this side of paradise l.s.

chapter vi.

sorry this update took so long, i had frequent debilitating migraines, probably due to either my severe dehydration or my anemia or even my boderline ed. im better now tho, cuz my body realized it can't bully me into being healthy.

anyway, have a long update as an apology. this is unbeta'd so ignore my grammatical errors and overuse of aderbs and the word "flickered".

i don't remember who said this but louis' love language is touch

²⁸ ⃤

"i'm only honest when it rains
an open book with a torn out page
and my ink's run out
i want to love you, but i don't know how"
- Neptune, Sleeping At Last

²⁸ ⃤

Harry was mad at him, which was understandable. 

Louis expected nothing less than the full silent treatment, maybe with some books thrown at his head in a fit of anger. He deserved it really, but he didn’t expect it to hurt so much. It wasn’t like when Louis put pink hair dye in Ollie’s shampoo bottle and had to sleep with one eye open for a month in fear of the ginger. It was a startling thought, but Louis was starting to realize that his relationship with Harry was nothing like his friends back home. Maybe it was because they lived together, so he had to see the younger boy constantly, or maybe it was because Harry himself was special. Louis didn’t know, and it frustrated him. He hated not knowing.

About two weeks after The Kiss™, Harry hadn’t spoken a word to him other than lukewarm greetings and mumbled goodnights. He continued cooking them breakfast and ignored Louis’ proposition to do the washing, but they felt more like roommates than friends. And Louis hated it. He’d rather have Harry screaming at him than ignore his existence. 

So Louis did what he always did when he screwed up. He called his mum. 

“What did he say to you?” 

“Nothing, mum, that’s the problem,” he complained, the phone held between his shoulder and his ear as he rummaged through the fridge. Harry was out with some friends - and Ethan, probably, fuck that guy - so he had to fend for himself when it came to dinner. There was some cold spaghetti from yesterday, but that reminded him of the awkward silence as they ate. He frowned and closed the fridge. 

“What did you do to have him stop talking to you?” She asked, her voice tinged with disappointment. 

He moved the phone to his other shoulder while grabbing some bread and a jar of Nutella. “It’s not that important, I just need to know how to fix it. I hate when he’s mad at me.”

She hummed, and in the background he could hear his sisters fighting over something dumb, like the remote for their telly or something. A sharp pang of homesickness hit him. He’d always been close to his family, but while he knew he couldn’t live with his mum until he was fat and old, he didn’t expect to be this far away from them so soon. He could always plan a trip back to Donny, but with how wishy-washy his relationship with Harry currently was, and their album being released so soon, and every complicated thing that came with it, he’d have to put that plan on the back burner. He would really like his mum’s hugs right about now. 

“Have you considered that maybe he’s just hurt?” His mum asked, breaking him out of his thoughts. “I don’t know what you did, but you can be a bit-”

“Of a twat?” He supplied. 

She huffed. “I was going to say, ‘a bit too much’, but that works. Watch your language, by the way, you’re still my little boobear.”