You & I (Larry)

14.

-Harry's POV-

Should I go over there and talk to him, or is it still too soon? Is he still mad at me? Does--

"Haz," Louis says, walking over to me. 

"Oh... Uh... Hi, Louis," I stuttered. He smiled as I struggled to get my words out.

"How are you?" 

"Ahh... Alright, and you?"

"Alright as well," Louis says, looking at the grey tiled floor of Sophia's flat and shuffling his feet awkwardly.

"Are you still upset with me?" I whisper.

"Not here, Harry," He pleaded.

Shaking my head, I grab his wrist and pull him away from our spot near the front door in the living room.

"Sophia, can I go in your room for a minute?" I ask Sophia, stopping to get her permission. Nodding her head, I take hold of Louis' wrist once again and lead him back to the room that I assume is Sophia's.

When we reach our destination, I close the door and tell him to take a seat on the bed, which he obliges to.

"Answer my question," I push.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Louis contorts.

"Don't play dumb with me, Louis. You know what i'm talking about."

"No."

"No what?"

"No, i'm not still mad at you. I'm over it," Louis rolls his eyes half-heartedly.

"Doesn't seem like it."

"Well I am," Louis quips.

Sitting down next to Louis on the bed, which is purple and lacey, I grab his hand gently and urge his eyes to find mine.

"Are you okay? Are you really okay?" I ask.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"No you're not." 

"God dammit Harry, I said i'm fine--"

I pull up one of the sleeves on his jacket, exposing his wrist. His wrist is a milky white color, but it's thrown off by old scars and fresh cuts, scabbing up like all the others. Louis yanks his wrist back, covering it back up hastily.

"Louis--" My voice cracks, tears welling up in my eyes.

"What? What do you want me to do, Harry? I've run out of options," Louis interupts me, his eyes watering as he tries to hold back the tears.

"No, you haven't."

"Yes, I have. I can't live like this anymore, Harry. It hurts so much," Louis says, a single tear escaping his bloodshot eyes.

Wiping the tear away, I pull him into a hug.

"Stop, Harry. You're only making it worse," Louis pushes my chest weakly, but I don't release him.

"What do you mean?"

"I can't keep going anymore. I'm slowly dying, every minute, every second you're not with me I die a little more. I might as well just put myself out of my own misery."

"No, you can't do that, Louis. I need you," I whisper, starting to cry. I hug him tighter.

"Doesn't seem like it with the way things have been going with us."

"I do. I need you more than I need anything, Louis. You're my everything. If I lose you, i'll never be able to forgive myself," I sob.

"There's a difference between needing something and wanting something. Do you need me, or do you just want me?"