; 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞 | l.s.

v.

He shifts his weight between his feet, trying to think of something he can say to help. He feels lost. He's never lost when it comes to Harry. Harry is the one thing that Louis always knows. Taking care of Harry was easy. He supposes it's past tense for a reason, though.

He has to ask. "Do you think he's at Nick's?"

"I really fucking hope not."

They both know that he is.

And that's that.

-

Louis doesn't do any of his coursework that evening. If he thought he didn't care about anything this morning, this evening must be complete and utter apathy, then. He isn't sure how many cigs he's smoked or how many big red stop signs he's pictured in his mind when an unwanted thought of Harry popped up, but he knows the answer to both of those questions is shameful.

He calls him.

"Hi, you've reached Harry. Or, well, you tried to reach Harry," There's a small giggle at his own joke, and Louis wants to die. "Leave me a message and I will get back to you. Thanks!"

"Harry," is apparently how Louis greets the voicemail. "Um, it's Louis. I just wanted to, uh, check in and make sure you're alright. I know I maybe said too much last night, and I would say I'm sorry, but I... Well, I just don't think I am. I don't think I could ever be sorry for loving you. Anyways, er, if you could just give me a ring to let me know that everything is okay, I'd really appreciate it. Or, call Niall, at the very least. The poor kid is just a bundle of nerves at this point. He really cares about you, Harry. We both do. And it's important to us that you're okay. Give him a call. Please."

The tears finally come, and Louis can't bring himself to even try to hold them back.

-

An hour, maybe two, passes before Louis hears anything from anyone.

His phone vibrates in his sad, limp hands and he opens the text immediately. It's the fastest he's moved in the last 24 hours. The text is simple, just two words. It's from Niall.

come here.

Louis rushes out of his room with nothing but his phone. It's the middle of January, but the chill that stings his bare arms is evanescent. He doesn't know if "here" is Niall's dorm or Harry's, but they're both in the same hall, so Louis just runs. He's back on auto-pilot, but this time it's from fear. He briefly yearns for the callous, dull auto-pilot from that morning. At least it was less painful.

After bumping into several people and tossing some s'cuse me, sorry's over his shoulder, he's finally met with the glass door of Lyddon Hall. He can't get in, he realizes. The fobs only work for their designated buildings and Louis has never hated modern technology more. So he does the first thing he thinks of. He starts banging on the door. He probably looks ridiculous, insane even, but Louis can't find it in himself to give a single shit. He continues pounding the door with the side of his fist until he hears a Bloody hell, what are you doing? from behind him. Louis thanks the gods above.

"Oh my God," Louis sighs as some of the adrenaline ebbs. A feeling of relief rushes over him. You'd think a helicopter finally saw his S.O.S. spelled out in the sand on the island he was stranded on. He's marginally aware that maybe he's being a tiny bit over-reactionary, but he doesn't know what's wrong. Harry could be having another asthma attack. Or maybe he's hurt. "Do you live here? I need to get in."

The lad looks at him skeptically, most likely wondering whether or not to let this crazy, frantic stranger into his building, but ends up shrugging. "Yeah, 'lright. C'mon in."