I groan as the noise bursts through the white walls of my room. I consider pretending to be asleep, and to disappear under my pillow, but I know he won't hesitate to drag me out if he has to. I haul myself off my bed and trudge out of the room, my head pounding all the way. I try focus on Louis’ form, sprawled out carelessly on the couch. He has his phone in one hand and a carton of orange juice in the other.
“Is there a particular reason why you decided to swallow a microphone?” I mumble to him, sitting down on his tummy. I knock the breath out of him, and he is gasping. He pushes me off, effectively spilling some of his juice on me, and I fall toppling to the ground, landing on my bum.
I look at him sourly, and brush the droplets of orange liquid off my face.
“Well don't you look absolutely fine today.” he says, raising his eyebrows at me.
"Shut up." I mutter, massaging my temples.
"Seriously though, I mean I could convince El to let you borrow her concealer or whatever it's called. No offense mate, but those panda eyes need to go. I don't think the photographer's gonna be super happy tomorrow."
“How long did the doctor say this fever would last?” Louis asks, tapping away at his phone.
“I don’t know.” I groan. "He said it could take a while and that I need to drink more water. Why I need to go to a person with a medical degree to tell me to drink more water, I fail to understand."
Louis shakes his head. He ruffles my curls and turns on the TV. He flips through the channels until he lands on MTV, where, not surprisingly, they're playing our new single. I make a face at the way I look in one of the scenes. The song is nearly at it's end, and I sense Louis tapping his fingers along to the beat. The song changes, and as soon as it starts playing, my face drains of colour. I can feel my heartbeat rise, and I can't breathe.
I can't breathe because I know this song all too well. This is the song. The song I made a promise to. The song I made a promise that I would never leave, that I would never hurt her. But that was before she hurt me. Louis knows this song too, because he quickly switches the channel and throws me an apologetic glance.
I wave him off, trying to get control over my pounding heart. I swallow the hurt and the anger, get up, and sit next to him on the sofa. He puts his legs across my thighs, a gesture both of us have gotten used to.
I turn to look at him. His blue eyes are studying me.
“What?” I question.
“When are you going to tell me, Harry?”
I sigh softly. I try to think of something to change the topic, but my brain is dead and the only thing that surfaces to my eyes is the image of her with her makeup-stained cheeks and red nose. Louis sits up.
“Harry, it’s been five years. You can’t keep this to yourself. I mean, you guys were perfect for each other.”
I snort. “Apparently, not perfect enough.”
I was broken when I saw her kissing Sean. It tore me apart, and I remember stumbling through that house, the music blasting in my ears. The world had entered a haze, a haze I thought would never clear, because I thought we had had something special.
“Harry.” Louis says softly. I turn to look at him. “You have to tell me.” He said.
I take a deep breath. I had never told anyone what had happened between Hannah and me. Not even Louis.