I Bet You Won't • Larry

5. I Bet You Won't Forgive Me

Louis was full of anger. In a rush of white, hot fury, he yelled, "Fuck you, Harry!" and stormed out of the house.

•••

Harry heard what Louis said. It was the primary reason that his pillow was now covered in tear stains and his eyes were bloodshot. Never, not once, had either of them told each other "fuck you", and it hurt Harry more than he'd care to admit.

Harry didn't understand. He was just trying to help Louis, to make sure he didn't get hurt. Why did he get so mad?

•••

It had only been ten minutes since Louis started walking, but the sun was already setting. Louis knew where the club was, it would only take him about twenty more minutes to get there.

Louis was absolutely furious, to say the least. Why does Harry not think he can take care of himself? Is it his height? Because Louis Tomlinson can be very feisty. Why does Harry think that Louis is so immature and stupid? Louis kicked rocks along the pathway.

"That stupid, idiotic, clumsy, annoying, protective..." Louis trailed off, surprised at his words.

"He's just a bloody idiot. I don't need him. There are so many guys who can be my best friend. I don't need him," Louis mumbled to himself.

Louis walked into the now in-sight club. He automatically got used to the immediate heat that overwhelmed him as he entered. Sweaty, hot bodies coincided with one another as the people lazily danced to the upbeat music. Louis tried to make his way through the large crowd to the bar. He wiggled through sweaty, half-naked bodies and felt one-too-many innapropriate touches that could only be classified as 'minor sexual harassment'.

Louis finally got to the bar and ordered a round of shots, plus a beer. He knew he was going to be here a while, so he may as well make the most of it.

•••

Forty minutes, three rounds of shots, two beers, and a "sex on the beach", Louis Tomlinson was rightfully pissed. And no, not angry. This man was drunk off of his mind. He was actually the opposite of angry, his smiley drunkeness overwhelmed his past fury. He found his way into the crowd of people, grinding and touching every body he could.

Louis was temporarily happy. If he were to have a fix, this was his. His temporary fix.

•••

Harry was a downright mess. He had been crying for the past hour-and-a-half since Louis left. His pillow had tear stains on it, his shirt had dry snot on it, and his Beanie had ruffled finger-marks on him. Harry hadn't called Louis just yet, he knew he needed space. He didn't want to make anything worse.

But, if Harry was being completely honest, he didn't trust Louis. Not with this. After what happened just a year ago... Harry has never wanted Louis to leave his sight again, let alone be at a club. Harry drifted off into the memory of the horrid night...

flashback

"I'll be right back, Boobear! 'M just going to use the toilet," Harry called out in the noise of the crowd.

"Mkay," Louis slurred.

Harry walked to the bathroom, not an ounce of alcohol in his system. He knew that Louis intended on getting drunk, and Harry was the designated driver and protector. Besides, Harry wasn't much of a drinker anyways. He didn't see the point.

Harry walked into the stall and sat down. He unlocked his phone and scrolled through Twitter and Instagram until he was finished, then got up and washed his hands. He walked out into the club, checking his phone once more. It had only been two minutes.