You like to preach with a vodka in your mug

Chapter two

Sobbing. Harry is completely out of it. Louis' never heard crying quite so devastating come from him. This is similar levels of crying to when Lottie cut Fizzy's hair and it turned out disastrously.

"Everyone hates me!" He wails as he sinks down on Louis' kitchen floor. "No one would miss me if I died!"

"Baby, no, that's not true." Louis kneels down next to him and scoops Harry onto his lap. He's glad his mum has taken his sisters out to the park or Louis would be fucked. "Why would you think that?"

"I piss everyone off! You're fed up with me, Gemma hates me, my mum hates me." Harry stuffs his face in Louis' shoulder and screams. "Everyone wishes I was dead!"

"Harry, please don't say that. I would never want that to happen to you, okay?" Louis coos softly. He's interrupted by Harry sobbing more. "Have you been drinking, baby?"

"What the fuck do you think?"

Louis assures him it's okay. Now isn't the time to lament him. Even so, Harry doesn't calm down. He gets up, almost head butting Louis' chin doing so, and kicks Louis' furniture and throws cushions at the walls and pulls at his hair so hard that Louis has to gently pick off some that have ripped out from Harry's shoulders once he gets him to stand still again.

Harry yells at him. Louis winces but doesn't take it at face value. He's had to do that a lot recently. It's like Harry's lost his filter completely and he makes Louis pay the price for it: last week he'd snapped at Niall and stomped away, leaving everyone at the table gaping and looking expectantly at Louis. All he could do was shrug and follow Harry. Zayn texted him again saying how much he hates Louis for skipping English again. Louis sent him a middle finger.

"Gemma won't talk to me!" Harry sniffles between sporadic breaths. "She wants me to–"

Gently putting his hand over Harry's mouth, Louis shushes him.

"She doesn't. Okay, I know she doesn't." Harry gives him a dull look. "Do you know why she isn't talking to you?"

"I took her jacket," Harry pouts, "but she didn't tell me she was going on a date and wanted to wear it. I just borrowed it and put it in the wash and she yelled at me and won't speak to me."

"I'm sure she isn't angry," Louis hums as he pushes Harry's hair out of his face. "She might be a bit miffed she couldn't wear her jacket but the world will carry on, okay? She'll forgive you. Do you promise you'll stop thinking she wants you to do anything stupid."

"Killing myself isn't stupid," Harry huffs. Maybe it's some divine intervention that Harry can see the pain in Louis' eyes. Maybe it's the way Louis bites nervously on his bottom lip. Harry interlocks their little finger. "Sorry."

"Thank you."

Harry insists they cuddle. Louis isn't one to reject that offer and so they end up in a ball of limbs on the sofa with some gentle music in the background. Harry had taken over Louis' phone with playlists one day and Louis reckons this is one he'll always come back to: it's a beautiful blend of piano instrumentals and soft ballads and he wouldn't be able to tell you a single song name on there but it reminds him of fairy lights and that's hard to recreate.

Harry gets fidgety quite quickly and Louis pouts when he says he wants to take Louis on a date.

"Come on, Lou, we cuddle loads," Harry sulks, "I wanna go out. Pretty please."

"Where d'you want to go?" Louis asks as he pokes Harry with his foot. "I'll consider it."

"There's a tearoom that opened in town," Harry says hopefully, "so we could go and get cake."