The Artist

Chapter 38

Ellen's POV

Early morning. Laying in Harry's bed with his arms clasped around me, as of they're keeping me here, barricading me so that he knows if I try to leave. I didn't sleep all night and my eyes are burning in their sockets, as if they've been attacked by the deadly fumes of frying onions. My throat is dry, the kind of dry you know no amount of water will ease. I wonder is this how Harry feels all the time? Sleep deprived, thirsty, in pain? Not only psychically but a sort of mental pain. Like the type of anxious, agitated pain of knowing you're in a bad circumstance that you cant leave. Not only that, but one that you don't want to leave, not really.

"Are you awake?" I know he must be feeling a degree of the chaos I'm feeling, but regardless, his voice remains soothing and calm and simple.

I nod a response, not turning around into his arms and inhaling his scent like I've done so many times before. He notices and sucks in a sharp breath. "Ellen, talk to me?" he drops his head down in the crook of my neck. I cannot resist him. It's been a known fact since day one. I have an overwhelming need to hug him and be as close to him as possible, and trying not to is like a punishment.

"I don't know what to say Harry." I give into temptation and roll over to face him, not daring to look into his eyes. Instead, I burrow my head in his pillow, laying almost diagonally on the bed beside him.

After a brief silence, he speaks up. "D... Do you still love me?" his voice isn't steady and sure, not cocky or sarcastic. It's a new Harry I have never heard. A vulnerable one. "Because I know it must be hard... trying to love me."

I snap my head up, looking at him in disbelief. "Yes I still love you. I cant stop loving you, it's not a switch I can just turn off-"

"But you wish you could."

"That's not what I said, and you know it's not what I meant." I snap, angered by how little he thinks of my love. "And it's easy loving you, it's natural. What's hard is trying not to, or pretending I can stop, or even worse of all... loving you and being unsure of if you really love me back and that even if you do love me back, you don't think enough of me to tell me the truth."

"Is that what you think?" He stands up now, and I see he's still in that white shirt and jeans he was wearing yesterday. Briefly glancing down, I see I'm also in the same clothes. 

"You don't get to be angry at me Harry!" I shout, standing up too, feeling the blood rush to my head. I grab the bedside table, the room spins around me. In a flash, he's next to me and steadying me, holding my elbow. "I'm fine." I scowl and pull my shoes on.

"Where are you going?" He sounds exasperated, exhausted and totally done with me.

"Home." I snap, opening the door.

"You might as well stay here, your home is after all two doors away and we all know you'll be back over here by this evening!" He shouts, immediately trying to retract his words.

"I mean my real home you fucking asshole, I'm going back to Cleveland."

"What? Ellen don't be stupid... I'm going with you. For how long?"

"Well, according to you I'll be back over here by this evening." I snap, spitting venom.

"Ellen-"

"Goodbye Harry." I shut the door with a slam.

....

"I'm so sorry to bother you, but could I stay with you tonight... I'm having problems with the plumbing and stuff and the plumber says I cant stay in my apartment?" I ask hopefully. I leave out the details of Don's visit, our fight and me telling Harry I was going back to Cleveland, leaving myself basically unable and unwilling to stay in my own apartment because he'll see and come knocking.

"Wouldn't you want to stay with Harry? Aren't you two all loved up now?" Zayn laughs from the other end of the phone and I wince.

"We're... not on speaking terms at the moment." I look down at my coffee and frown.

"Oh, sorry Ellen... look I wish I could help, but Perrie's sister's staying with us at the moment and she's taking up the couch, if it had've been any other night, you know I'd be happy to help... I'm sorry." Zayn's apology for not having a spare couch sounds more sincere than Harry's explanation for those guys breaking in, and the gun, and everything else he ever lied to me about.

"Zayn, it's perfectly fine, I can find somewhere else, treat myself to a nice hotel maybe!" I try and sound like I'm not on the verge of tears.

"Try Louis, he has a two bedroom flat, he might be able to help!"

"Thanks Zayn, I'll try him." I smile and hang up.

Sighing, I look at Louis number for a moment before calling him... Harry would kill me...

"Ellen?" He sounds surprised... and happy.

"Louis, I'm sorry for bothering you, but I was wondering if I could crash at yours for tonight?"

"Is everything ok?" he asks and that triggers it... I explode into tears and with a shaky breath, I muster a 'no'.

"Oh Ellen, where are you? I'll come get you? Ok?" He sounds panicked and I can hear him rummaging for keys.

"Starbucks on 8th. Thank you Louis."

....

Louis picked me up and took me to his rather lovely apartment where he made us tea and gave me a blanket and pillow.

His sincere eyes didn't pry or ask to many questions, but I found myself telling him the story... the real story.

He didn't gasp in shock or ask me to repeat himself, as if everything was a known fact to him. When I finish my story, he frowns and opens his mouth to speak, but before any words escape,  an unmerciful and ferocious pounding at his door interrupts, followed by a slurred, angry voice that I know too well.

"Louis... Open this damn door!"