Holding On To Heartache

Chapter 4

Louis slowly comes to his senses and immediately notices that his head is pounding from last night's alcohol. And when he notices how his hair is being gently stroked again and again, the memories of last night come back with full force. The kiss with Liam, the sex with Harry a second time, falling asleep with him. But the worst part is that he's in Harry's arms, his leg wrapped around him and his head in the crook of his arm. What the fuck. He becomes nauseous, dizzy and his breathing quickens. That's too close, too much, that's not Louis. He widens his eyes and pushes himself away from Harry with both hands, creating space between them and not even being able to say anything. He sits up and sees Harry looking at him just as startled.

"Louis, it's all right, come here," Harry says, leaning on his arm, reaching out a hand and resting it on his bare leg. But Louis beats it away.

"You have to go, now!" he calls out in a raspy voice, trying to remember what Lily explained to him about how to get a grip on the panic attack he's about to get. He closes his eyes, puts his hand on his chest and tries to concentrate on what he hears. But it's Harry that he hears. His breath and the rustling of the covers as he moves even closer to him. Louis lost control last night, allowing Harry to caress him tenderly, giving himself over to him as intimately as he had ever been. What was he thinking, is he out of his fucking mind? He tries desperately to focus on what he smells, hoping this will help calm his mind, but he smells Harry. Harry took him over. He has to go, Louis wants to be alone, forever.

"Go, you have to go, this is all a mistake," Louis murmurs and hugs his knees, resting his head on them.

"I can't leave you alone like this, Lou, please!" Harry calls and pulls his body to him and Louis stiffens, his panic now being compounded by the anger that's mingling wildly in his already upset stomach. He raises his head and pushes Harry away with all his might, who falls backwards and catches himself with both arms on the mattress.

"GO!" he yells at him "AND DON'T CALL ME LOU!"

He jumps off the bed and runs to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him and locking it. Harry followed him because he kept knocking on the door and calling for him.

"Louis please I'm sorry, I just want to be there for you," he calls desperately and Louis can't take it anymore. Doesn't he realize how his presence only makes things worse? Tears of anger and despair find their way out of his eyes and he paces the small bathroom like a caged tiger. He hugs himself with his hands, trying to hold himself together because it feels like he's about to break. His breathing quickens and the knowledge that he's about to hyperventilate only increases his panic. He stops in front of the bathroom door, where Harry is still knocking desperately. He lets his head fall forward and rests his forehead against the door, taking deep breaths again and again.

"Harry...if you like me in any way...then go," Louis says, and the knocking stops. There is absolute silence and Louis squeezes his eyes shut, pushing all memories of last night back as far as possible. Instead, he calls out a song and hums it softly, concentrating on the melody and trying to hold his breath as evenly as possible.

"Okay, I'm going. But please let me know how you are afterwards," he hears Harry say and then footsteps walking away from the bathroom. Louis is getting more and more number, he feels a real emptiness in himself. A short time later he hears the apartment door slam and can finally take a deep breath. As always he feels exhausted after a panic attack and he is so cold. No wonder, he has been standing naked in the still cold apartment for ages. Goosebumps run down his body and represent the inner cold perfectly. Louis goes to the shower with his head hanging down and turns on the shower, now burnt out and emotionless. As he stands under the jet of water, his body warms up, but the ice age inside him remains untouched. Why exactly had he given Lily a few more months of his life?