Disconsolate| LS

6

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Just as Louis had predicted Harry's good mood had only lasted a day or two and it was back to his nightmare. Louis had forgot to vacuum the carpet, and when Harry got stuff stuck to his foot while walking he had yelled at Louis telling him to do a better job next time.

Then Louis forgot to wash the dinner dishes because he had wanted to run Harry a bath after his long day but it ended in him getting smacked and Harry apologizing after he cooled down. Louis of course forgave him as always, oblivious to the fact that this was actual abuse but also too scared to say anything even if he was aware.

Today was currently Tuesday and Harry wasn't supposed to be home until 8, but he came in with a short girl with ginger hair and booty shorts. Louis fumed at the girl but took a deep breath before moving out of the kitchen to greet Harry. "Hey Haz," He said and pecking Harry's cheek. Harry smiled as he stepped aside to reveal the short slut, as Louis referred to her as.

"Hi, I'm Marissa-"

"I know who you are and I'd gladly appreciate it if you kept your skanky hands off my boyfriend and never came back in my house." She stared wide eyed at Louis' indecent greeting.

"What are you waiting for!? The doors behind you love, see your way out. Bye."

"Louis," Harry warned.

"What?"

"Be polite, she's not here to flirt with me in front of you." As Harry said that Marissa smirked at Louis and flipped her ginger hair over her shoulder. He gawked at her and glared before answering Harry,

"I don't care what she's here for I want her out!" Louis snapped.

Harry raised his hand and smacked Louis' cheek causing Marissa to cower in fear behind him. "You are going to make our guest feel at home and obey me, do you understand?"

Louis nodded with the tears stinging in his eyes, begging to be let free. He ran to the kitchen and broke a small sob and covered his mouth. Harry had never hit him in front of anyone before and he quite honestly felt embarrassed. He grabbed two cokes and headed back to the living room where Marissa sat next to Harry chatting quietly, a little too close for his liking. He handed them their cokes and they didn't even spare him a glance as he sat down on the chair.

His lip wobbled as he looked away and tried to contain his composure. He hated Harry for that; he wanted to hate Harry for that, but he couldn't help but love the curly haired man with all of his being. "Harry?"

"What." He said harshly as Louis interrupted their probably-stupid conversation.

"I am going to get the mail, I didn't get to pick it up yet," Louis said quietly.

Harry let him go with a grunt and Louis sped to the door slipping on his shoes, grabbing the keys, and opening the door to walk down the block to grab the mail. Although he was telling the truth about not getting the mail he also didn't want to be in there with them. Louis unlocked his box and pulled out the envelopes and locked it before travelling down the empty road back home.

As he walked he went into the middle of the street and stood there imagining what it was like to just die right there, but he knew he would never leave Harry behind as much as he hated him at times. He sighed as he felt the breeze and looked at the empty road ahead feeling a sense of peace. It was interrupted with a screeching sound and a honking horn. Louis' heart jumped out of his chest as he bolted from out of the street before the car behind him smashed his worthless body.

He sat on the edge of the sidewalk out of breath as he decided he didn't want to die. Not yet at least.

When he got home he walked in to Harry and Marissa having a make-out session. "I hate you! I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU!" Louis screamed as he smashed his delicate fist into Harry's favorite mirror and shattering it. The tears streamed down his face in terror, looking at what he had done. Then he ran up to their guest room and locked the door falling onto the bed with endless tears escaping his now-puffy eyes.

Louis hugged the pillow as he fell asleep crying with glass shards sticking in the skin of his hand and blood staining the white sheets beneath it. Then he wondered:

Would Harry even care if Louis had died?
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