for angels to fly | lwt + hes.

Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Why aren’t you answering me?

Louis had sent the text three hours ago, and since then had not moved from his spot on the couch, still in the same clothes from the night before, wrapped up in his duvet and frowning at the screen of his phone. He was aware somewhere in the back of his mind that the TV was blaring but he wasn’t paying any attention to it; he’d mostly switched it on just so he wouldn’t seem so pathetic, and so the flat wouldn’t seem so achingly quiet. 

It had been a full week since he had last seen Harry, and Louis was going completely insane.

He had been surprised that he had managed to last a full day and a half before giving in and texting Harry; he’d been foolishly hoping that maybe the younger boy would text him instead, something cheeky or outright filthy; something that had Louis grinning like an idiot, letting him know that everything was back to normal. But his, ‘Why did you leave,’ went unanswered, and so did the multiple texts he’d sent since then. He’d tried calling once, but got so overwhelmed at the sound of Harry’s voicemail that he couldn’t bring himself to call again. 

The only messages lying in his inbox were from either Zayn or his mum, and he would have been ruminating over his severe lack of a social life if he wasn’t too busy praying that Harry was going to contact him and ease the tight knot of worry that had formed in Louis’ throat and wouldn’t go away. He wasn’t sure if it was worry about Harry himself, or about the state of their relationship, or whatever it was that they had. Louis had been sure that there was something; he’d felt it pulsing through his bloodstream and pounding in his chest, making him tremble and shake but at the same time inciting an excitement in him that he hadn’t really felt before. And he knew Harry felt it too; there was something deep in his eyes and in the way he had curled into Louis like he never wanted to leave.

But he had left. So what if Louis was wrong? What if he was just being utterly stupid and Harry had left because Louis was obviously getting too attached. He was probably freaking the boy out completely with his stream of needy text messages. 

It made him feel only slightly better to know that Harry wasn’t replying to Zayn either. When Louis asked his friend on Tuesday, as casually as he could manage, if he’d talked to Harry at all recently Zayn’s reaction was to squint at him suspiciously and ask Louis in an accusatory tone what he’d done this time. Louis had feigned complete innocence until Zayn had relented, and told him that Harry hadn’t replied to his most recent text about god knows what. The downside to affirming that Louis wasn’t the only one that Harry had decided to completely cut off was the way Zayn looked at him now, like Louis was a nuclear bomb that could go off at any moment. And Louis didn’t blame him; he felt like he was only just barely holding himself together.

The thought of being the only one feeling this thing, this constant need, absolutely fucking terrified him. Because if Louis was in this alone, how was he ever going to get rid of it? He’d be alone forever, doomed to think about green eyes and a goofy smile and ridiculous curly hair for the rest of his life. And Harry was going to forget all about him. The thought made him panic a little.

But the worst part wasn’t the fear of whether or not Harry was just as confused as he was, just as scared, it was simply missing him. He fucking missed that stupid little twat, the way he was always hungry and his decidedly disgraceful coffee-making skills and the way he would sing softly to himself when he thought Louis wasn’t paying attention. It was a constant ache in Louis’ chest. There were reminders of the other boy everywhere; on Wednesday he had come across a hoodie of his that had presumably been kicked under his bed in a frenzy of tangled limbs. Louis had sat on the edge of his bed and breathed in the scent that still clung to the material for a few minutes before deciding that he was being creepy.  However that fact hadn’t stopped him from cuddling it in bed on both Wednesday and Thursday night like some sort of crazy stalker.