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Louis was not like the rest of them — well, at least, not like a majority of them. He was aware that there were a few other people in the world like him. He also knew that there were many people who pretended to be like him but were not like him in the slightest way.
Louis only knew one other person that was sort of like him; he was like him, but in a different way. Louis wouldn’t have known that he was like him if he hadn’t fucked up one day. Well, “fucked up”, per se. In reality, it made Louis a bit more comfortable with himself.
Zayn had been Louis’ friend for about two years at that point, when he first “outed” himself to him. Louis had a rough day, but kept on the smiles for everyone. Nobody noticed. Hell, nobody looked at him any differently the entire day, including his family and his best friends. Zayn and him had only been acquaintances at that point.
Zayn noticed.
But not that he noticed, but he noticed . He knew something.
Louis went home after school, like he always does. Nothing different. Except, this time, he went straight to his bed, curled up in the corner on a pile of a dozen pillows, and sobbed his eyes out. He was overwhelmed with his life and every aspect of it. He didn’t want this. He didn’t deserve this. He never asked for any of this. Sometimes, he loved his gift. Other times, he fucking hated it and wished he could just shutout off without feeling guilty about it. But, whenever he shut it off, he always felt guilty, as if he owed something to these people.
Louis was wiping tears away from his eyes, still remaining silent as he let the tears flow. He tried to catch his breath, failing desperately. It was Zayn who texted him “Are you alright?” out of nowhere . Louis snatched his phone off charge and stared at the screen before glancing cautiously around his room. He never did take Zayn for the creeper kind.
He had stared at his phone for a solid minute before dabbing out a reply of “Yeah, why?”.
“I know you’re not.” was all that flashed up on the screen. Louis straightened himself up and leaned against the wall.
Before Louis could even swipe the screen to open the message, Zayn had already replied with a “Damn, man, calm down.”
Zayn (16:04): I’m not trying to make this weird, but I guess I am.
Louis (16:06): I’m fine. I don’t know what you’re trying to get at here.
Zayn (16:06): Whatever, man. Your choice.
Louis (16:10): How do you know?
Zayn (16:11): Just do.
Zayn (16:11): So, as I said. Are you alright?
Louis (16:13): Overwhelmed.
Zayn (16:13): I know.
That was when Louis knew. He knew that he wasn’t alone. Although, Zayn didn’t possess quite what he had, he was similar in a way. And that was the first person met in his life who knew something like Louis knew.
That was the night that Zayn “outed” himself as an empath. He was able to know what was going on, regardless of how high of a wall Louis put up to the outsiders. That was the night Louis declared him an insider and decided to not use all of his energy to block Zayn out. There were other things that he needed to spend his energy on.
Louis didn’t tell Zayn what he was able to do. Louis was still questioning his abilities, to be quite honest. He grew up his entire life able to do things . Well, not do. He was able to see and hear things. When he was in middle school, he learned about mental disorders, and freaked out because he thought that he fit the description for schizophrenic. He tried to shut the voices out — the figures — the sensations. It never worked. No matter what he did, it never worked.
What almost scared him worse than being schizophrenic was being right about the things that he heard or saw. What almost scared him even worse than that were all of the damn coincidences. All. Of. Those. Coincidences.
He was about sixteen before he decided that he wasn’t schizophrenic. He was up googling late at night, like typical Louis. He had come across a psychic board and read through some of their discussion boards. It seemed fairly typical that people questioned their abilities, and many had considered schizophrenia. It was almost too familiar. It was that night that Louis decided to never use google again.
Just, let it be known that he used google the next morning and picked up exactly where he left off.
He realized more about himself in those few hours than he did through his sixteen years of existence. Sure, he knew what happened, but he never knew what happened — and what he could do. He needed to tell somebody, but he couldn’t tell just anybody . He needed someone who would understand. He needed Zayn.
Actually, it was a bit ironic, because as Louis opened up a message to text Zayn, Zayn messaged him. He couldn’t tell if it was ironic or coincidental, but he still was not comfortable with the latter, so he decided it would be ironic.
They wound up calling each other at three in the morning to discuss this. Everyone in both households were asleep, and honestly, they are still thankful for that.
“Zayn—“
“I know.”
“What do you know?”
“That you’re freaking out. Spill it yourself.”
“But you know.” Louis bit his lip in that moment so hard that it drew blood.
“But you need to say it. You need to hear yourself say it.”
“I think I see things.”
Zayn waited. He knew if he waited, Louis would elaborate. He waited.
“I see people. And hear people. Like how you feel people.”
Another pause on Zayn’s end.
“And I’m kind of freaking out about it.”
“Welcome to the club, lad,” Zayn said back on the phone.
Click.
Neither were ever sure who hung up. They mutually decided it was a dropped call and both took it as a signal to drop the conversation. For that moment, at least.
Louis decided that he and Zayn needed a proper sit down talk, rather than over text or over dropping phone calls. Plus, Zayn seemed to know what was going on with his life and how to control his abilities. Louis was still confused as fuck.
Or, as Zayn put it, Louis was still “discovering” himself.
They had sat on the couch, two pizza boxes in front of them, along with a two liter bottle of soda. Louis didn’t turn the television on, or the radio. In fact, the house would have been dead silent if one of them hadn’t been talking.
The more he thought about it, the more Louis realized that he never really had quiet. Ever. There was always background noise or soft hummings. There was never silence. Silence was a weird concept.
They sat for hours talking about what they knew about themselves. Zayn had figured out that he was an empath at a young age when he was at his grandmother’s funeral. He had never felt such grief and sadness in his life, and he realized that it was because he was taking on everyone else’s emotions as well. He didn’t learn how to control the input and output until about three years later. He has it down to a science now and told Louis that with control comes power. He can now pick and choose who to get energy input from and has since learned how to block input completely when he needs silence. He doesn’t see or hear like Louis does, but he feels. He is able to sense when he isn’t alone in a room. He is able to smell the smoke that lingers around someone who is no longer in the physical world. He hears, but only small snippets. He hears bits and pieces, but only mostly at night when he is relaxed and almost asleep. He is able to influence others using his thoughts, rather than words. He figured that the rest will come with time and practice. Quite honestly, he was fine with just feeling how his friends were feeling and he didn’t want much more in the world.
Louis had spoke about how he sees and hears people who are not physically there. Zayn had to cut his energy vibe off, though, since Louis got way too anxious. If him and Zayn were both anxious, that would not have ended well. Zayn knew that Louis wasn’t comfortable talking about it at first. But, after a few hours, he was able to talk much more freely. He explained to Zayn how he could see these people. They started off as shadows in the corner of his eyes. Then they progressed to full on shadows when he was about 12 or 13. He was finally able to make out complete features and details around age 15. Sixteen was when he decided he was not schizophrenic because of a coincidence — or, rather, an incident. One of the shadows who was with him at the time told him to call his mother. He, of course, was in the middle of class. But, he listened and excused himself. He never had a malicious incident with these shadows. He almost felt protected whenever they were around. And so, he went to the bathroom and called his mother. She was a bit mad at the end of the conversation since Louis made her late. The shadow left afterward.
It wasn’t until that afternoon that Louis heard when he came home from school. His mother had witnessed a major accident that happened just in front of her and it should have been much worse than it was. The side of the car was completely caved in, and if there was a passenger there, they surely would not be alive.
Louis was thankful that he made his mother late that day.
He told Zayn that story and Zayn nodded along.
“You know, mate, that if you were schizophrenic, you wouldn’t be feeling protected. You’d be terrified and acting completely different,” Zayn commented after his story.
“I am terrified.”
Silence.
“My mom sees,” Zayn said quietly. He wasn’t sure if he should have said that. It was not his secret to tell; it was his mother’s. Zayn just wanted Louis’ heart to stop racing and for Louis’ hands to calm their steady tremble, and for Louis’ breathing to return to his normal.
It worked.
Louis snapped his head toward Zayn, looking at him, not saying anything for a moment.
“How do you know?”
“She tells me stories, mate. It runs in families.”
Louis just nodded. He knew it didn’t run in his family. He just felt cursed. He felt as if he was the outlier and didn’t belong. His mother would check him into some facility for sure if he ever mentioned that he sees — and hears — dead people.
So he never told her. Zayn was the only one who knew — still to this day.
It wasn’t every day — okay, maybe it was everyday — that Louis saw spirits walking around. He always called them “shadows”, but then he figured that was probably offensive. “Ghosts” was too outright, and some of the energies no longer had bodies or embodiments to carry themselves. So, he stuck with spirits.
Now, Louis is twenty and Zayn is nineteen. They worked hard honing in on their skills and were finally progressing. Sure, it took dozens of late nights and countless sleepless nights while they laid side-by-side in the dark trying to figure out what was going on with them. Zayn’s mother tried at times to help the boys, but, as she knew, they needed to discover it on their own. They needed to figure out how to do things that could not be taught. It took time.
Zayn often got frustrated since he was never quite able to hear or see as well as Louis. Louis got frustrated that he wasn’t able to feel other people’s emotions and pick up on their thoughts as easily. Zayn was able to read Louis better than Louis could read himself. And, although he had all the power in the universe to do so, he never took advantage of him or used that against him.
Zayn was finally starting to be able to see quick glimpses of shadows. Quick — only a few seconds. He wasn’t sure if he loved it or if it frustrated him more, because, God , he just wanted to see what Louis saw.
Louis finally accepted that he was able to see spirits and decided to no longer fight it. It took more energy to fight than to accept their presence and to help them. Zayn was able to help Louis figure out how to block off energies and how to distance himself from them if he needed to. Zayn simply called it locking out, which, given, was not a very technical term, but it got the describing done quickly. Zayn also taught him how to “connect”, per se, to spirits in case he ever needed them. He hoped he never needed to.
Zayn and Louis were taking a walk together one afternoon when Zayn noticed a change in Louis’ behavior. He just looked at him with a cocked eyebrow, not even having to ask a question. Louis simply nodded in response, which Zayn took as a “I’m busy right now, but I will tell you.”
And he did.
Sort of.
“It’s just another one, that’s all,” Louis said, gnawing at his lip, physically shaking his hand, as if it away. Louis had seen a tall man, probably late teens to early twenties, dressed in a brown military uniform. He was obviously upset and seemed to be unkempt. He had a tan vest and a brown helmet on, similar to something Louis had seen in some history textbook at some time in his academic career. Of course, he didn’t pay attention at that time, but now, he wishes he did.
“Who?”
Louis shrugged, almost wanting to forget what he just witnessed. “Some guy.”
“Is he alright?”
“Jesus, Zayn, I don’t fucking know. Why don’t you ask him and quit with all your questions?”
Zayn nodded in response, not letting Louis’ comments get to him. He knew that when Louis is stressed, he snaps easily. It doesn’t help that he was finally starting to pick up emotions a bit. He was able to feel the tension between Louis and whoever else was talking to him.
After a few minutes, Louis’ shoulders relaxed and he sighed.
“He needs help, Zayn. I’ve never done this before,” Louis said and he ran his fingers through his hair, not caring if he messed it up.
“We’ll figure it out..”
“Zayn. He’s dead.”
“As I said, we’ll figure it out.”
“I locked him out — I had to. I needed to. I couldn’t do it,” Louis started. Zayn left him in silence as they walked. That was another thing Zayn knew about Louis. If left in silence, he would talk until everything is out. That’s all he needed. “He — I don’t know. It’s a guy. He’s dead. He. Is. Dead.”
“Well, yes. Spirits are typically dead, Lou. I thought you knew that?”
“I don’t think he knows he’s dead.” Again, Zayn left him in silence. He watched as Lou kept running his fingers through his hair with one hand, the other hand shoved in his pocket, fingers fiddling with some lint. “He doesn’t know he’s dead.. He just knows he needs help.” They continued walking until Louis finally spilled what was bothering him so much.
He stopped in the middle of the trail and turned to look at Zayn.
“His name is Harry. And he doesn’t know he’s dead.”
They weren’t quite sure what to do with that information. Hell, they never knew what to do. In fact, it took the two of them two full days to figure out some options.
One. Louis could lock everybody out. The thing was, once he locked them out, nobody who wasn’t alive could talk to Louis.
Two. Louis could befriend the spirit and help him find peace.
Three. Louis could let the spirit hang out with him since it wasn’t bothering him.
They mutually decided that, at this point in time, option two or three was the best. They just didn’t know what to do now.
Harry didn’t come back around to Louis that day. He thought that he may have scared him, and, honestly, he wasn’t sure how he felt about the absence of Harry already. There was some soothing sense to his voice, something that relaxed Louis, because, hell, listening to spirit talk can be scary as fuck — especially if you don't see them at first.
It was three days before Harry showed up to Louis again. This time, Zayn and Louis were in a pizza parlor, having lunch together. Harry just showed up and sat on the edge of the booth on Zayn’s side. Zayn immediately felt the warmth, but didn’t take much notice to it. Louis nodded to Zayn. Zayn nodded back — a signal that meant that he understood what Louis was trying to say.
They promptly decided to take their pizza to-go, paid for a two-liter of soda and some desserts and headed back to Zayn’s place.
They jumped onto Zayn’s bed and opened up the pizza box, Louis watching Harry carefully. Zayn’s mom knew about Harry already and she didn’t care if they spoke out loud to him. It never seemed to bother her.. at least, she hasn't complained yet. Zayn did not want to waste his energy on trying to hear Harry, so Louis would repeat everything he would say to him. He understood — sort of.
Zayn and Louis crossed their legs on his bed and Louis saw Harry take a seat on the edge of the bed, uncomfortably. Louis patted the spot next to him and Harry moved over a bit more and back, appearing more comfortable. Zayn watched, still surprised, when he saw the bed sink down a bit where Harry sat.
“Are you okay?” Louis asked to Harry. He put his hand where Harry’s thigh rested and watched as Harry shook his head.
No. I think I’m lost..
“Where do you belong?” Zayn asked, sitting against the wall on his bed, leaning back until he was comfortable.
I was in France. Tell him I was in France, please. I don’t want to be rude.
“I’ll tell him everything you say.” He glanced over his shoulder to look at Zayn. “He says that he was in France.” Zayn nodded.
“What were you doing there, Harry?” Louis asked again, fixing his position so he was more comfortable. Harry took Louis’ lead and changes his position, facing Louis more than he was before.
Eh — there’s a war. I was fighting in it. I don’t know how I ended up here, though. Nobody else seems to notice me. How do you see me?
Louis summarized for Zayn, and continued through the rest of the conversation to do so.
“Don’t worry about how I see you. Zayn doesn’t see you, he can feel you though.”
Harry picked his head up a bit and tilted his head so he could look at Louis’ face, his shoulders still hunched, and overall still upset.
Am — Am I dead?
“I’m afraid so, lad…” Louis said, biting his lip. God, he never signed up for this. He never wanted to see. Or hear. Or meet Harry. God. He just wanted to hug him and tell him everything is alright.
How — How’s my sister? And my mum?
That was the question that broke Louis. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he quickly hid his face with the sleeves of his hoodie.
“I don’t know, Harry,” Louis started, “What year is it?”
1940.
Louis bit his lip, hanging his head down.
“How old are you?” Zayn asked, as he finished off his third slice of pizza.
20.
“And your sister? How old is she? What’s her name?” Zayn asked as Louis tried to compose himself again.
She’s 24. Her name is Gems. Gemma. Gemma Styles.
With that information, Zayn pulled out his laptop and quickly googled the name. Not much returned back, except for some information about a birth certificate — and an obituary from the late 1990s. Zayn motioned for Louis to look at the computer. Harry still looked at the opposite wall, head hung again.
Is she dead?
Louis just sat next to him and put an arm around his waist and nodded. This time, Louis wasn’t the only one crying. Harry joined in next to him and Zayn felt the overwhelming sense of fear and sadness. He wanted to hug Harry as well, but figured he would be better of staying where he is, especially since he can’t see.
Louis was quite fond of Harry. He seemed to care a lot about his family and others. He didn’t want to be rude to Zayn since he knew he couldn’t hear. The first thing he wanted to know about was his family.
And I’m dead.
Louis nodded again and wiped his eyes, and then wiped Harry’s. God. Why couldn’t he have met Harry when he was alive? He was such a sweet soul, such a sweet — spirit.
It’s okay. I’m dead. I’m lost. And I’m dead.
“You don’t have to be lost, mate. It’s safe. You’re okay. You can see your family again. Everyone here is okay,” Zayn said, trying to comfort Harry. Louis waved at him behind his back in an attempt to signal for Zayn to not say anything. Usually, Zayn is the one to give Louis the signal, not the other way around. Zayn was able to read people. He knew that was what Harry needed to hear, though.
Harry nodded and wrapped his arm around Louis as well. Zayn was able to see the crinkles form in Louis’ shirt where Harry’s hand grasped at his side.
Harry rested his head on Louis’ shoulder.
I’m sorry. Are you okay? He directed his question directly at Louis. Louis didn’t let Zayn know, but nodded against Harry’s form.
“Yeah, I’m alright, lad. Are you okay?”
I’m okay. I think. Harry relaxed against Louis. I think I’m scared.
“Scared of what, babe?”
I don’t know.. leaving. What if something happens?
“There’s nothing you can do. It’s alright. You can rest now..”
I don’t know…
Zayn kept quiet. He knew Louis was trying his best for Harry. He had put his two cents in, and honestly, that’s all he needed to do. He got the ball rolling. This was Louis’ show now. He knew what he needed to do.
“It’s 2016, love. You’re dead. Your sister is dead. Your mum is dead. Everyone you know and love has probably already crossed over. I’m so sorry that they missed you when they did, Harry. I’m so sorry. They are at peace now. And if not, I’m sure they’ll wander to me and I will help them rest, as well. It’s been years, babe. Go rest. It’s your time,” Louis said calmly, not letting his hesitation and nerves come through his voice. He was slightly terrified for Harry as well, but he knew that he would be okay. Everything would be okay. He just knew it.
Harry relaxed completely against Louis, freely sobbing to the point of hiccuping between sobs.
I just don’t know what to do. I love them, I really do. I just want to go home.
“Go home. Be home. Everyone is okay up here.”
Harry sighed - Zayn could even hear that, which left him a bit taken aback.
Louis gently nudged him on his side.
“I think it’s time, babe.”
With that gentle physical and emotional nudge, Harry nodded and stood up. He kissed Louis on the forehead and put a gentle hand on Zayn’s shoulder. Zayn felt the hand and smiled softly up to Harry.
“Safe travels, mate,” Zayn said.
You too, Z.
“You’ll do alright,” Louis said confidently, kissing Harry on the hand one last time. Harry made his way through the door and never came back. The air in the room was different. Zayn’s emotions all released and his body relaxed completely. Louis curled up on the bed and covered his face with the sleeves over his hands, bawling as Zayn rubbed his back.
“It’s alright, Lou. He’s alright.”
“He went home,” was all Louis managed to get out between his cries.
Zayn rubbed his back in soothing circles, trying to get him to calm down.
“He went home. He’s okay. He belongs there.” A simple nod was all Zayn delivered, and that was all Louis needed.