Fooled (Larry Stylinson) ✅

21. Hopeless

Louis' POV

Louis: Hey Zayn. It's Louis. 

Zayn: Glad you texted me. It's been a few days... I was afraid you forgot about me. 

Louis: Haha, sorry I was busy with work and school. Putting together your piece actually. I finished today. Want the link?

Zayn: Sure! I'm sure you wrote something awesome

Louis: http://www.thenyspot.com/zayn_malik_artist_awards

Zayn: Thanks! I'll give it a read when I get home. So how bout the drinks?

Louis: Haha oh yeah

Zayn: U don't sound too excited...

Louis: Well... I'm gonna be honest with you -- I'm still getting over a breakup. 

Louis: I don't wanna lead you on. People have done that to me way too many times before and I know it sucks

Zayn: Oh, I understand. Breakups can be real tough. 

Zayn: I ended a four year relationship last year. It was rough.

Louis: Yeah. I mean I didn't know him that long, but it's harder than I thought it would be... Sorry if I gave you the wrong impression 

Zayn: No, that's really fine, Louis. I hope you're holding up okay. 

Louis: Yeah, thanks. I appreciate that. I just... I do want to see you, I just don't know if I'm ready yet. 

Zayn: Well I can wait. Plus, if you want we could hang out as just friends! 

Louis: That could work... wanna get lunch sometime?

Zayn: Saturday at noon work?

Louis: Too early :(

Zayn: Haha. Okay, 3pm?

Louis: Sounds good. I know a place. I'll text you the address.

Zayn: Perf! Looking forward to it. 

As I put down my phone, I wondered if I was making the right decision. It had been three weeks since Harry and I last spoke. Three weeks of me moping around in the apartment, refusing to go out to the bars with Niall, and feeling pretty much the equivalent of an airtight vacuum inside. To say I was miserable would be an understatement. 

I could blame my behavior on a bunch of things -- school, stress, family troubles, homesickness for England. But I knew I would just be lying to myself. That wasn't the truth. 

The bottom line was that I missed Harry. I craved his presence, his deep voice, his emerald eyes, the way he grabbed my ass when he kissed that day near the train... Ah. I just wanted everything, I wanted all of him, all of his energy, all of his affection, all of his time. 

And it broke me inside to know that it wasn't a possibility, that I couldn't be with Harry. That he didn't want me -- and that I shouldn't want him. 

Emotionally, all I wanted to do was run to Harry's apartment and shower him with sweet nothings and kisses and hickies. But the logical part of me wasn't on board with that plan. The logical part is what kept me from texting Harry - what kept me from doing anything really. 

It told me that Harry was a liar and I was better off without him because all he was going to do was lie and hurt me. Hurt me and lie. Fuck me up. So I decided to move on from him, to push him to the back of my mind and stop making him a priority. And I tried, I really did. But I couldn't.

In my past experience, with each passing day or week, it got easier and easier to move on from an ex. With Derek, the dude who took me on bowling dates, the first week was rough. I kept thinking about his sexy stubble and his soft brown eyes and the way he held my face and looked into my eyes before he kissed me. 

But within a month, I started to think about him less, focus on my schoolwork more, pick up new hobbies to pass the time. (Ever tried knitting? It's surprisingly fun... I made three scarfs) I even started thinking about other guys, especially when I went to the gay club one night and met this hot ginger dancer who wasn't wearing a shirt. 

But with Harry, it wasn't so simple. If anything, life was getting harder over time without him. I was missing him more-- and I couldn't figure out why. I had only been on a single date with him... maybe two if you count the encounter in the bar. And all we had done was kiss, not even get intimate... but for some reason, my emotional attachment to him was stronger than it had ever been with anyone else. 

No one else gave me butterflies the way Harry did, electrified me with their touch like he did, sent me into fits of laughter like he did. No could be my Harry, my sexy brunette rockstar with a sensitive side and a world of secrets. Liar or not, he just couldn't be replaced. Not in my book.

So since I couldn't get over Harry on my own, after trying to for weeks, I decided I had to step things up a notch. When I went to text Zayn today, I had every intention of saying yes to the date, of going with him and using that experience as a way to get  over Harry. I thought Zayn could be my crutch, my rebound, the guys who makes me feel something other than lost. 

But as I picked up my phone to send a flirty message, I quickly realized by doing that, I would be doing to Zayn exactly what Harry did to me. And that just wasn't fair. 

I liked Zayn. I found him super attractive - model-like even. And based on what he had told me in the interview, he was super sensitive and artistic and interesting. Definitely someone I wanted to get to know more. But he wasn't the boy with the long curls and the green eyes who asked me to light his cigarette on the bar terrace a handful of weeks ago. He wasn't even close. 

So I told Zayn the truth. That I wasn't over my ex. That I needed time. And now we're getting lunch as friends tomorrow. But I can't help but wonder if he has other intentions...

Maybe I should give Zayn a chance romantically after all. Who knew, maybe it would even work out?

Or maybe I shouldn't give Zayn a chance at all. Maybe I should text Harry instead. 

Conflicted, I headed to the kitchen to make some tea. I had been been eating barely a meal a day lately from stress -- or maybe it was from heartbreak -- and Niall was furious with me. I had just gone to my third therapy session last week, but the techniques my therapist gave me just weren't working. I felt nauseous everytime I thought about food, and whether that was in my head or not, I wasn't sure. 

Honestly, deep down, I really just thought it was because I didn't feel like I deserved food anymore. I didn't feel good enough. Because if I had been good enough, maybe Harry would have left Sharon by now. Maybe we would be together by now. But he hadn't and we weren't. And it eating me up inside. 

I began to boil hot water for my tea, and then reached in the fridge, really pushing myself to have something to eat. I couldn't keep doing this, keep losing weight. Niall was just going to get more upset. Sorting through the shelves, I settled on a vanilla yogurt. It was hardly anything, but it was better than nothing, and all I could stomach right now. 

I sat down at the breakfast nook, pulling out the wooden chair that Niall always tripped over or spilled on (there were still some stains we hadn't been able to get out) and opened the packaging, slowly dipping my spoon into the yogurt and bringing it to my lips. 

But I just couldn't do it. My thoughts began racing, telling me I shouldn't eat right now, and I pulled my hand away before the yogurt touched my tongue. I threw both the spoon and the yogurt on the counter in front of me, the metal clanging against the granite countertop. 

Then, I heard the door swing open and watched in horror as Niall came in to find me there at the table, with dark circles under my eyes and a baggy sweater on my torso and a mess of yogurt covering the table. 

"I... I need help, Niall," I said softly. I truly did. I just wasn't sure what to do anymore.