Breaking Louis Tomlinson {Larry Stylinson AU}

Chapter Eight

a/n: dedications are actually impossible now you guys make this so hard but i love it eeek

if you do not get one soon kick me or something you all deserve it and im trying i promise

this chapter was a bit of a mess im sorry ive been busy and eek

dedication goes to @lilasmysteries for leaving such detailed and extremely well-worded reviews holy cow you are actually the bomb.com

im so happy we're almost at 4k and 300 votes fsdkasfkfkfd you guys are the actual  best :) have a good week! x

New Years came around in a flurry of work, Harry, and stress for Louis. He’d been working double shifts at the pub to make up for the lack of staff and the influx of customers, which literally sucked the energy out of him. After those hellish shifts though, he could count on Harry being at his flat with a warm cup of tea waiting and if he was lucky, one of his home-cooked meals.

Yes, Harry was spending an awful lot of time over at Louis’s because Ed had been moving his stuff from his house over to his new flat in London all week. Ed told Harry he had enough people to help him move, and since the house was a little too busy for Harry’s liking, he preferred to spend the time at Louis’s. Which didn’t really bother Louis; Harry had an affinity for cooking, and he liked tidying the flat up while Louis was gone. And well, maybe the idea of coming home to a very fit, lean man did please Louis more than he would like to admit.

Harry was slowly brightening up his flat—one smile at a time.

It was a barely perceptible shift—but Louis could feel it. And it went past the fact Harry liked to pick up after Louis’s mess (even though Louis begged him not to; he didn’t want Harry to feel like he had to) it was more the fact that Harry’s laugh filled the empty spaces in Louis’s flat, and his warm smiles brightening the dark corners. It felt right to have Harry there; it’s the only way Louis could explain it, but he didn’t care because everything was now harryharryharry.

Yes, things were going well with Harry—but not exactly with Louis.

It was late after Harry left and Louis felt shitty all day—it wasn’t anything Harry could’ve fixed—and he couldn’t ignore that little itch in the back of his mind that craved the pain, the sting. It was a quick, ten cuts or so, but still, Louis did it and he felt bad when Harry showed up the next morning, all bright smiles and happy words. He thought Louis had stayed clean—because Louis knew how to hide it.

Still—it was better. The things that would usually trigger him didn’t set him off quite so badly because Harry acted as his stabiliser without even knowing it.

Anyway, New Years Eve found Louis hurrying home after his shift, anxious to get home to Harry, who said he had a surprise for Louis. He was a bit dubious—he didn’t think Harry should feel obligated to get him anything—but he was so excited over the phone that Louis couldn’t deny him. Whatever Harry had been through, he learned how to push it aside and find the happy in literally everything, and who was Louis to take that away?

The bike ride home was hell for Louis because it decided to snow about halfway home and Louis forgot his warm little gloves that his great nan knitted for him and his usual beanie. He wondered if it was possible for fingers to become frozen to handlebars, because he certainty couldn’t move his own.

But eventually, he made it home, chilled to the bone and cursing at everything he owned for being so stupid as to forget his fucking winter clothes. He was still fuming about it when he walked in; so angry in fact that he didn’t notice there were two extra people in his flat.