Chapter 22

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He ends up falling asleep at Eli's place that night, and waking up too late to make it back home and then to work in time. Eli offers to drive him to work and, since he definitely can't afford pissing his boss off again any time in the foreseeable future, he takes it. They chat a bit - mostly Eli, but Louis hums and nods when appropriate - and then Eli makes him promise that they'll do this again, yeah?

It becomes a reality two nights later, when Louis just can't stand the quiet any longer. And then again on the weekend. And then again the following Tuesday. And then slowly, but surely, it becomes a nightly thing. They only hang out at Eli's place, because Louis, stupid as he still is, can't bear the thought of letting him into his and Harry's home, not again.

Even if Harry doesn't give a fuck anymore.

They only hang on weekdays, because Eli's got his gigs on the weekend, and it's as casual as can possibly be. Eli even calls and cancels on him one evening, with the simple text sorry got a guy coming over, hoes before bro's.

And maybe that's all they are, really. Bro's. Maybe telling himself that makes Louis feel better. Less scared of the hypothetical possibility that Harry might find out about it and be less hypothetically inclined to come back to him.

They do snuggle a lot more than what Louis' ever done with any of his 'bro's. Louis ends up sleeping over one evening, when they've had a few beers too many and it's much too late to go home alone anyway, and Eli kisses on him for a bit before they fall asleep. Zayn can't for the life of him fathom what's keeping Louis from just pouncing on the bloke again, but Zayn can't for the life of him fathom a lot of things. He doesn't get what it's like to have invested more than just your dick in another person. He doesn't get what it's like to miss them so much you feel like killing yourself when someone touches you and it just isn't the same, isn't enough, won't ever be. He doesn't get to tell Louis what he's supposed to feel.

Louis' tried that himself before and it didn't help a fucking thing.

He still feels like shit. Even with Eli cuddling him and laughing at his dry running movie-commentary and boosting his ego, continually trying his luck by 'discretely' pressing his boner up against Louis' bum when they spoon, just to let him know it's there and ready to go if he wants it. He still feels like utter shit.

Of course, in the midst of that, he forgets that Eli isn't actually blind.

"You're so fuckin' miserable all the time," he says one evening, when they're watching some Netflix-series they've had going for a few nights now, and Louis can't even remember the name of the main guy. They're lying in Eli's bed, like they always are, Chinese take-away boxes strewn across the mattress, and Eli's right leg hooked over Louis'.

"What do you mean? I've just eaten, you paid, I'm watching a good series and you're giving me a backrub later on, how the fuck could I ever be miserable?"

Eli usually gets the hint whenever he's poked at something that sticks a bit too deep for what they are and definitely aren't, but maybe he's a bit too high tonight, or maybe he just doesn't give a fuck. Either way, he hits the space-button on his laptop, shifts around to meet Louis' eye and says; "mate, I'm not a piece of fuckin' cardboard. I'm just as capable of talking as any of the friends you're clearly blowing off in favour of hanging out with me every night."

Louis sighs and scrubs a hand across his face. He's right. Louis has been prioritizing Eli over any of his friends lately. It's just been... easier to be around someone who doesn't know you well enough to call you out on your bullshit or pry right where it hurts. He'd hoped it'd stay that way for a while.

But then again, he supposes Eli's an actual person too, somewhere behind the washboard abs and the blinding veneers. "Sorry," he says, "you know how it is."

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