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Song questions: #8 and #26 Pick any prompt: #1: Louis reacts to Liam/Bear and the yeezy's IG post #2: Danielle and Louis have a loving goodbye on his birthday #3: Nick comes home to find two popstars in his bed

If Danielle really thinks about it, he’s been slipping away from her the entire time they’ve been together. Those first few months felt like a dream, like the experiences she was living and the memories she was creating were just ephemera she’d never truly be able to catch and hold onto. It was breathless, beautiful, so much more than she’d hoped for, and she woke up so many mornings to see him sleeping on the pillow beside her and thought to herself how is this really my life, this doesn’t feel like it’s really my life. And soon enough, it won’t be her life anymore. She knows this. Part of her has always known this. He’s her nightlight. Brilliant and breathtaking and just out of reach.

She’s been so quiet about their relationship, contained so much of it inside her when all she’s wanted to do is scream about it. So she posts a picture of him on Instagram for his birthday, because she knows it’s her last chance to adore him in public. Happy birthday my love she captions it. Four last words. She never had a prayer of condensing their entire relationship down into a vessel as small as words, but she sends them out into the world, and she means them with her whole heart. My love, my love, my love. You laughed at my jokes, and I was so proud to make someone as clever as you laugh. You held my face in both of your hands when you kissed me, and your touch was always so delicate and reverent, like you were touching something sacred. You put your arm around me any time I was nearby, and you made me feel safe. You made me feel yours. You loved me the best you could, with your brilliant, fractured heart. My love.

“If you need somewhere to stay,” he says awkwardly. “I don’t want you on someone’s couch while you figure it out. I can get you a room somewhere. As long as you need.”

“I don’t need your help,” she says softly. “Thank you, but I really don’t.”

“I didn’t want it to end this way. I never wanted to hurt you,” he says. And he has hurt her, so badly that she expects the pain will echo throughout most of the rest of her life. But she can’t be mad at someone who has been through what he’s been through. As much as she’s hurting, she knows he’s hurting more. And she fucking hates that she doesn’t get to stick around and help him through it. She hates that this is it for them, that she was here for him this entire terrible and wonderful year, and now he’s done with her, and she doesn’t get to be with him as he gets through the fallout with whatever he’s got left.

“I love you so much,” she says, and her traitorous eyes tear up. And he just looks at her helplessly, and he looks so, so tired. The circles under his eyes are purple, and he’s wearing a shirt so big that he’s drowning in it, and he looks vulnerable and scared. Like he’s a little boy who needs his mom. And she would give him anything, anything, anything in the world, but she can’t give him that.

“You know I love you, too,” he says hoarsely. And she takes his face in both of her hands, and she touches him so delicately and so reverently, and she kisses his beautiful, sacred mouth.

“Just touch me one more time,” she whispers against his lips.

“Dani, we shouldn’t,” he mumbles.

“Please, let me have this,” she says, and her fingers are trembling against his cheeks. “I won’t ask you for anything else.”

He nods hesitantly, and she traces his eyebrow with her index finger, just barely touching him. He closes his eyes, and she maps out the rest of his face, fingernails grazing the harsh lines of his cheekbones and the graceful slope of his nose. She memorizes his face with her hands, and then she kisses him again and pushes him towards the bed.

She starts to unbutton her jeans, but he steps closer and says, “I’ll do that,” replacing her hands with his. Her whole body feels like it’s vibrating as she tries so hard to stay perfectly still, doesn’t even want to breathe. His hands are so assured as he pushes her jeans down over her hips, and he crouches at her feet and lifts them one at a time so she can step out. He kisses the inside of her knee while he’s down there, and then he leans his forehead against her thigh, and his eyes slip shut, and he doesn’t say anything for a moment. And then he’s moving back up her body, and his mouth is so warm against her skin as he slowly makes his way up her leg. He sucks a kiss high on her inner thigh while he begins to roll up her shirt, and then his mouth is on her stomach, and she sucks in instinctively, like she always has. He’s always lingered there when he undresses her, and this is the last time that his beard will scratch up her sensitive skin, and she misses it even as it’s happening. She already misses him so much.

She pulls off her own shirt while he’s still down by the bottom of her ribcage. She moves to unhook her bra, but he catches her hands before she can.

“I want to,” he says, but he doesn’t right away. He kisses up the side of her body, and she shivers under his mouth, the tickle of his beard and the damp warmth of his breath commingling against her skin in her sweetest favorite torture.

He walks her backwards to the bed and he lays her out. He’s still fully dressed, and she’s just in her bra and panties, and he looks at her, takes his time and really carefully looks at her, from her toes all the way up her body to her face.

“You’re so beautiful that it doesn’t even seem real,” he says, and he leans down to kiss the arch of her foot, and then he unceremoniously takes off his shirt and drops it on the floor. She drinks in every detail of him as he climbs on top of her, the sticking-up bits of his hair that he’s always fussing with, the way the tattoos on his chest are so stark against his pale skin, the jut of his clavicle and the hollow behind it. He’s so thin, and he’s so lovely. She doesn’t want to forget.

“I’m always going to love you,” she whispers right before he kisses her. He doesn’t answer, but his hand gently strokes her side the way she loves, and he kisses her forehead and her nose and the wet patches beneath each of her eyes, and she knows.

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