at last (h.s. + l.t.) (boyxboy)

10. Me

Harry laid facedown in this bed that night, thinking that while Louis was probably kissing that glamorous boy from earlier all thoughts of himself in his mind probably vanished. He wanted to scream, break things and jump out of the window in his room. Harry would never kill himself, or at least he liked to think so. Sometimes he wasn't so sure.

He hated that apart of him wished he was with Louis right now, and that his feelings had flourished so much in a significantly low amount of days. He hated that he feels alone, lost, and sad when Louis is not with him. He hates that Louis is older than him. He hates himself for being the way he is.

So, Harry rolled out of bed and angrily stomped across his flat and slung open the front door. He planned to walk into Louis' apartment and scream at him for stealing his heart, pick up that ugly lamp on his bed side table and throw it out the window, then take his pile of clothes from his floor and leave. But he only got to the beige door when he couldn't bring himself to do all of the things he promised. Defeated, he sulked back into his flat and slowly shut the door.

He ranks hands through his matted curls and eyed the black band across his wrist. It was probably cutting off his circulation and he didn't want to loose his hand so he palmed all of his curls into one hand, and formed a little bun out of them. He's lid the band off and wrapped it around tightly then eyed the purple wring across his small wrist.

It perfectly blended with the faded scars thrown recklessly across his wrist and his heart ached. Why Harry? Why would he hurt himself. He didn't make sense. He felt that shock of melancholia and wanted to curl up and cry, cry because out of everything he wanted to do it again.

Yet again he got up and retraced his steps back to his most favorite drug, Louis.

-

Seventeen rushed knocks were placed onto the door before a very tired looking Lou answered the door.

His face scrunched up in question, then in terror, then in anger. "Harry? What's wrong."

"Louis, I can't." He shook his head. "I can't, I can't-"

"You can't what?" The boy asks, frantic. He didn't know wether to hold Harry, or wipe his tears or cry with him.

"Do this anymore." He cries, salty hot tears falling around his mouth.

"What?" Louis asks,his arms flailing out as to catch the boy that slipped through his fingertips.

"When I'm not around you I feel terrible, when I'm with you I feel amazing. But we aren't together all the time and when we aren't the feeling of terrible intensifies. I don't know why, but I love you so much-" Louis blurts.

"You-" he stops, purses his lips together and speaks slowly. "Love me?"

"Yes, I love you Harry!" Louis says. "Can't you see it?"

"What about that boy, the way you looked at him?"

Louis laughed "Thats Zayn! He's my best friend and is engaged to Perrie."

Harry feels dumb, but also happy, sad, confused and scared all at the same time. Throughout all of this his crying hasn't stopped.

"Stay with me, baby. It's alright. I promise." Louis opens his arms and Harry walks into them. The feeling of strength and security swallows him, and he feels okay again, even for a little while.

{probably one of my longest chapters. the real Harry is shown. I'll probably start updating twice a day,I want this story to be done before the watty awards.}