Back Home | Larry Stylinson ❀

Chapter 9

Harry's nose crinkles.

"History. I liked it. Soft and reminiscent. Kind of made me think about all the trouble the lads and us got in to back in the day." Louis smiles despite all the nerves running through his veins. He's one step closer to Harry, a couch behind his body that he leans against. "Lights Up seems like a story you're trying to tell the world, something about yourself. Kind of like a secret you want to share. Similar to End of The Day, that maybe the narrative surrounding you isn't what it's supposed to be. Seems like you're pretty obvious about that, huh?"

"Maybe," Harry mumbles under his breath. He still hasn't looked up from the ground.

"I thought Stockholm Syndrome was about some new kinky thing you had. I'm still debating it, but I am considering it's more about the restraints you wear with your label and management," Louis continues. Harry hums, a small sign of agreeing. "Sweet Creature is just blatantly about me. Not to sound narcissistic, but it reminded me of when we first got together. Young love, if you will. And Sunflower. I remember how we used to dance in the kitchen together and just feel so carefree with each other. It's nice." Louis steps away from the couch, walking towards the clothes rack and mindlessly sorting through all the shiny outfits that are hung. "All your songs are good, Harry. Everything about it reminds me of something of your past or something you want to tell about the life you have now."

Once he's gone through all the outfits, he steps away, lingering in front of Harry. His green eyes are beginning to shimmer. "I was in here, but I heard Hey Angel. And Kiwi - which, Kiwi is quite the rockstar song. N idea what it means, but it was fun. I bet everyone was having a blast out there."

"What'd you think of Hey Angel?" Harry questions, voice cracking.

Louis blows out a breath of air. He hasn't had much time to think about the lyrics because his mind was still processing to the new song, but he heard enough. A few lyrics stuck out like a sore thumb for him, and it's adding to the list of things that concern him.

"I think ... this world you're now living in is fucked up." Louis blinks, catching Harry's eyes. "And I worry about what's been happening to you all these years for you to write a song about talking to angels. That's quite ... intense."

Harry blinks, and all the tears he's been holding back starts to roll down his cheek. He looks away, chin ducking down to his chest and fingers clenching tightly to the vanity he's leaning against. All these minor things Louis has picked up during the week they spent together, he's becoming highly aware that something is not okay. With this song, and a few others, it's a clear indication that there is a burden weighing on Harry's life. Something bad and terrible, causing him to not eat food, to crawl back into his shy shell and scream for help through his songs.

Louis thought he was over thinking things, but now, he sees everything. Clear as day. Maybe these past three years have not been as good to him as he though.

"Are you okay?" he ends up asking, voice softening. "I mean - these people who work with you - for you - are they harming you?"

"I'm fine."

Louis shakes his head. "You know, I've been watching you all week, and there is no way in bloody hell that you're fine."

"Louis, please." Harry sighs, so tired, slouching. He blinks, eyes now rimmmed red, bottom lip wobbling. Any second the band will come look for him. It's a matter of time before this conversation will get interrupted, but Louis is not ready for that to happen. He wants to finish what has been started. "I'm fine. Okay? Drop it. Who cares?"

"Who cares?" Louis mocks, placing his hands on his hips. "Harry, your songs are anything but okay. You're hurting, broken, trying to find a way out. I can hear it. I can see it. How have these three years treated you so terrible? What are these people doing to you? You're not okay, Harry. You can't hide that from me."