IM Alone

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hiyas.

sorry the update is a bit later then i had told you before; i had dance tonight so i got home late and yesterday i was busy doing character asks (which will be posted tomorrow, btw) that it just slipped away from me. but i'm here now!

and this is going to be the most difficult chapter i've ever had to write. (i'm so terrible at emotional scenes; they either are way too overdramatic or not heartfelt enough. i'm working on it.) and there's literally so much happening in this chapter that i'm so sorry if it's like confusing or terrible i just

i'll shut up and let you read it yourselves

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It's been a stressful two weeks for Louis. Honestly, it has. He and Harry have been down to Jay's to visit and Louis quickly realized that he had forgotten to inform his mother that he and Harry had been canoodling for the past few months, but. It's whatever. If she yelled at him, it's not a big deal.

They're at a park down the road from their flat, fingers interlocked as Louis swings their hands together between them, humming to himself as he puffs into his scarf. It's practically up to his nose (he feels like a marshmallow) and Harry is waddling next to him in his own thick jacket, hat pulled over his red-tipped ears. Louis doesn't know why Harry insists on these walks when it's cold enough for Louis to wonder if he's living through the second Ice Age or not, really, he doesn't; but he puts up with it and freezes his balls off just for Harry. Harry, whom he loves more than anyone, who buys Louis a hot chocolate, who kisses him on the forehead after he slips on a patch of ice and lands flat on his bum - Harry.

Louis is starting to wonder if Harry is even Harry anymore.

In fact, he's almost positive that Harry has cloned himself. It's the only logical answer, he believes, because there's no way Louis' Harry could turn into this shell of a person in such a short amount of time. It's the only way. A convincing act indeed, but Louis sees right past it.

"Can we go home now?" Louis asks, because, fuck, he's not sure if he has ten fingers or nine at this point. "Please?"

Harry only nods. His grip on Louis tightens as he pulls them across a street, away from an oncoming group of joggers (who the fuck jogs in December?) and into one of the several alleyways that line the streets. Louis clears his throat, snuffling against the fabric of his scarf. "Umm. When we get back, you want to order some takeout? We can, like, watch a movie. Yeah. I'm thinking romantic comed-"

"I'm tired," Harry interrupts. "I think I'm just going to take a nap."

"Oh." Louis swallows. "Naps. Naps work too. I can take one with you."

Harry visibly stiffens, and his fingers go limp in Louis' hold. "I'd actually prefer to be alone, thanks. I just. Headache."

"Yeah, yeah, of course." Louis tries to cover up his embarrassment with a cough. It's always a headache, isn't it? "Do you need anything? Some medicine?"

"No." His tone is clipped and, if Louis didn't know better, he'd say that Harry sounded annoyed. Why would he be annoyed? "I'm alright. A headache won't kill me."

Louis wants to cry or scream or slap Harry. Or do all three. Instead, he watches dumbly as Harry does just as he says and disappears into the bedroom. Louis doesn't bother to check on him.

He just watches.

He watches as Harry shifts out of his grasps late at night. He watches as Harry becomes more interested in his cell phone than he does Louis. He watches as Harry slowly slips away, barely eating a crumb and barely drinking a drop. He scoots by every day with a tired smile that glares right through Louis' soul.

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