Untouchable

Chapter 33

I restlessly rearranged my closet, which had already been meticulously cleaned by Harry, and remade the bed. I paced up and down the hallways and waited until I could transfer the wash to the dryer. I turned the television on just for something to do but walked out of the room immediately afterwards.

My hand twitched towards my phone multiple times but I couldn't bring myself to call Harry and be rejected. Any trace of peace that I had found on the beach had vanished. It wasn't the same all-consuming stress that I had left to get rid of, but I didn't feel good either.

I finally broke and called Harry when it got to be past midnight and he hadn't returned. He didn't answer, so I called again. By the tenth call, I was crying from frustration and he never answered. I was scared that he was mad enough to end our relationship and I hated myself for causing it. I had known in making the decision not to tell him I was leaving that it would make him angry, but I had taken his seemingly endless patience for granted. I had been stupid.

I entertained the thought that if I got drunk, he would come back. I didn't know if he had any alcohol in the house- I highly doubted it- but I was legal and it wouldn't have been too difficult to go out and buy some for myself. I wasn't supervised.

The thought of how disappointed he would have been stopped me.

I made myself tea that I knew I wouldn't drink instead.

I didn't sleep the entire night.

My insomnia wasn't anything new to me, but it had been slowly getting better and I wasn't quite used to not sleeping at all. I had forgotten how torturously slow nights were when I couldn't sleep. Normally when I couldn't sleep, I was at least comforted by Harry being next to me.

That night, I didn't even know where he was.

It was early in the morning when he finally came back- around six. I heard his car and then the sound of a door opening downstairs. Part of me wanted to run to him and demand an explanation and part of me wanted to stay hidden under the bed sheets and avoid him.

I stayed in our room.

Harry wandered around downstairs for a while, probably avoiding me as much as I was him, but as always, he was the bigger person. The sound of his feet on the steps as he made his way up was ominous. Childishly, I ducked under the blankets and pretended to be asleep whenever he came in. I could hear him pause in the doorway.

"Louis, don't even bother pretending. I know you're awake," he sighed.

I didn't move.

He came and sat down on the edge of the bed next to me.

"I was at Felix's, so you know. I figured, you told me when you came back, so I should at least tell you," he said, "Please, Louis. I know you're awake. Don't be such a child."

I rolled over on my back and looked at him. He looked as tired as I felt.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

Harry shook his head, his mouth twitching like he wanted to smile or cry or both.

"You're such an asshole," he muttered, "Seriously."

"I know," I said, sitting up a bit more.

"And that's the worst part, isn't it? You knew when you left that I was going to be pissed off and you did it anyways. Who's to say you won't do it again next time you get upset or stressed? I can't do that, Louis, I seriously can't. And you can't promise me that there won't be a next time because neither of us know if there will or won't be for sure. We have no way of knowing that," he said.