Together (Larry Stylinson) ✅

Peace

Harry's POV 

"Hey, thanks for inviting me out tonight," I say with a smile. I'm sitting across Niall at our favorite American diner in Queens sipping on a milkshake like old times. I feel guilty, of course, but not as much. Therapy has been helping, and I've been challenging myself to be more lenient on myself and allowing myself to eat what I want -- not what seems healthiest. 

"No, problem mate," Niall says, grabbing a fry. "I'm glad to see you in good spirits this week." I smiled. Since I last saw -- if you count our two minute interaction as 'seeing' him -- Louis two months ago, things have been really rough for me, and Niall has been there through it all. He's consoled me when I spent hours on the floor crying and blaming myself for everything. He's stopped me from damaging my stuff when I went through fits of rage over how mad I was at Louis. He even got me to see a nutritionist in tandem with my current therapist to double up on recovery efforts. 

Honestly, I owed him so much. 

But as I've started to feel better in recent weeks, the weight of my frustration with Lou lessening more and more, I have been trying really hard to be a good friend to Niall too. I went out with his girlfriend again, this time sober, and worked really hard at getting to know her. It turns out she did a year abroad in Cheshire and actually went to school with my mate's younger brother, which I found to be pretty hilarious -- especially because she described him perfectly: a sloppy drunk with a big hard and an incomprehensible cockney accent.

Now, as Niall and I munched on diner food, I tried my best to listen to his stories, to hear him out. I wanted to make things equal. I wanted to show him that I can take care if him too if he ever needs it. Because that's what friends do. 

But I'd be lying if I said a small part of my mind wasn't still focused on Lou. Wasn't still hoping he would come back into my life. My training program was ending soon and I had to make the decision to stay in New York or return to California in the next two weeks. Without considering Lou, I would go back to California in a heart beat. But there was a tiny part of him that wondered .... what if he came back? What if I lost him again?

But, no. Niall and I had talked it over time and time again. Same with my therapist. And we all agreed that Louis wasn't available, that I wasn't losing him -- he was losing me. He lost himself, and everyone else in his life too. And it's not my responsibility to help him. I already tried so many times. Now it's up to him.

That's what I tell myself at least. Of course, I wish I could help him -- of course I still want to. But honestly, I've done all I can. Now it's up to him. 

"Thanks!" I said cheerily, returning back to reality to answer Niall's question. "I do  feel quite chipper. Wanna head back to my flat for video games?" I asked, gesturing for the check. There was nothing left on either of our plates but french fry crumbs and bits of that decorative lettuce. 

"Sure. Madden?" Niall asked, readying his wallet. 

"I got this," I said, laughing and grabbing the check as the waiter came over with it. 

Niall giggled. "Wow, Styles. Are we dating now?" he asked, making a dramatic face and batting his eyelashes. I snorted. 

"In your fucking dreams, Horan," I giggled, placing down the cash and grabbing for my coat. 

Niall rolled his eyes. "You're a tease," he said with a laugh. 

I shook my head and then exited the booth, heading towards the door. Niall followed after me and we walked outside to catch the subway. Luckily, it was just around the corner, so we didn't have to walk far. It was April now, so the weather was rather warm, but the temperatures dropped at night. 

"Oh my god! You bloody cheater," Niall screamed about an hour later, as we sat side by side on my sofa playing Madden in our sweatpants. Niall and I were such good friends that he kept sweatpants at my house for occasions just like these because, well, there's no other way to play videogames but in your sweats. 

"I am not!" I giggled back,  though I had clearly hit a control that activated a glitch to stall Niall's players while I made a pass. He was just about to slap me when I heard a knock at the door-- my saving grace. 

"We didn't get delivery did we?" I asked, confused as to why someone would be knocking on the door at my flat. I rarely got visitors, and my neighbors were so infrequently around that they barely existed in my eyes. Who was it, then?

The knock was getting louder now, more aggressive. So I quickened my pace, nearly slipping on the hardwood floors in my socks. 

"Who is it?" I asked, swinging the door open. 

Instantly, my jaw dropped. 

Lou was standing there in the doorway with nothing but a backpack, wearing a white T-shirt and joggers. He stared at me, his blue eyes intense and stubble coating his sharp jawline. 

"Fuck," I breathed, unsure what to say. I stood frozen in place, staring at him in astonishment. My heart was beating rapidly and I blinked a few times just to make sure it was real. 

To my surprise, Louis didn't say anything. He just walked towards me, dropping his backpack on the floor and burying me in a deep hug. 

As I hugged him back, all of the rage and anger and sadness I had been experiencing over the past few months seemed to melt away, fading into the air around me as if it never existed. His strong arms pulled me closely, and suddenly, nothing else seemed to matter. It was just Lou and I, two bodies, once damaged but now strong, united in the doorway of my New York City flat. 

I didn't need to say anything -- he didn't need to say anything. We both just knew. This is what felt natural, this is what felt like home. It always has been home -- even when we were miles apart, months apart, years apart. This is where we would always return to.  

This was love.