We Could Move Mountains


After a devastating car crash, Harry's memory is wiped clean. No One Direction. No Family. No Louis. The doctors insist on taking him away, to a facility that can maybe help him recover a few of his memories, but Louis is desperate, and after a great deal of reluctance, they give him one week.

One week to remind Harry of the three years they had spent together.

But they had done the impossible before.

A/N: Sorry it took so long for me to get an update! I've been so busy :[ This story is slightly angsty, I guess. I think it turned out okay, so jut let me know what you think.

Two songs that you should listen to are Stranger by Secondhand Serenade and If My Heart was a House by Owl City.


It happened on a Sunday night. Sunday was usually the day Harry and I tried to make the house presentable, and it was also the infamous laundry day. God, we hated doing laundry. So when Harry emerged from that particular room and dumped a load of clothes in the floor, I didn't exactly question him.

"We're out of detergent," he said, smiling.

"Damn. Now we don't get to do the laundry!"

Laughing, he flung himself on the couch, kicking his shoes up and watching me expectantly.

"I think the house looks great. Don't you? We would make damn good maids."

"You're delusional, Harry," I laughed. "This house looks worse than when we started. But I would pay you to walk around a day in a skimpy maid's outfit."

"You would like that, wouldn't you?" he replied, smirking.

"I wouldn't be able to resist you. Your charms and luscious curls are already too much."

"Yes well," he said, closing his eyes contentedly, "I must say that I've had to resist the urge to tackle you on stage many a time."

I crossed the room and grabbed the keys from the counter.

"I'm sure you have. Come on. Let's go reward ourselves for our hard work."

He sat up eagerly, as if he had been waiting for me to say it all along.

"Let's get ice cream!"

"You read my mind."

Me and Harry flirted more and more the longer we were together. Nothing had ever come of it but a kind of truth crushed beneath nonchalance, but nothing ever seemed to change between us. I won't lie and say I wish they would.

"Let me drive," Harry said, still eager. "I don't think I drive enough."

"You drive plenty," I replied, tone light. "Why don't you let me drive you somewhere for once?"

"No way."

He snatched the keys and raced to the driver's side, hopping in excitedly.

"You're in a pleasant mood," I commented after I shut my door and put my seatbelt on.

"Hm. Yes well. Tonight is going to be a very big night."

There, in his voice, I heard something nervous, expectant, and hopeful, and if you jumped forward a few years, when this ordeal is long over, I would still wonder 'what if'? But it didn't much matter.

I can't tell you the exact place it happened, but I can tell you the exact moment. Half past nine p.m. exactly, not a minute more, not a minute less. I was looking at my phone and sending a text to Niall, unsuspecting, unprepared.

All I heard was Harry' sharp intake and breath, his hand reach out to grab mine, because I'm sure he knew right then what would happen, though I don't think I would ever work up the nerve to ask him.

"Harry…?" I managed to ask, and when I looked up, there was nothing in sight, only bright, blinding headlights filling the car and the horrendous smash of metal and plastic. The sound was similar to a metal trash can being beaten, like a dull thunder that struck beneath my skin. I felt it, rattling my bones, and I might have been conscious for little while. Then my head slammed against the window.

And everything was mercifully black.

By the time I woke up, I had no idea if I even awoke to the same day. Looking up, I saw nothing but clean white. A hospital.

"He's awake!"

And Liam, hovering over me, the edges of him blurred and his eyes turned down with tiredness.

A relieved chatter surrounded me; Niall and my mother, but no one else was present.

"What happened?" I asked groggily, reaching up to rub my eyes, but stopping when I felt tubes following the motion.

"Drunk driver," Niall said, his voice stiff with repressed anger. "Didn't even notice you guys. The police will deal with him."

"But how long have I been out?"

"Just about six hours," Liam said, his voice hesitant. "They said they would let you go in a little bit."

"And Harry?"

They looked at each other blankly, until Liam decided that no one else was going to volunteer.

"You see…."


Zayn rushed into the room, reaching out for my hand and clasping it delightedly.

"I thought you would never wake up, mate!"

Since when was he so bloody cheerful?

"What's wrong with Harry?" I asked, point blank. I didn't want to sit here and think about it another second, about what Harry might be going through. I just wanted the truth.

"It's bad," Liam said, his voice going soft.

Then again, maybe I didn't.

"But what do you mean?"

Monday: Noon

I threw a tantrum, of course, when they said that Harry wasn't accepting visitors, but I only did it to pull a blanket over that all-consuming feeling of despair that came when they told me the truth. Some voices overlapped in my ears, and I only caught snatches of things.

"No memory."

"Vague flashes of faces at the very best."

"Horribly confused."

"There's a facility, we can refer. Get him on his feet again, but there are never any guarantees for these things. We've witnessed some miraculous cases, but I wouldn't count on anything."

"Wasn't wearing a seatbelt."

"Halfway out the windshield."

I had pressed my hands over my ears by then. They took the hint.

Harry was stable, awake, and not suffering from any terribly serious injuries, but he had lost something major. They didn't have much else to do for him, but they wanted to keep him until that night, just to be sure he was okay.

Then they talked about that facility again, right where I could hear them like they didn't care that they were going to take him away from me and the others.

"I think it would be best," Anne said, her voice breaking.

"Let me help him," I said desperately.

The others looked at me, sympathetic, but Anne cocked her head, curious.

"Would it help to spend time with an old friend?"

The doctor shifted his weight, thoughtful.

"I wouldn't count on it, to be honest. It might actually overwhelm him, if anything, and that could be harmful to his recovery. We just need to let him reinvent himself, mam."

"Please," I whispered to Anne, and the look in her eyes told me everything, that she knew. She knew exactly how I felt about Harry.

"But can't you just give him a week?"

We waited, me with baited breath, the lads with expressions of hope and wonder, and a nurse bustled by, attending to a screaming teenager in a nearby room, like a momentous decision wasn't about to be made.

"I'll let you go and speak with him after I explain everything. I can give you a week. But just a week."

Day One

Harry sat across from me, eyes blank and distant, and I couldn't even begin to familiarize myself with such an expression on his face. Not when it was directed towards me.

"Okay, who is this?"

I held up a picture of Niall, and Harry leaned in, lips pressed together determinedly.

"Liam," he said decisively. "He eats a lot."

"Close," I said, trying to sound optimistic. "This is Niall. And he does eat a lot."

I laughed, and he smiled with great reluctance.

'He's in pain,' the doctor had warned me. 'But not really the physical kind. Be careful with him.'

"And who am I?"

"Louis," he said confidently.


Inside, I cheered. I couldn't bear it if I was just another flashcard face that he had to second guess himself on.

"Can we stop with the photos?" he asked, slumping a little. "I'm getting a headache."

"Of course."

As he yawned, I picked up the remote and set it on the last Harry Potter movie, to have some background noise.

"Hungry?" I asked him.

For an instance he nodded, then he stopped, his eyes clouding over.

"What is it?"

Looking at his fingers, he mumbled, "I don't remember what I like to eat."

My breath hitched as I took him in, his slumped shoulders and sad, lost expression, and I wished I could say something to make him okay again, but I wasn't expecting a miracle just yet.

"I do," I said patiently. "Come on."

His response was long coming, but he did pull himself up, guarded and unsure, and followed me into the kitchen.

"Louis?" he asked.


"Nothing. Just being sure I got your name right. It seems really important to me."

His face scrunched up in concentration, but nothing seemed to come to him, so I offered him a pan.

"What's this for?"


I laughed as his eyes glowed.

"I've wanted to try those. I saw some on a commercial in my room. Are you a good cook?"

Well, I certainly wouldn't lie to him. Especially not now.

"No. You usually helped me. But I can try."


The brief lapse of joy drained from his features, as if I had just delivered devastating news, and he handed me the pan silently.

"I don't think I'll be much help this time."

So with his chin in his hand, he sat at the table and scrutinized me as I cooked. Every time I turned to meet his eyes over my shoulder, he looked away quickly.

"How long have we lived here?" he asked after a few minutes of strained silence.

"Three years now."

"And I really sing?"

"Like an angel."

I didn't meant to phrase it like that exactly, but after his face split into an ear-to-ear grin, I was glad that they had slipped out. For just the briefest of seconds, he was Harry.

And then he was gone.

"I can't believe all this. Nothing really looks familiar. Strangers just keep coming up to me and saying they know me. Six girls have sent me texts on that phone and said they were my girlfriend."

"They got your number again?" I groaned. Not after the last disaster.

"It's happened before?"

"Oh yeah. A month ago. But that's another story. I'm glad you brought it up though, because Simon warned me to be careful about who you talked to. A famous person with no memories can be taken advantage of."

In his response, his cheeky smile returned, and I nearly cried at how 'Harry' he sounded. Like everything had been a bad dream.

"Are you going to take advantage of me?"

"You know it," I said, winking, but then I felt the need to backpedal, because how was he supposed to know I was kidding? I didn't want to freak him out.

"I'm joking," I added as I sat down a plate of three tacos for him.

"I know," he said readily, and took a miniscule bit of taco shell. "These are good," he said, beaming. "I love them."

When he went to sleep that night, he knew One Direction and various members of his family, but not exactly details about them. I could work on that tomorrow. I knew Harry must have a lot of trust, to agree to come and stay with me when he didn't even know me anymore, but I knew that he would have to take a chance with someone, one way or the other.

I was glad he picked me.

Day Two

He had already woken up by the time I got up, only having slept two hours. I was so scared that he may run away in the middle of the night, that it all might become too much in an instance, and God, could anyone blame him? So I wanted to be up to watch him. Just in case.

Though my worries all vanished when I entered the kitchen and saw him staring at an assortment of cereal on the counter, wearing old shorts and a T-shirt of mine. I guess it must have been in his room for a while, because no way would he wander into my room now and take my clothes like he used to.

"Which did I like the best?" he asked without turning around.

"You weren't picky, but I think you favored the Lucky Charms. Do you want something else to eat though?"

He shook his head, his curls bouncing a little bit. I think my heart broke slightly at the sight.

"I want cereal. And can we go out today. Please?" he added when he noticed my hesitation.

"I don't know, Hazz-Harry, I quickly corrected myself. "It's pretty soon. You don't think you'll be overwhelmed?"

Thoughtfully, he picked up the box of Lucky Charms and studied the box.

"Nah. You'll stay with me, right?"

Did I say my heart broke a little? Let's just say it had been shattered and stomped on for now.

"Always," I said with such sincerity, he looked at his feet with a sweet smile, and I thought maybe there were traces on pink, flush beneath his skin.

After he ate, he changed into jeans, opting to keep my T-shirt, and slipped into a pair of shoes.

"It's like everything personal is gone," he said in the silence. "I remember the way a lot of things work, how I should behave, and how to do a lot of stuff, but I can't explain how or why or who even taught me the few things I knew when I woke up. No one is familiar."

"They will be," I assured, but I had to say, I doubted myself, even then.

I didn't know where he wanted to go, exactly, so we locked up our apartment and just started walking. I certainly wasn't driving anywhere. As we walked, he spun around to take everything in, and he waved at all the people passing by.

"You're in a good mood," I commented, then pressed my lips together as I remembered he had been in a good mood Sunday, too.

"I'm just happy today." He shrugged. "Don't know why. Think I had a good dream."

He didn't say much more on the matter, but remained blissful, even after we had walked for a good two hours.

"Aren't you tired?" I asked eventually, huffing.

"Not really. Are you? We can sit on that bench and rest."

He waved at a bench next to the sidewalk a little ways off.

"Oh yes, please!" I took off, laughing as he joined me, and I swear we were racing, leaving all the troubles behind and me, for just a moment, forgetting, while he remembered.

"We had fun, right?" he asked, slapping the bench, first of course.

"We always had fun," I replied. "Every single day something hilarious happened between us. Don't worry. It's not too late for everything to come back to you."

"I wish it would already," he said, face now somber, and I regretted my word choice.

"It will. I swear."

"I trust you," he said, tough he sounded just a little unsure, though it was a hesitancy to trust me or him doubting his memories coming back, I wasn't sure. "Now can we go to the mall?"

On the walk home, Harry pulled a phone out of his pocket and began playing with it.

"Where did you get that?" I asked, startled.

"I got it at the mall, when you were trying on that sweater. They said I had one but it flew out of the car. Will you put your number in it, just in case?"

He shoved it at me, and I relented after only a moment of reluctance.

"It's one of those things I sort of remember," he explained while I located the contact list, empty of course. "Cell phones are easy to figure out."

He waited while I finished up, then asked, "Louis sounds formal. Just put your name as Lou."

This threw me, but I tried to keep my mind calm and my voice steady as I answered. "Of course."

Could this actually be working? Was he starting to remember, maybe even a little bit? That didn't sound right though. It was more like he had been set back to the beginning, before we met, and he was now retracing his steps without ever knowing he had taken them.

As I handed the phone back to him, he grabbed my arm to stop me from walking away.

"One more thing."

Grasping me around the shoulders, he pulled me close and held the phone at arm's length.

"Harry!" I laughed. "I look awful. No pictures!"

But the camera had already flashed. He inspected it, then nodded approvingly. Angling the phone towards me, I saw a nice picture of a classic Harry smile-full of charm-and me with my mouth open in laughter, my eyes crinkled and-of course-my hair looking awful.

Though I couldn't find much complaint with the picture; we were together after all.

"What was that for?" I asked, slightly stunned and very pleased.

"I needed a nice background for the thing. I'm not fond of pictures of flowers."

That night, after we had settled into our respective beds, I lay awake and wondered if day three would bring any more productivity, would build another bridge in the gaps of his memory. I couldn't fix him, but I could help to heal him.

My phone buzzed, and an unknown number appeared on the screen. A text message, telling me goodnight with a smiley face at the end, along with two X's.

My initial thought was that some crazy had gotten a hold of my phone and texted me, so I didn't answer, but after a few minutes, Harry kicked my door open, wearing nothing but boxers.

"I said goodnight!" he snapped playfully.

I found myself laughing for the first time since the accident, a true, from the heart laugh, and Harry joined in.

"So let's try this again," he called over his shoulder before retreating back to his room.

My phone buzzed again.

Goodnight, Lou : ) Xxx

One more X than last time. I don't know why that seemed significant, but I felt its presence there in a way I probably shouldn't have.

Goodnight Hazza! Xxx

So I returned the favor, because every little thing counted at the moment.

Day Three

Harry woke me up the next morning by sitting on top of me.

"Louis!" he screamed in my ear. "I'm bored! Wake up!"

"Okay, okay!" I huffed, tugging my blanket over my face.

For someone who had almost no memories and had just technically met me three days ago, he appeared to be very relaxed. Pulling my blanket away, I was overcome with the urge to talk to him about it, but I was concerned that the answer might not be what Harry would really say. I had to ask, though, because I also had to know if I was missing something.

"You seem very at ease here."

Tipping his head, he studied my face before rolling off and lying next to me.

"I know. But if you've done something before, it's just kind of natural to do it again. I think we acted like fools all the time, you know?"

"We did."

"And it only makes sense to use the same type of wood if you want to rebuild the same house. I want to be Harry Styles again. And it's really easy for me to act like he would. I think he would eat any type of cereal, whichever was out on the counter that he saw first. I think he would jump on top of you to wake you up when you were being stubborn, and I think his phone would have a picture of him and you as the background."

"Yeah?" I breathed, hardly believing my ears. Could he really be coming back?

"Yeah," he nodded. "It gets easier every hour. I think Harry-the old Harry of course-would want his life back if he were to lose it. I think he was the type to panic at the thought of bad things and to maybe be hurt badly when they actually happened. But I think he was okay in the end."

I reached out tentatively, brushing my fingers through his curls; he closed his eyes contently at my touch.

"And why was that?" I asked.

"Because I also think he was very much in love with you."

Yawning, he snuggled closer, curling into my warmth and sighing softly once. His voice, abruptly heavy with sleep, went on, like a perfect record, reassuring and pulling me into him, into a little better of place than I had been previously.

"I think I am too," he said, and then he was snoring.

When he woke up two hours later, he didn't mention our talk, so I didn't either. Instead, he flipped on the TV. to a talk show, which I would have been okay with if they weren't talking about One Direction's latest news.

"Harry," I warned, but he shushed me.

"So the question is what One Direction does now?" asked the hostess, talking to her richly dressed costar. "How do they piece Harry back together when there's nothing left?"

"I think," said the man in a thick, American accent, "that they will do their best to revive the old memories he has lost, but we all know it's a long shot, right?"

The gathered audience agreed sadly.

"There is hope of course, but there has already been talk of Harry being replaced. Sources say Simon has spoken of holding auditions to replace him as the lead of One Direction, but this may be just a rumor. Does anyone know where Harry is now?"

"I believe with Louis," the woman replied, lacing her fingers together in her lap. "I think he is trying to help Harry as much as he can before other measures are to be taken."

"Turn it off," I snapped, and he didn't protest this time.

We didn't try to make conversation until he blurted out, "I need to remember. Teach me everything."

I didn't know how to deny him that, so I agreed, and I drug out the photo albums.

He took in the faces and the facts with his eyes narrowed and his jaw set in determination, repeating them quickly and confidently.

When we had gone through faces, we started with events and the dates they happened.

"You noticed your tattoos, of course?"

"Yes. I don't remember what they mean."

"The 'hi' is my hand writing," I responded. "The star has five points for the five of us. The others we didn't discuss much. You would have a better chance at understanding them than me."

"I think some were about you," he said dismissively. "Now, what was the exact date we became a band?"

And so it went on.

A storm moved in late that night, rattling the windows. Rain streamed down and lightning flashed in the sky, but Harry ignored it all and studied older magazines that we were featured in, devoted to recreating the memories if they could not be restored.

"Tomorrow we are going to do something we used to do all the time," he told me sharply. "Take me to the studio. Let me sing."

"Okay," I agreed. "Just take it easy, Hazza. I don't want you to feel pressured. We still have four days."

"Three," he corrected.

Confused, I swiveled my head to stare at the clock.

"It's past midnight!" I cried. "We need to be asleep."

Reluctantly, he closed the magazine and sat it down.

"Okay. If we have to."

Stretching, he looked around and smiled.

"I don't remember this place, really, but it does feel like home."

That said, he moved towards me and placed his hands on my shoulders.

"You know when I woke up everyone kept telling me who they were, but it didn't make sense. They might as well have been the nurses for all I knew. I heard their names, but I didn't see much in them. Niall could be a murderer for all I really know."

Here, his green eyes became unbearably soft, the color of summer grass, and I wanted to cry at the longing in me to reach out to him, to kiss him.

"But when I saw you, it just made sense. Of course I knew you at one point. I believed it the second you told me, and I think I was kind of lost at sea until you came into the room, looking all banged up and sobbing. I found a rock and I wasn't drowning anymore. Thank you, Lou."

He kissed the top of my head tenderly and disappeared into his room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

I wavered where I stood, my knees knocking together, and I knew I had to do something, and quick. Managing not to run, I made it to my room and shut the door in the same quiet manner Harry had before I fell against it, my back sliding down as I slumped to the floor and began to cry hysterically.

Day Four

The Harry that spoke of sweet things and the memories of emotions that he visited came and went, but when he was gone it seemed we weren't allowed to speak of him. So of course, the next day he didn't speak of the night before, and he didn't speak of being in love with me like I wished he would. Instead, he sat at the table eating cereal. Across from him was a plate of scrambled eggs on toast.

"I made you breakfast," he announced when I came in.

"Oh." I blinked, trying to focus on the food on the plate. "Wow. Thanks."

"So we're going to the studio today, right?"

Shit. I knew I forgot something, just knew it.

"I need to ask if we are allowed."

"I called Liam from your phone and he said it was fine and that they couldn't wait to see me."

Instinctively, I patted my pants pocket for my phone, though I knew I hadn't placed it there and, if it were not in Harry's possession, I would have noticed it on my bedside table.

"Well okay. How are we getting there?"

"A car is picking us up." He scrutinized his cereal before shaking his head and standing up. "I'm full. Finish your food so we can get going!"

Excitedly, he raced to his room, probably to find clothes to wear. I did just as he asked and scarfed down my breakfast before cleaning up and pushing in his chair. I would need a decent outfit, I supposed.

I can't say that I meant to, but three years of solid habit drove me as I drifted into his room and began rifling through his closet.

"What are you doing?" he asked, appearing a few seconds later.

"Oh!" I jumped guiltily. "I'm sorry. I wore your clothes sometimes. Old habit."

Stepping away from his closet, I again felt overcome with the dull ache and realization that me and Harry might not ever get back on the same track as before, but my concern was washed away as he helped up some clothes, grinning.

"I'm wearing your sweater, so have at it."

"You were in my room?" I asked delightedly. "Picking out my clothes to wear?"

"Yes," he agreed, puzzled by my delight. "Is that a problem?"

"No of course not! So I can wear something of yours?"

He nodded. "Yup. You didn't even need to ask permission."

The lads were goofing off when we arrived, but they became eerily quiet when I arrived with Harry in tow.

"Er…hello," Liam said at last, breaking the awkward silence. "It's nice to see you, Harry."

"You too, Liam," Harry replied, putting a little stress on Liam's name, as if emphasizing the fact that he knew him. Liam looked instantaneously relieved.

"Niall. Zayn." Harry nodded at them respectively, and they waved back. "What are we working on?" he continued, looking around.

"We?" Liam echoed, expression troubled.

"Yes, we. I kind of want my life back, so let's just give this a chance."

Liam and Niall looked troubled at his nonsensical attitude, but Zayn nodded sagely.

"Let's try it."

So they warmed up and I went through things with Harry.

"We are getting a new song today. I'm pretty sure it's going to be a cover, though, because we have plenty of singles for the new album. Just give it a shot and if you mess up, don't worry. We all do it all the time."

"Uncle Simon!" Niall called suddenly, and Simon walked through the door, face taut with concern as he noticed Harry.

"Is it really necessary that he's out right now?"

"Yes," I replied defensively. "He was getting sick of being cooped up. And he wants to sing."

I didn't know what to expect, really, but it wasn't Simon laughing and pulling a folder from under his arm.

"Then you're in luck. I wanted us to do a cover of a song and focus on Harry and Louis having solos."

Zayn, Niall, and Liam shared excited looks, but Harry paused reluctantly.

"What if I'm not ready for that just yet?"

"You are," Simon promised.

The song was Stranger, by Secondhand Serenade, and I wondered if Simon had somehow read into us and was playing with my mind, but his expression remained smooth and blank as we began to practice our parts.

We all sang the first lines together, Zayn and the others leaning into their microphones with passion, while Harry angled his head so that he could sing and keep his eyes on me, and I decided I would feel a lot better if I did the same.

Turn Around

Turn Around and fix your eye in my direction

So there is a connection

I can't speak

I can't make a sound to somehow capture your attention

I'm staring at perfection

Take a look at me so you can see

How beautiful you are

And then the verse was mine.

You call me a stranger

You say I'm a danger

But all these thoughts are leaving you tonight

I'm broke and abandoned

You are an angel

Making all my dreams come true tonight

And then Harry sang, eyes flickering over the lines on his paper and his voice wavering as mine faded away for his solo, but I think I saw something familiar in his eyes, a bit of relief, like he had found something besides me that reminded him of that home he didn't quite know just yet.

I'm confident

But I can't pretend I wasn't terrified to meet you

I knew you could see right through me

I saw my life flash right before my very eyes

And I knew just what we'd turn into

I was hoping that you could see

Take a look at me so you can see

I took it over, offering him a reassuring smile.

You call me a stranger

You say I'm a danger

But all these thoughts are leaving you tonight

I'm broke and abandoned

You are an angel

Making all my dreams come true tonight

Me and Harry's voices overlapped and blended together for the next two lines, rich in emotion and wrapping together in perfect harmonization.

You are an angel

Making all my dreams come true tonight

And then we all sang together, sounding more wholesome than we ever had, even more complete in Harry's brokenness, because the Harry that was absent would agree on one thing. The person he was becoming just then was stronger than who he was before.

Take a look at me so you can see how beautiful you are

Take a look at me so you can see how beautiful you are

Take a look at me so you can see how beautiful you are

Take a look at me so you can see how beautiful you are

Just four repeating lines and we had Simon's mouth slack, his eyes wide with a scarcely suppressed joy, and my heart lifted further as Harry executed his next solo with a ringing confidence.

Your beauty seems so far away I'd have to write a thousand songs

To make you comprehend how beautiful you are

I know that I can't make you stay

But I would give my final breath

To make you understand how beautiful you are

And his last line was nearly whispered, his green eyes fixed on me.

Understand how beautiful you are

I had to shake myself to remind myself of my own final solo.

You call me a stranger, you say I'm a danger

But all these thoughts are leaving you tonight

I'm broken, abandoned, you are an angel

Making all my dreams come true tonight

And our last lines, sang together with a ringing finality that we had never possessed before.

You call me a stranger, you say I'm a danger

You call me a stranger

Simon, who had watched in amazement, propped against the wall with his arms crossed, pushed himself upright and dipped his head a little.

"That was absolutely perfect boys. Harry, your voice has become truly spectacular."

Without another word, or basically any explanation of what to do next, Simon left the room. The boys looked at one another, troubled, but I thought that I might have seen the faintest beginnings of tears in his eyes. Of course, Uncle Simon wouldn't let anyone ever see him cry.

The moment we arrived home, Harry tackled me in a hug, laughing giddily.

"I can't believe it! That was so easy and fun. I want to do it again tomorrow."

"Tomorrow's Sunday," I replied, laughing. "We don't go to the studio on Sunday. You can still sing all you want though."

"I will," Harry agreed, and he bolted off towards the kitchen, singing his solos loudly, already almost memorized.

"I'm proud of you, Harry!" I called.

I heard his feet scrabbling against the floor as he tried to halt, and he grasped at the wall and poked his head around the kitchen doorway.

"You sound like an angel," he said simply, then disappeared, resuming his singing and leaving me alone in the living room, grinning like a fool.

Day Five

Harry had memorized the facts by day five, but they were empty for the most part. He knew who people were, but he didn't really know them, myself being the slight exception. I knew that we were both disappointed in his lack of recovering any solid memories, but I secretly hoped that he was recovering enough that he didn't have to go away. Anne had called a few times to ask about him, but I think she was secretly hoping to return for him at the end of day seven and find him exactly the old Harry he had been.

I wanted to tell her I hoped too, but I had to reasonable. I was rapidly running out of things to remind him of that wouldn't overwhelm him, running out of methods to draw out anything.

So I sat in the living room with a heavy heart, watching another talk show on mute who were, blessedly, not talking about One Direction. I suppose Simon had kept our trip to the studio a secret.

Harry emerged from his room, arms laden with clothes, a mix of mine and his.

"Laundry day," he declared.

"What?" I asked blankly, before it clicked in my mind what day it was exactly. Sunday. One week since the accident, and five days after the agreement. And his words were chilling in the entirety, in their familiarity at how he stood there, almost eager about something to do the laundry. Harry hadn't been like that before (before he was excited about not doing the laundry), but this was still Harry, in the same scenario before he had lost everything.

"We can do it tomorrow," I said briskly. "I wanted to sit in and watch a movie today. We can make cookies and stuff. It's going to be a dreary sort of day anyway."

Pausing, he said, "Well I really wanted to get it done. But okay."

Dropping his arms, he let the clothes fall to the floor where he stood. With two skips, he plunged onto the couch next to me.

"Let's watch my favorite movie!" he declared.

"Which one?" I asked absently, eyes fixed on the figures on TV., though I couldn't even hear them, I guessed they were making fun of someone. Poor lad.

"You know," Harry said impatiently. "The Notebook."


I was in the act of putting the DVD in when it struck me, with such force that I dropped the disc just before I placed it in.

"Don't scratch it!" Harry huffed.

"You remembered."

"Remembered what?" he asked, eyes still glaring from the treatment of his precious movie.

"You remembered your favorite movie."

"Oh." The indention between his eyebrows smoothed over as his face relaxed. "Yeah I guess. I've been remembering lots of little stuff. I didn't think they mattered much."

"They matter a lot!" I cried, running for him and throwing my arms around him. "Hazza! This is incredible. This is an amazing step! We're getting there!"

Throwing my head back, I laughed crazily, and, to his confusion, I stood up and began jumping on the couch, clasping his hands and dragging him up with me.

"Are we allowed to jump on the couch?" he called over my laughter.

"I paid for it, so of course!"

"I like them gooey," Harry told me as I sat on the countertop, swinging my legs and waiting for the cookies to finish baking.

"I remember," I said, beaming.

"Me too," he chuckled. "Can we watch the Titanic next?"

"Of course. The Notebook still one of your favorites?"

"Always. They truly went through hell to love each other."

The timer on the oven dinged, and I pulled the cookies out with a mitted hand to find them perfectly gooey, just as Harry wanted them.

"That they did," I agreed as he took a bite. "Are they alright?" I asked, referring to the cookies.

"Absolutely perfect," he said around his mouthful.

My jubilation at finding a slight crack in the dam holding back his memories had me excited, on my toes, as I waited for him to mention something else, and I was rewarded as he repeatedly said during Titanic:

"Oh, I love this part."

"This part is the saddest."

"The ending gets me every time."

And I wanted to sit and bask in the fact that he remembered the ending affecting him, remembered crying over it and remembered his favorite parts, and that he held true to his tradition and began crying during the ending.

"Why do I watch movies about true love when I could never have it?" he asked, sniffling.

"You could have it," I said, but I couldn't draw forth any enthusiasm for this particular subject. "You could have any girl you wanted."

His green eyes flashed towards mine, and he looked as if he were scolding me for being particularly ignorant in a certain subject.

"I didn't-and certainly don't now-want a girlfriend."

Reclining, he nuzzled into my side, his head resting near my heart.

"I've always wanted you and you alone. I'm afraid it's a part of my brain that's wired too tightly for a simple car wreck to unwind."

Sleep had overcome him before I had the chance to respond, and I cursed myself. Every time he wanted to reveal something to me, it was in the confines of a perpetual drowsiness and I had no way of letting him know my say in the matter before he was out.

But I guess I was learning that words will always count, no matter if they are late or early. As long as they are said, their meaning is there. So I leaned down, brushing the hair from his ear, and whispered to him, "I love you, Harry Styles."

A smile curled across his face, and I knew that he had somehow heard me.

Day Six

When I awoke, it was to sunlight streaming in through the windows and the sound of light snoring next to me. Harry lay beside me, curled up with one hand resting under his cheek, fingers brushing against his closed eyelids.

As much as I had fantasized about a scenario where I awoke to Harry being in my bed, I certainly didn't remember him being there when I fell asleep. I didn't have to wait long to ask the questions, for just a moment later his eyelashes fluttered and his eyes opened wide, the bright green sparkling golden with the light and his lips rosy and turned up with a sense of peace that I had not seen for a long, long time.

"Good morning," I said, partly questioningly.

"Good morning," he replied easily. As he caught sight of my expression, he turned his eyes away shyly.

"I had a bad dream and I didn't want to sleep alone. I hope you don't mind."

"No, not at all," I said, relieved that the mystery had been cleared up quickly. "We can go to the studio later, if you still want to."

"Nah." He yawned and stretched. "I want to have my solos down before we go back. Let's clean today."

And of course, I wouldn't deny him anything, even if it meant I had to be cleaning all day, so we turned on the radio and got to work.

Harry became more and more the person that he was, like on day one he was a shadowed hill in the distant and the sun was slowly rising, draining away the darkness and bringing out the details of the wonderful landscapes and secrets of him.

The brilliant greens of his eyes gleamed as we joked around, unlike the troubled hesitancy they had possessed on day one. His curls were styled more like they had been before, and his clothes hung the way they were supposed to, as if they had been put on by different hands before.

But even more than physically, he was Harry emotionally, panicking when he found a rubber snake under the couch.

"I'm terrified of them," he screamed from behind the opposite couch, and he shrank away as I picked it up by the tips of my fingers and carried it away. Because yes, Harry had always had a horrible fear of snakes, alive or not.

He sang along with the radio and danced around, poking at me playfully and sometimes causing disasters where he should have been cleaning. I felt like the house had more life breathed into than it had before, and the tiles of the floors and the walls themselves seemed to glow in the sunlight.

"Do you remember anything else?" I asked idly as I moped and he dusted.

"Flashes of things. Your face. Anne-I mean Mom-talking to me at a kitchen table. A goat chasing me." His face screwed up with distaste. "You with some horrible girl with a coffee obsession."

"Eleanor," I replied, trying not to laugh, because she really was a sweet girl. We all had our obsessions, but we just hadn't been right for each other at the end of the day.

"Doesn't she know that coffee stains your teeth?"

"Fraid not. Anything else?"

He paused, duster in hand, and bit his lip.

"Yes, but I'm not sure if it was a memory of a dream or just a dream."

"Go on," I urged.

"Did we ever kiss?"

His eyes flitted to the floor and his cheeks flushed pink.

"No," I answered. "Unfortunately not."


He went back to dusting, and the matter was closed.

We retreated to our respective rooms to pick up, shouting if we had any intention of perusing conversation and letting the sound of the radio fall between us if we didn't feel like shouting. The day might have been the best out of the almost week (one day to go) because it was such a routine that we used to have I almost could close my eyes and believe it was just that.

When a particularly long silence fell between us, I decided Harry must have discovered the pile under his bed and resigned myself for a nap, because I was thinking I deserved it, in the way that we had deserved ice cream last Sunday, but a nap would be far less risky.

"I'm going to take a quick nap!" I yelled as I crawled into bed and pulled the cover over me.


His reply still rang in my ears as I drifted away.

My phone ringing woke me up, but it wasn't enough to get me out of bed until I realized it was Simon's ringtone.

I scrambled up, my eyes blearily, as I snatched for my phone and pressed multiple buttons before my sight adjusted and I found the answer button.

"Hello?" I demanded.

"Louis. I just spoke with Anne."

I knew right then the news wouldn't be good, but I still waited, hopefully, while he continued.

"She wants to come get Harry early in the morning."

Early in the morning! I checked my clock and realized with a cold shock that I had slept far later than I intended. It was almost ten p.m.!

"The other boys are saying he hasn't recovered any memories save for trivial facts, and we really believe an institution could help him more-even more than you."

Simon sounded so defeated.

"I understand," I said thickly. "I'll tell him."

"I'm sorry, Louis. We did the best we could."

"I know. I'm sorry too."

But I was more than just sorry. Saying I was just sorry was like saying I just messed up by allowing him to drive fast without wearing a seatbelt. I needed to be aware of my feelings in the fullest way I could, and I acknowledged that they were going to take Harry away from me. When I let that sink in, I was not sorry, but instead being drowned out in a wave of absolute devastation.

Walking to his room felt like a death march, but I went all the same, moving stiffly and my gut wrenching with each step. I didn't want to tell him. How would he react?

"Harry?" I nudged his door open and scanned the room for him, but it was empty.

"Harry!" I called louder, then turned and began searching the house, to no avail. Harry wasn't here.

I returned to his room, my heart pounding frantically, and I looked for anything, some clue. Why would he leave? Where could he possibly go?

I spotted a small book lying on his desk, open to certain page. Upon closer inspection, I realized it was a diary of sorts, and I tried to comprise with the guilt at picking it up with my overpowering need to find Harry before another accident happened.

The day it had been opened to was a Sunday, last Sunday to be exact. He had the name of some shop circled in red pen, and had a time to be at the ice cream parlor written in black. Underneath it, in bold letters and scribbled the way Harry wrote when excited:

Today is the day!

"For what?" I asked aloud, troubled. What had Harry been planning?

I jumped as my phone rang, and I nearly forgot where it was before I found it on the counter table. I didn't recognize the number at first, but then I realized it as Harry's new one.

"Harry!" I demanded upon answering. No time for the formal hellos.

"Hi Louis," he replied, sounding tired, but enthusiastic.

"Where are you? Are you okay? Do I need to call someone?"

"Absolutely not. I'm at the ice cream parlor downtown. You need to come meet me."

"How did you get there?" I asked, incredulous.

"I hitched a ride. We were really stupid. We could have walked here if we really wanted to, you know. What were we thinking? Anyway. Just get down here."

He hung up, leaving me in a situation. Did I call the others and warn them that Harry had taken off without any explanation? But he had asked for me, so I slipped on one of his hoodies and the nearest pair of TOMS and took a deep breath. I had never hitchhiked in my life.

I ended up in a car with an elderly woman who was meeting her knitting club at the Italian place near the parlor, so she agreed to give me a ride. She was a sweet gal who scarcely knew how to work her car radio, so it was stuck on some pop station.

"I can change it," I offered.

"I suppose I've gotten used to the rubbish," she sighed, her voice wobbling a little.

One of our songs, One Thing, came on and she sighed again, this time with more feeling.

"This is the worst of the worst. I wish these young ladies would take some vocal lessons."

"Yes, well," I said, not offended but instead curiously amused. "Some people just aren't born to sing."

I thanked her profusely when she dropped me off and I rushed inside to find Harry sitting at a table near the back, huddled away from the raucous teenagers near the front.

"What were you thinking?" I demanded as I approached him.

He started guiltily and took his hands off the table.

"I had to know for sure."

"Know what?" I snapped, flinging myself into the chair across from him.

"It's bothered me a lot, since I woke up," he began. "You talked about everything but that day, basically. You wouldn't explain what we were going to do, and then, when I was cleaning my room and I saw something, I realized you didn't know what I was planning."

"Harry-" I began, wary. I didn't like the sound of this.

"Oh no, listen. It's important. I wanted to know why I was driving like a maniac, why it was so important that I get you to the ice cream parlor. So I left and I went to the store I was supposed to go before here. It was jewelry store. When I walked in, they explained that I was late but they had held the ring for me."

"The ring? Harry, are you proposing to someone?"

"I wasn't sure, so I played along while they handed me the box and then I came over here. The owner said they heard about my accident and they told me I was here to give you a promise ring and they had agreed to clear out the space from 7 to 10 so that we could celebrate. And then things started coming back."

His eyes were clouded as he looked at me, raw with emotion and searching me, waiting for me to understand exactly, but it was too much at once, too confusing, and my heart was still pounding like crazy.

"I remembered, Louis. Waiting for you to give in last Sunday, waiting for you to offer to go somewhere, but I knew you would try to be responsible."

He paused.

"I poured the laundry detergent down the sink and told you we were out so we could just go already, before we missed our opportunity here. Before the ring store closed and I couldn't get your ring. Sunday was the night I was supposed to tell you how I felt-how I feel. And I realized a promise ring wasn't enough anymore, so I went to the store and got another one and called you."

And then he smiled bashfully, looking down at his lap.

"I guess that's pointless, now though. But I still want to do things the way they should have been done. Even in present company."

He slid a box across the table, a little, innocent black box, but as I caught sight of it I began shaking.

"Harry? You remember? Everything?"

"Not everything, but more and more things are coming back. I remember that I love you, but that's just something I always knew. I guess what I'm saying is that I remember my days of being in love with you. Watching you during interviews and holding your hand and singing you to sleep and that one time I had a nightmare and you played with my hair until I feel asleep. I guess it just took me so long to realize it had happened before because we did everything the same."

He nodded to the black box.

"One of the worst things that could happen didn't change anything, really, so I want to make you a promise."

When he realized I was in a state of such shock I couldn't possibly react accordingly, he laughed and picked up the box.

But the thought kept spinning around and around in my mind. He remembered!

"I promise," he began, "that no matter what happens I will always love you. I promise that I won't sabotage our laundry ever again, and I'll cook for you whenever you want. I promise that I'll stop watching sappy romance movies and we can watch any nerd movie you want at any time. I promise to keep stealing your clothes because I think you like it."

"I do," I cut in, and his smile grew wider.

"And I promise that what you go through, I'll go through with you. Over the past six days, I realized that a promise wasn't big enough, though. Lou, we've eclipsed all these basic beginnings, don't you agree?"

He slid his hand across the table, palm up, asking for mine, and I placed my left hand in his, sighing as my fingertips graced his smooth skin. I waited for someone to shake me and wake me up. Was this really happening?

"Yes, I agree," I said gently.

"So I swear."

Here, he pulled the band from the box, and it was not a promise ring, exactly, but it seemed bigger and more of us than a promise ring would have been.

"Is that an engagement ring?" I cried, and my eyes flew open wide.

"Harry, you were just in an accident. A few hours ago you had absolutely no memories and now that you've got a few you want to get hitched?"

He shook his head.

"I know, Louis, I know, but this isn't about memories right now. It'd about what helped me when I was in the dark, and where I want my life to be, new and old."

"So you think that we can just skip dating altogether and just get engaged?"

I heard my voice shaking with laughter and joy and fear and I heard it become thicker as tears slid down my face.

"I think we can do anything," Harry said, with such resolve that I could only nod wildly.

"Yes, okay. Now stop making me cry like a baby and put the stupid ring on my finger."

The teenagers in the shop had no idea that such an important thing was going on nearby, but their voices seemed to fade away as Harry fixed me with a level stare.

"Everything is still patchy, you know. I can't quite recall this, but have we ever kissed?"

"Fraid not," I whispered.

"Hm," he said, and then stood up leaning over the table, and I gratefully met him halfway, our lips colliding in a crash, our need and relief moving together as my tears turned the kiss salty.

And the ring on my finger felt warm, as if it had been lain out in sunshine for hours, because every part of me had been rather cold and sick for the past almost-week, but now all my worst fears had been chased away, by several promises and one swear.

And I had Harry, the good and the bad and the pieces of the old and the new, forever.

Day Seven

"You remember?" Simon screamed, throwing his hands out in disbelief. "Everything?!"

Harry, who lay with his head in my lap, licked a finger and turned a page in his magazine. I hummed 'Stranger' and toyed with his curls without commenting. Eventually, he answered.

"Just about."

"And you didn't tell us?" Liam cried, his voice squeaking a little.

"Surprise!" Harry said, grinning, and I knew that he really wanted it to be a surprise.

"You….you…the both of you…" Zayn blundered, before surrendering and running for us, Liam and Niall following and we formed a giant dog pile on the couch, laughing and hugging while Simon desperately tried to restrain himself from joining in.

"What's going on in here?" a new voice cried, and Anne stood in the doorway, hands on her hips as she took in the sight of us.

"Harry remembers!" Simon cried, grabbing her hands.

"And I'm engaged!" I cried through Niall's hair.

"To who?" Simon asked warily, and I guess he shouldn't have asked a question he already knew the answer to.

"Me!" Harry said, popping up from the mass of bodies to make his claim.

Just as he said it, we were lost again, and Anne couldn't restrain herself. I think Simon joined in as well, but I might have just been high off the sheer joy of everything.

That night, Harry sat on the couch, reading over his solo and playing with my fingers.

"That ring looks good on you," he said.

"Hm. You need one, you know."

"I know. I already talked to them. Do you remember when you got really sick and I cuddled with you and then I got sick?"

"You were sweet."

He did this a lot over the past few hours, as the pieces began to fall back into place like slow rain relieving the earth, there were points where it became a downpour and he needed to lie down and relax as it overwhelmed him. But he liked to ask me if I remembered, as if confirming that the memories actually happened before he held onto them.

But he was coming back, and he knew me and everyone that he was supposed to.

"I still remember the last week," he explained. "I feel so stupid, like everything was on the tip of my tongue the whole time and I just couldn't realize it."

I know Simon worried about us going through something so enormous and then deciding to get hitched, but what Simon didn't realize was that me and Harry would have been together even if the wreck hadn't happened.

Anne wasn't worried at all. She knew Harry would make his decision and stick by it, and I had already proved that I was a constant in his life.

This, I had sworn.

That night, as we lay together, intertwined on the couch, he said, "We could really do anything, Lou. Anything."

And, given the situation, I was inclined to agree.

"I love you, Louis."

And he said my name devoid of any questioning or hesitancy, without any pause at all, and instead said it with a reverence that was reminiscent of a prayer.