He exhaled and leaned back on the couch, his eyes on the ceiling. "He didn't tell you?"
"He did," she admitted. "But I want to hear it from you."
He told her what happened. He didn't feel like fighting her on this.
"Harry," she said after he had finished. She tried to keep emotions off her face, but he could tell his sister was upset for him. Her eyes bore into him with pity. "You should talk to him."
He stood up at that, unable to keep his emotions in.
"What am I supposed to say, Gemma?" He began pacing madly and raking his fingers through his hair. "I don't know how I feel, so what do I tell him?"
She stared, and he knew she wasn't sure either.
"I don't know," she started. "Maybe just be honest that you don't know how you feel?"
"What, and just take it back? Tell him I might not mean it?"
"Anything is better than nothing!" She stood now as well and pointed downstairs to Louis' apartment. "He's confused too, Harry, and he's hurt and embarrassed!"
"Are you my sister or his?" He stopped pacing now and stood directly in front of her, irritation and anger boiling to the surface. "Because, in case you haven't noticed, I am just as confused, and I don't need you coming into my apartment demanding answers about my relationship when you certainly are in no position to offer relationship advice!"
"And what is that supposed to mean?"
He laughed dryly. "Take a look at Elia! You don't even have the guts to ask her out when you so clearly want her!"
"I'm taking things slow, Harry," she said sharply. "Something you wouldn't know how to do! How selfish of you to jump into this with him when you know he isn't—"
"Oh, please!" he rolled his eyes. "He's an adult. He doesn't need you to be his watch dog!"
"Someone has to look out for him, but what would you know considering you abandoned Mum!"
He knew as soon as the words left her lips she regretted them.
His face fell and he shrank from his sister, stunned that she would bring their mother's death into this.
She continued.
"She wasn't well, and you left her alone anyway. Don't preach to me about Louis when you couldn't help her."
His lip trembled as he spoke.
"I... I didn't know," he blinked rapidly, but tears still poured from his eyes.
Now the regret hit her. They had never talked about their mother's death, and it took him ages to get to a place where he didn't blame himself. When it first happened, Harry constantly wondered how he couldn't see that their mum was sick; he shouldn't have let her leave that night.
But he realized that he should have seen it. He realized that he might have seen it if he wouldn't have left home to pursue his dreams.
She moved towards him, but he flinched away.
"I didn't mean it," she began, but he had already walked towards the door and thrown it open.
With a pause, she left.
He stood at the open door, still shocked and stared at the floor. The familiar sense of guilt and shame crept into his bones. As he stood there, he heard footsteps then saw a pair of familiar Vans on the floor in front of him.
He was shocked to see Louis standing there, his hands in a forest green hoodie, and his lips parted with surprise. He froze. He didn't want Louis to see him like this.
