You like to preach with a vodka in your mug

Chapter seven

is harry ok?
he looks pretty drunk
has he done anything to you

delivered 23:04 31/12

Louis considers finally texting Liam back. Sure it's been half a week but they'd been fine until now. They'd spent all of the first of January recovering – Lottie took the piss out of them and their hangovers – and had even managed to squeeze in a brunch date the other day. It was cute, Louis had fun and Harry was bright and bubbly as anything.

we're not coming in today
tell someone we're sick

It's a little vague; it'll probably make Liam panic but Louis can't just leave Harry to throw a hissy fit in his kitchen alone.

"H, baby, can you please tell me what's wrong?"

Harry, apparently, cannot. He clings weakly onto Louis' clothes and tries to pull him down onto the floor to join him.

Louis crouches down and curls up next to him, the cupboards cool against his back. He's still in his loose, worn-down pyjama top that doesn't really do anything to fight against the cold (he was running late and planning on skipping registration anyway when Harry came over) but there isn't much he's prepared to leave Harry for right now.

"I'm useless," Harry wails, "just tell me to get a grip!"

"Baby–"

"Stop being nice!" Harry whines, head dropping forwards and forehead resting atop his knees. "You're too good for me. I can't say one dumb little thing. I can't stop drinking! Fuck, Lou, I'm an alcoholic!"

He gradually descends into hysterics and wails that ricochet off of the tile flooring and he tugs at Louis' shirt so hard Louis' convinced it'll rip and he kicks his feet frustratedly every so often. Louis combs through his hair and stares miserably at the wall in front of them. His phone buzzes harshly against the hard floor a few times but he slides it a little away and flips it over so Harry can't see any messages about him. Liam is smart enough to know we're not coming in today means that Harry is once again not fit for school.

Harry screams at him about something but he isn't sure why: he can't even tell if it's something Louis did or if it's something Harry did or if it's just yelling for the sake of getting his emotions out. Louis, as much as every word Harry shouts pains his heart, would much rather take some shouting than sit and watch Harry polish off a bottle. When Harry starts sobbing again (though less painfully than before) his throat sounds scratchy and raw. Louis still doesn't dare utter a word until Harry's done, breathing still sporadic but yelling and crying finally over. Louis' bum feels numb and his arms are covered in goosebumps.

"Did you tell your mum? Or is Miss Haywood going to call her still?"

Harry tenses up.

"Neither."

"Why?" Louis frowns, gently pushing Harry's forehead so he'll look up.

"I took mum's phone and blocked Miss' number before she could call her back," Harry admits miserably. "I've ignored all Miss Haywood's emails about not getting in touch."

"Baby, please," Louis sighs. "Please."

It might be because Louis is tired still or because he's just been yelled at but Harry whimpers and crawls away a bit once Louis begins to sniffle.

"Lou–"

"Sorry," Louis blurts, voice catching slightly in his throat. "I'm scared, H. You're destroying yourself and I'm going to say something soon. Please, I don't care if it's for you or for me, just tell someone! I can't be the only person who knows anymore."