Claire, aka. Nic.
Fangirln’ like an Irish bawz.
This is an extension of chapter 19 of Taylor’s masterpiece, Second Chances.
And also this has been rotting in the drafts for a while now, but I always meant to expose you guys to my crazy and I’m tired enough to do it this morning.
Of course he knew that it was wrong. Of course he felt terrible, helping her along in her lies. Harry wasn’t naïve enough to think that telling Louis to close his eyes was the right thing to do. But he did it anyway, and when he went over to her bed, when he rested his head near her feet and apologized, it wasn’t meant for her. He was apologizing to Louis.
Oh, okay, Harry can I please just hug you right now and El and Lou can join in, we can all hug and be happy. ‘Harry wasn’t naïve enough to think that telling Louis to close his eyes was the right thing to do.’ Something about that line just kills me, and I think it’s maybe that Harry knows what he’s doing, but he’s still a child and he’s died recently and he just wants to help both Louis and El and I just don’t know. It’s possibly because Pic wrote it, though. Maybe that’s why I love it.
He was apologizing for lying, for treating him so poorly, for yelling at him and poking at his insecurities. No, it’s okay Harry bb. Because Harry knew that Louis was confused, and he shouldn’t be getting in trouble for trying to sort out his head. It could almost be the normal reaction; he’d found out that he was blind and could also see ghosts. Logically, his brain would shut down, would insist that no, it wasn’t possible, and was Louis feeling okay today. Harry shouldn’t hold that against him.
And there it is. Suddenly my heart is hurting for both my boys and just. That writing, is flawless, Pic, your writing is flawless. My heart. ‘Because Harry knew that Louis was confused, and he shouldn’t be getting in trouble for trying to sort out his head.’ And another beautiful line, but why am I expecting any different ever?
‘Harry shouldn’t hold that against him.’
BUT PIC WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME WITH YOUR WORDS?
So yes, he was sorry. He was sorry that he’d gotten angry, sorry that he’d accused Louis of not trusting him, of caring more for Eleanor. Because it wasn’t personal; Louis didn’t know what else to do or who else to talk to. And that was all there was to it. In reality, Harry had been upset with Louis all this time because he’d been honest and confused and it hadn’t mixed with the idea of dead boys speaking with him or being visible in a world where nothing else was.
See, this is why Pic is my favourite. This one paragraph has more emotion than some writers can fit into a whole story, and it doesn’t feel out of place, either, because the whole story is powerful, and that’s one of the big things I envy about your writing, Pic. The power.
Because it moves people. And people can’t help but be moved when they read it, little lines like ‘Harry had been upset with Louis all this time because he’d been honest and confused and it hadn’t mixed with the idea of dead boys speaking with him or being visible in a world where nothing else was.’ just kill people, and then people are dead because they have been feeling too much.
And now here Harry was, telling him that Eleanor would be okay and demanding that he shut his eyes so he wouldn’t see the truth. Here he was, helping her convince Louis that it would be alright and she would never leave even though she would, someday, and it would be too soon and Louis wouldn’t be able to handle it and they knew that.
Oh, just wait a moment while I try and find a new bucket.
Because, oh, my tears.
And I don’t even know any more. Pic is just. Not getting enough love for her writing, which she deserves, because read this.
So they lied, and she sat on the floor behind Harry so Louis wouldn’t see her and she spoke through spectral lips to pretend that she was alive, rubbed her ghostly feet on the carpet to make it sound like she was awake and well and walking around checking machines until the beeping stopped and she’d been pulled back into her body like a fish on a line.
I was wondering about that part, as I read the chapter but of course the explanation had to kill my heart. And I realise I’m saying the same sort of things here over and over, but at least I’m saying something, because I just want to smash my keyboard to death.
Here Harry was, lying to someone who needed honesty and truth to sort through everything. Here he was, taking advantage of a blind, naïve boy who didn’t know any better than to believe him and the tales he spun. It made him sick.
It makes my heart hurt Harry, we can hug it’ll be fine. You can include your boyfriend in the hug too, that’s cool.
And believe me Pic, I would quote my favourite part out of this paragraph but this paragraph is my favourite part. idek anymore. My poor heart and I’m actually, in real life sniffling as I read this and Pic you are a magician and your magic is words and never ever stop or I’ll send Voldemort after you because you stopped.
OR LEROY. #injoke.
“I’m so sorry, Louis,” he whispered for what seemed like the millionth time, hoarse and melancholy. His tears fell onto Eleanor’s bed sheets, but they made no mark, left no residue for him to make patterns with. Reminded him that he wasn’t actually there, and never would be. “I really am.”
Nonononononono. Harry, baby, he knows you’re sorry, I know you’re sorry, you’re sorry and that’s all that matters and you are there for him and just.
‘Reminded him that he wasn’t actually there, and never would be.’ I think that actually cracked my heart. I’m not supposed to feel so much love and pity and everything for a character, Pic, you write too well.
(But don’t stop. Or LEROY.)
He didn’t know how long he sat there, alone and crying endlessly. But it seemed like forever before there was a hand on his shoulder, and he turned to find Niall, chewing on his lip and staring with watery blue eyes. “It’s okay, Hazza,” he said, voice cracking on the last syllable of the nickname, (‘scool Niall, just show up and crack my already damaged heart.) “he’ll figure it out soon. And it’ll be okay. He’ll believe in us again.”
‘He’ll believe in us again.’ WHY ARE YOU SO PERFECT, PIC? WHY CAN’T I WRITE LIKE THIS, AND JUST. PERFECTION.
Believe in us again, oh my baby, Niall join the group hug.
Harry shook his head, laughing without any sort of humor or happiness. “Is it bad? That I actually want her to go? That I want her to die?” He could see the understanding on Niall’s face, but the words were all wrong. Harry couldn’t leave it at that, couldn’t go without explaining himself. “I don’t want her gone, but. I want him to see that we’re real.”
I feel sorry for the following people during this paragraph.
And this is that power I was talking about Pic, because four and a bit lines and my heart is aching for four different people, for a list of reasons and I just. I’ve told you this before, earlier today actually, and you’re getting better but I want to add a thank you for becoming my Partner In Crime and being my little Pic, my little Twinny. Thank you for letting me see you get better, and letting me fall in love with you and your characters and their worlds, every single one you write.
It’s a humbling thing, to be your friend, Pic.
Niall sat down next to him, curled into his chest. “I get it, Harry.” Tears shone at the corners of his eyes, slipping out and falling down his cheeks silently. “I get it. And I want it, too.”
I WANT YOU ALL TO BE HAPPY AND WE CAN HUG IT ALL OUT, BOIS.
AND PIC, YOU WILL BE THERE.
YOU WILL BE THE VERY CENTRE OF OUR HUG.