Wilted Flowers [Edited]

25. No One Has to Know

They say that eavesdropping is rude, maybe even crossing boundaries. Yet, when Harry walks into the room, opens the door, and realizes Louis is on the phone, he realizes the temptation is far too great.

He wishes he hadn't, truth be told.

"Yeah, I just...everyone is ganging up on me. I wish you were here," Louis sniffles into the phone. "No, no. You don't have to come and get me.... I just...I don't know. It's hard...."

Harry peers into the room, with the door half cracked open, his heartbreaking with each sentence.

"Yeah, I can't wait to be home. Miss you... Yeah, love you too.... goodnight..." With that, Louis places his phone beside him and curls into a ball, closing his eyes.

Harry quietly shuts the door as he tries not to let the tears threaten to escape his waterline. He doesn't know how he feels at the moment. Why would Louis yearn for Clay's affection? Why would he reach for him for support? Harry's been nothing but loving and understanding. Why would he put him in the everyone' ganging up on me category?

Sighing, he sits down on the couch, alone without company, and puts his head in his hands, tugging at his curls. He tries to put everything into retrospect: how he had been on a journey of self-discovery before all this shit happened. How his focus was to make himself the healthiest version of himself he could, but somewhere in the past few weeks, he lost himself trying to make someone else feel special.... but now, he was the one feeling worthless, not good enough, alone.

"You wanna talk about?" Taylor appears, sipping on a mug of green tea.

She's clothed in nothing but a sultry nightgown and fuzzy slippers. Harry pays her no attention. "It's okay," she invites herself beside him.

"Is this about earlier? I heard a crash, and it woke me up. Walked in here, and everyone was gossiping about you and Louis," She sighs. "I guess you're still upset about him, huh?" She inches closer to him. "Well, it's okay...I can make you forget about it...about him..."

Taylor placed her tea on the table and crouched down on the floor in between his legs. He didn't bother looking up still, tugging at his curls and wiping his eyes on his sleeve. She took the opportunity to grab his hands, making his face unshielded, putting herself centimeters away from his lips. "Just relax," she breathed in.

Taylor puts her tea on the table and seats herself between Harry's legs, her knees digging into the Persian rug. He tugs at his curls as he stares to his left, still not looking at her. He wipes his face on his sleeve. As he goes to put his hand back in his lap, she grabs it.

"Just relax," She scoots centimeters from his face. "It's okay. Besides, why do you care about someone so much who does nothing but hurt you? I've wanted this for a long time...and nothing annoys me more than what I can't have...." She whispers, blowing hot breath on his ear.

Harry scoots back, but she follows. When he reaches the end of the couch, he gulps. He tries to formulate words, but they're not coming, at least not quickly.

"Look, Taylor, you're a very nice girl, but I just need to be alone right now, please?" He begs.

"Nuh-uh." She waves her finger in a 'no' position seductively. "What you need is some good endorphins because you're feeling insecure and depressed; I can tell....we all can. This isn't like you, Styles.....now just relax." She pushed him in a half-laying position and crawls on top of him, straddling his lap.

He closes his eyes, unsure how to find a balance between being assertive and respectful. A mantra of Louis, Louis, Louis spins in his mind; those blue eyes and bedazzling smile. It all turns black when he remembers that Louis doesn't love him though, he misses Clay.

"I think I'm going to go to bed now," Harry protests as he tries to stand up.

Like a siren singing her death song, luring the pirate to their final resting place, she whimpered.

Like a siren singing her death song that lures pirates to their final resting place, she whispers. "But why?"

LouisLouisLouis.

Sure, her eyes are blue, pretty even. They're blue as the ocean, the sky, sapphires. Sure, they're blue, but they're not Louis blue. They'll never be Louis blue.

"Because Taylor, I am not interested in you like that!" Harry puts his hands up in surrender, again, trying to stand up.

"It's okay," she reassures him, pulling him back down. "No one has to know what we do."

With a haunting flash of Louis in his mind, he rips his hand from her grasp and removes all contact from her. He sobs in the corner of the room. He don't want to do this. He just wants Louis to love him. He just wants him to feel a tiny morsel of how he feels.

Why do people love and worship someone who mistreats them, abuses them? Why do people reject someone who would give up everything if they just ask them to?

This is what Taylor is good at, though; taking advantage of the vulnerability.

"You're so tense, Harry. You are too handsome to be crying like this," she whispers, once again in front of him.

She wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him back to the couch. "So tense. Bet he's been stressing you out a lot lately, huh? Too bad he's stuck on Clay. I can make you forget about him. Just give me one night," she runs a finger down his jawline, making her way to his bottom lip, hooking it with her finger and tugging down.

Harry wipes tears with his sleeve, closing his heavy eyelids and turning toward her. He rests his head on her knees, letting her play with his unruly hair. He's in a fetal position losing his mind.

"Like I said, nobody has to know." She reiterates as she climbs down, sitting on her knees and making her lips centimeters from his own. Hot breath filling up their senses. With nowhere to go, he panics.

LouisLouisLou - - But he can't think of him any longer. It's like a dagger twisting ruthlessly in his heart. The thought of him still telling Clay he loves him after all this time is illogical.

"I can't do this," he pants. "Please."

She quickly shushes him. "Let's go to my room."

"No," Harry pleads as he shakes his head. Exhaustion is settling in. The energy to even breathe is all too much. Just hours ago, he was in his room giving Louis passionate kisses. Just hours ago, he was trying to make him eat, nurse him back to health. Time keeps on moving, and just moments ago, he heard Louis tell another man he loves him more than he'll ever love Harry.

"Come on, Harry. You need this as much as I do," She begs.

He can see Louis's blue eyes flicker against the darkness again. Her face transforms into Louis, delirium settling in. "I need...." He yawns. "Louis."

"What you need," Taylor insists as she slithers behind him and rubs his shoulders. "Is some attention and love from someone who doesn't use you to escape reality.

He doesn't reply to her. His eyelids grow heavy. LouisLouisLouis.

Though he drifts away, his dreams don't provide comfort. His dream is a scene of him and Louis reading their slam poetry, carefree and giggling over muffins in fuzzy socks on the couch, kissing like newlyweds. His dreams haunt him like phantoms. This is the life he wants.

Tears fall from his eyes, even in his sleep. He wraps his arms around his body as he hugs himself on the couch. This is going to be a long night.