your side.
But Louis. You are too good to be alone. When you’re ready, find someone who makes you smile in that Louis way of yours - when your eyes crinkle and your cheeks turn red. Find someone who knows exactly what spot on your back you like to rubbed. Find someone who knows the way you like your burgers cooked and your coffee prepared, who loves your entire family, who listens to your terrible stories and pretends to be interested like I’ve been doing since we were 16 and 17 years old. (I’m kidding… Kind of.) Find someone who knows your worth… but that shouldn’t be too hard. You’re absolutely incredible, Louis. And don’t you dare hold back on my account. I had the privilege of loving you deeply for what feels like a small eternity. Give someone else that privilege.
Until that person comes along, I don’t want you to be on your own. My God, I feel sick thinking about you spending your birthday and Christmas and lazy Sunday mornings alone. And that is why I’m leaving you with this sweet puppy. (I hope he’s sweet! I’m sorry if he sucks.)
If you don’t want him, you can, of course, bring him back. There should be instructions inside the box on what to do with him if you decide that he isn’t for you. But I would love for you to give him a shot. I’m sure he’ll keep you company when you’re resisting everyone else. (Speaking of, call up Harry or Niall or Liam. I’m sure they would love to hear from you and be with you. Don’t shut everyone out. The world is a better place when you’re happy and making jokes and just being Louis .)
Wherever you are, wherever I am, know that I am missing you like crazy. Thank you for loving me the way you did.
Happy birthday and Merry Christmas, Louis.
I love you more,
Your Christopher
It took Louis nearly two hours until he’s able to peel himself off the floor. He couldn’t stop touching the letter, dragging his fingers across the last words Chris would ever say to him, so angry and so sad and so incoherent that his husband of merely 18 months was
gone
.
And while Louis has his well-deserved break down, the puppy managed to chew a hole completely through the box and pee in nearly every room of the house.
He found the monster hiding under Louis’ bed, his bum peeking out, his tail wagging, and he can hardly believe his husband left him… This .
Suddenly, it’s hysterical. The fact that Chris is gone, that he left him a dog, that he sent him a letter, that the dog is probably chewing on something valuable from underneath the bed… It’s all so fucking funny, Louis had to hold his stomach, he was laughing so hard.
He eventually dragged the puppy out from under the bed and gave him a long, hard look. And fuck , if he wasn’t the cutest thing Louis had ever seen. His eyes were huge , totally round and deep chocolate brown, and when Louis picked him up, grunting, he couldn’t stop licking Louis’ hand. His eyes welled up, which he would never admit, and he knew he would love this dog even if he wasn’t from his late husband.
Damn it.
Still holding the dog, he walked into the living room, and flicked on lights as he went. He found his cell phone on the counter, exactly where he left it three days ago. He turned it on and found he has an endless amount of calls, texts, and voicemails. Most are a variation of Happy birthday! but there are a few from his closest friends and family members that begged him to call them, worried, or else they’ll break into his house and check up on him that way. He knows his conversation with his mom will be a long one, so he called Harry first.
“Lou!” Harry shrieked. “Happy birthday! Christ, I was getting worried. How are you doing?”
Louis ducked his head down to look at the puppy. He smiled. “Thanks, H. I’m doing okay.” He scratched behind the pup’s ear. “Chris sent me a fucking dog.”
“Excuse me, what?”
“You heard me. He sent me a dog for my birthday. Said he didn’t want me to be alone.”
“How’d he accomplish that one?”
Louis explained the letter without going into excessive detail now that he’s finally pulled himself together, and by the end of it, Harry was in stitches.
“Niall, come listen to this,” Harry yelled.
“Oh, Niall’s there?”
“Yeah, we’re hanging out before we head in different directions for Christmas Eve dinners elsewhere. Ni! Chris got Lou a dog! And by the time it’s full grown, Louis is going to be able to ride it!”
“Hey, screw you,” Louis spit out, pouting.
Niall laughed in the background and he could nearly see Harry’s smirk through the phone. “That was hardly a stab at your size, Louis. What I mean is that these dogs get massive . Like, they can get up to 260 pounds.”
Louis felt like he was just punched in the stomach. “Wow. Chris is a major asshole, huh?”
Niall laughed again and said into the phone, “Basically, yeah. Man, that’s hysterical.”
“What the fuck am I even supposed to do with him? Have I ever eluded to the fact that I wanted a dog? Ever?”
“But I bet he’s so cute,” Harry crooned.
“Well, he is,” Louis admitted. “But he’s a horse. I’m gonna have to move.”
“Okay, whatever, who cares about the house.What are you gonna name him?” Niall asked impatiently.
Louis sighed. “I don’t know. I was thinking Link, maybe?”
Harry hummed. “That’s cute, Lou. Did you get that from Hairspray ?”
“Hey, Louis,” Niall snorted. “Could you
be
any gayer?”
“Ha-ha, I like musicals and Zac Efron, fuck you both. Bye.”