Chapter Eleven

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(Harry's POV)

"Hello?" I spoke into the receiver of my phone, grabbing hold of Niall's hand so I didn't lose him in the crowd.
"Harry? It's Louis. You need to come home right now," the voice of my best friend was quiet in my ear, getting drowned out by the commotion on the street.
"Why?" I asked, my heart rate speeding up a little. I continued shoving past people with Niall, almost at the end of the sidewalk.
"John's here," Louis said, sounding a bit worried. Speeding up a little, we finally got through the last little crowd of people. We turned the corner onto Berwick, the human traffic immediately dying down. I let go of Niall's hand, leaving a cold vacancy. I thought I heard him whimper but I just kept staring straight ahead, my legs going faster and faster.
"I'm on my way home now," I replied, removing the phone from my ear and ending the call. I shoved it back in my pocket and stopped to turn to Niall.
"What's going on?" He asked, his eyes holding a confused look.
"Louis needs me," I half lied. "But I'll call you later okay?" I took his hands in mine and shot him a warm smile.
He smiled back. "Okay. Talk to you later then."
I let go of his warm hands and turned, jogging down Berwick and onto the next street. I felt bad for just leaving him there on the sidewalk. I hadn't wanted to leave at all, I could spend hours on end with him.
What is he doing to me? I noticed last night that I can't get angry around him. Well, maybe I can. I haven't been around him long enough to tell. But I defiantly want to figure it out.
I'm not gay. I know I'm not. I've never, ever looked at a guy the way I look at girls. Then what is it with Niall? Do I like him or am I just...
I don't know.
For a moment, I feel disgusted with myself. How could I even think about possibly liking a guy? A guy. It's not ordinary, it's not how it's supposed to be. But fuck, Niall is hot. Oh god, just I just say he's hot? What the fuck! What is happening to me? Am I suddenly going gay? Shut up, Harry. You're freaking yourself out.
Confusing thoughts after confusing thoughts filled my head. My mind fought with my heart over this boy, and I haven't even known him for 24 hours.
I pushed everything to the back of my mind as I reached my apartment building. The same old boring elevator music greeted me as the thick metal doors slid shut. I stood there tapping my foot and watching the red numbers above the door count up from 1 slowly. When it finally got to 6, I exited the elevator and quickly walked to my apartment door, shoving my keys into it. The smell of weed quickly surrounded me as I entered my flat, making sure the door was closed behind me.
"Lou?" I called out. I placed my keys and phone onto the kitchen table.
"In here," I heard a voice call back from the living room. I noticed one of my bongs was gone from the counter, rolling my eyes. I walked through the kitchen and turned the corner into the living room.
Louis and John were both sat on my couch, a bong sitting in front of them on the coffee table. The smell of weed was stronger in here, signalling that they probably took a few rips before I had gotten home.
"Why did you need me home so bad?" I asked, looking between John and Louis. I took my seat in the small leather recliner across from the couch so I could look them straight on.
"I think I'm going to start up here again," Louis said, a smile playing on his lips.
"Ah, yes," John added. "You and Louis can be partners from now on. You can share your pay."
I scoffed in frustration. "Are you fucking kidding me? I barely even make enough to buy myself a coffee! I've been doing this without Louis for half a fucking year. I'm not starting back up again with him."
I noticed as Louis' face fell, his eyes almost seeming sad, but his face said he was pissed off. "You need me, Harry. You got fucking stabbed last night!"
"I don't need you to hold my fucking hand everywhere I go!" My voice was getting louder and louder by the second, but Louis made sure he reached that tone as well.
"Apparently you do. Because you're too fucking stupid to do this job on your own!" That crossed the line. I stood up from my chair and lunged over to the couch, grabbing Louis by the shirt and hoisting him up. I harshly pulled him away from the sofa and backed us up, slamming him against the wall. I pressed the fists that were still holding onto his shirt into his chest, pinning him back. My breathing was hard, my face even harder. I saw as a flash of fear went through his eyes, but were quickly replaced by a cold expression. I glared at him, completely forgetting that John was even in the room.
"Don't you ever say that I'm not capable of doing this job on my own," my voice was low and intimidating. "I never fucking wanted you to come back."
"You don't mean that, Harry," Louis said, no longer with an angry expression but with a hurt one.
I opened my mouth to reply but John's deep voice cut through. "Harry let go of him."
I ignored John's request, pushing my fists harder into Louis' chest. His blue eyes stared back at my green ones in shock. I have never acted this way towards Louis before. I have never hurt him, or yelled at him or felt like I hated him. But a lot can change in six months.
"Harry," John said again, this time grabbing my shoulder. "I said to let go."
"Why didn't you call?" I asked, shrugging his hand off my shoulder and glaring at Louis. His mouth dropped into a frown and his forehead creased.
"I.. I'm sorry," he whispered.
I let out a short, rude laugh. "'Sorry' doesn't fucking fix anything. You could have called, Louis. You could have texted or sent a damn letter! Do I mean nothing to you?" My voice was raising again.
"I'm sorry! I got caught up with all the work I had to do! I didn't mean to ignore you. You know I wouldn't do it on purpose," he said frantically.
"It really seems like you fucking did," I let my voice drop back into a lower tone. I watched as Louis' eyes started to water a little as he looked down at my chest instead of my face.
"You're my best friend, Harry. You mean a lot to me and you always will," he whispered. He raised his eyes back up so he was looking at me again. "I'm sorry."
I felt my face drop from its angry expression. I couldn't stay angry at him. He's the only friend I have besides Niall, but he doesn't know anything about me. Louis knew everything, he was my support. He had always been there for me, for five years. One little mistake shouldn't effect that. I sighed and let go of his shirt, stepping back. "It's okay."
He straightened out his crumpled t-shirt and smiled at me, pulling me into a quick hug.
"Don't ever fucking go to Paris again," I said into his shoulder.
He chuckled and pulled away, his eyes shining. "I won't."
I turned around to see that John was standing there in the middle of the living room, his fingers scratching his dirty beard like he was studying us. "If you two can show me that you're worth the money, then I'll up your pay," he said after a moment.
Louis smiled and reached forward to shake his hand politely, which I didn't really understand because all of this is kind of John's fault. John gave a small smile back and held out his hand for me to shake, but I ignored it and crossed my arms over my chest with a scowl. John retreated his hand and rolled his eyes before turning around and strolling out of the small living room.
"See you at ten, boys!" He called from around the corner. Soon after, the sound of the front door clicking shut echoed throughout the small flat.
Louis turned to me with a smile. "Wanna go for a pint?" He asked.
"It's one in the afternoon, Lou," I said with a chuckle. "I kind of want to just chill here."
Louis stuck his bottom lip out, making me laugh. "You're no fun."
I reached forward and gently shoved him. Of course, he had to make it all dramatic and act like he just got shot, making me laugh even more.
A few hours later, we were both seated on the sofa with beers, watching the latest football game on the telly. We talked more than we watched the programme since I was never really able to get into football as much as Louis. It wasn't really my thing, boxing more was.
I used to box professionally last year but I ended up getting suspended because I was getting 'too rough.' As in I wouldn't even box anymore, I would just get in there and have a legitimate fight which clearly wasn't a part of being a boxer. So now, I just use my free gym pass to throw some punches to the punching bag that they have there when I'm angry. I've been looking into getting one for my flat, but they're far too expensive. I can barely pay rent in this shitty place.
"Have you been taking your pills?" Louis asked, snapping me out of my thoughts. I looked over at him as he took a sip of his beer. "Yeah," I lied.
"Really? Because I found a full bottle in your nightstand drawer that was prescribed last month. Care to explain?" He raised an eyebrow at me, making me sigh in frustration.
"I have another bottle," I lied again. "I've been taking those ones."
"I can tell you're lying," he stated. I looked down at my hands, twiddling my thumbs. "Don't lie to me, Harry."
"I'm not." I said.
"Yes you are. If you took your pills you wouldn't have freaked out on me today like you did," Louis said. I could feel his eyes burning holes in the side of my head as I continued to stare down at my hands. I always felt small in Louis' presence. He was like an older sibling to me, always looking out for me and telling me what to do. "You never act like that when you take them."
I just sighed and stood up from the couch, walking around the coffee table and going into the kitchen. I hate having talks like those. I hate talking about my problems, there's too many. Yeah, sure those pills help with my anger problems but they also make me feel so.. restricted. Like I'm not allowed to have any sort of feeling towards anything.
I took a deep breath, exhaling loudly as I leaned my arms in front of me on the counter. I stared at the little pipe sitting on the granite top, a little plastic baggy of weed beside it. I creased my eyebrows as the heavy smell wafted through the air.
"Stop walking away from me when I'm trying to talk to you," I heard Louis' annoyed voice behind me.
"I don't want to talk," I replied, hint of coldness in my voice. My back was faced to him, but I heard him step closer and closer until I saw one of his tattooed arms leaned itself on the counter beside me.
"I just want to know how you're doing," he said, his voice low like he was whispering. "How's your IED?"
I thought for a moment. How was it? I hadn't thought about my anger disorder for a while. Since Louis left, I kind of just stopped caring about taking my pills and trying to get better. I was used to him being there telling me to take them. I'm not very responsible, in all honesty.
I swallowed hard before replying. "Getting worse."
"How so?" Louis' voice was soft. It was kind of weird, seeing as how he's so tough.
"I can feel myself getting mad at the most random times," I said after a moment. "I've been getting into fights with almost every person that tried to tell me how expensive John's drugs are. That's why that guy stabbed me last night."
"Ah," Louis said after I had explained to him. "You need to take your pills, Harry."
I felt myself getting angry again. I narrowed my eyes and pushed myself up from the counter, getting right in Louis' face. "Don't tell me what to do."
Louis placed his hand in the middle of my chest and pushed me back softly. "This is exactly what I'm talking about."
I growled loudly and struck my hand out, pushing him back harshly. He stumbled but didn't fall, grabbing onto the kitchen counter to steady himself. "You aren't my god damn caretaker!" I shouted.
Louis' eyes widened in surprise, but they quickly hardened. He opened his mouth, stomping forwards towards me. Just as he was about to say something, my cell phone rang from the table in the small dining room. It caught me off guard, my gaze flickering from Louis' harsh expression to the doorway attached to the kitchen, where I could see my phone screen lighting up on the cheap wooden table. Louis let out a frustrated sigh, pulling on his hair as he pushed past me and stormed towards the living room. I rubbed a hand over my face, scowling at myself for getting angry. I then walked into the small dining room and picked up my ringing phone from the table, silently hoping it was Niall. But the caller ID was unknown. I decided to answer it anyways, it could possibly be a business call.
"Hello?" I said into the receiver, more calm now.
"Is this Harry?" A deep voice on the other end said. My eyes widened as I realized who it was. I opened my mouth in shock as how that man got my number. Before I could reply, he spoke up again. "I will find you," his voice got louder. "And this time, you're dead."

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