Chapter 14: XIV
Summary:
Apparently long weekends are just what I needed. Two chapters in 3 days. Woo.
This is a high drama chapter. Louis hits cloud nine and rock bottom.
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Louis was still laying in Harry's bed. He definitely could have gone home the previous night, he'd only had two glasses of wine and he'd driven countless times under far worse circumstances, but Harry had insisted. They had some kind of weird harmony now when it came to sleeping arrangements. When they'd been at Louis' house, it had seemed strange that with dozens of beds that Harry kept choosing to lay in Louis', but at Harry's it made sense. There wasn't a whole lot of sleeping options, especially when Zayn had taken the couch.
Now, though, it was half nine and Harry had been awake for hours. He had been poking at Louis and giggling lightly as he scrolled through his Facebook and kept shoving his phone in Louis' face as he passed memes or cheesy jokes.
"I don't want to work today," moaned Harry, "I just want to stay in bed all day,"
Louis smiled down at Harry, who was laying sideways on the bed with his head resting on Louis' chest, "you'll survive," he teased.
"Your support is so helpful, thank-you," said Harry, dryly.
They were quiet for a moment before Harry changed the subject entirely.
"What did Matt say to you last night?" Harry had probably been holding back this question for ages, "you seemed upset," he tacked on for good measure.
"Said I was never there for him anymore," Louis answered quickly, because maybe a small part of him wanted to be reassured that he hadn't made the wrong decision not dropping everything to drive out to London.
"That's not really true, though," said Harry, "it seems like you're always there for him. You offered to get him a train ticket,"
Louis sighed, "he's right, though. It's not the same as it was...before,"
"Before, what?" asked Harry, not really knowing what he was asking of Louis.
Louis wasn't ready to answer that question. He wasn't ready to say before I tried to kill myself. Because, that really was what had changed things, wasn't it? It was Terri who had first stood back, looked at him and told him they were dysfunctional. Told Louis he deserved something more than being hate-fucked in dirty hotel rooms. That he deserved someone who cared for him. And it was Lottie, too, who against all odds and everything their family thought about him had been wounded by his suicide attempt. She had fought to have him in her life. She had fought to make him believe that she cared, and to keep her safe, he'd staved off his time with Matt.
Everyone who was good in his life seemed keen on him pushing Matt back...but it still felt wrong to him. It still felt like he was destroying another person just to make himself better. Was that really worth it? Louis still didn't see that he had much value in the grande scheme of things, so he couldn't really justify destroying Matt to have some sort of happiness. Happiness was all tainted anyway. It was all laced with contingencies and it could be taken away at any moment, and then he wouldn't even have Matt. He wouldn't have anything when the people who were trying to fight for him caught wind of what he was really worth.
"I just...before," said Louis and it didn't really answer the question. "Everything is different and I feel like I had to sacrifice him for that. It doesn't feel fair,"
"Oh Louis," said Harry, rolling his head so he was looking up at Louis now, "nothing he does was your choice," Harry's words were very serious, "you didn't sacrifice him to be happy, Louis. He could have done that with you if he cared enough,"
"Its nice of you to say that,"
"Its not nice, Louis, its true. If he cared about himself, about his health, about you, he would have changed. He would have fought to keep you, but the only thing he's fought for is to keep you as his, like, personal ATM or something,"
Harry was impassioned then, and his words were silly and Louis sputtered a small laugh at them, which seemed to ease the tension in Harry's forehead. "But I'm so good at being an ATM,"
"Are not," said Harry, sticking his tongue out.
"I am, you just don't give me the opportunity to shine,"
Harry smiled at him delicately, "but seriously, whatever happened that changed things with him, do you not feel like it's better?"
"In some ways, yes," said Louis, "but I was always all he had. Now he doesn't have anything,"
"You can't be responsible for someone else, Louis. He's an adult. He could choose to save himself and he hasn't,"
But, the one thing Harry was overlooking here was that maybe no one had ever told Matt he could save himself. No one had ever told Louis until he'd swallowed a bottle of pills and landed in a psych ward.
...
Louis had just dropped Harry off at work and was now sitting in the silent car with Zayn in the back seat. Zayn didn't really speak much unless he really thought it was worth his time. He'd said a lot last night, and it was strange to Louis because he'd never imagined him being the kind of person that made people want to open up. He was a complete idiot when it came to feelings. He was totally useless and he didn't even know how to feel his own feelings, let alone feel Zayn's or speak to them.
They were only a couple of blocks from where Zayn had instructed Louis he lived when he spoke again.
"I was talking about Liam, you know?" He had the window down and Marsha was freezing, but Zayn apparently needed a cigarette at all moments of the day.
"Oh?" Louis tried to make it sound like a question, even though he'd mostly figured it out the night before.
"Yeah," said Zayn on an exhale, "sometimes I wish it could be literally anyone else, but life's fucked, you know?"
"Yeah, I know," admitted Louis, because life being fucked was something that Louis probably knew better than most.
"We hooked up at a party last year," he began, leaning between the front seats so that Louis could hear him over the cold wind whipping around them, "and I was like...dating 3 or 4 other people," and of course supermodel Zayn was dating tonnes of people at once, it just wouldn't make sense otherwise, "and I don't know. It was different. First time it's ever been different. Maybe its because he doesn't kiss my ass and call me pretty all the bloody time, I don't know."
"Have you, like, told him?" that's what people did, wasn't it? Louis had read enough books to sort of have a grip on how dating went. Someone had to say something, right?
Zayn scoffed at his words, "my final project last year was a paining of his smile. A giant fucking paining that was pretty obviously him, and I titled it Payn for Pleasure, like a fucking play on both of our names, you know? He didn't even get it. Or he did and he didn't care," Zayn leaned back to his place, "either way, it was a fucking painting of him and he just said, 'it's really pretty Zee," Zayn chuckled darkly, "He's a clueless fucking lump,"
Louis couldn't help the laugh that fell from his lips.
He could hear the grin in Zayn's voice, "didn't realize my excruciating pain was so fucking funny,"
Louis watched Zayn in his rear-view mirror as he spoke, "well, it's just that you call him a 'clueless fucking lump'. I don't know, maybe that has something to do with it,"
"Well he is a clueless fucking lump is the thing," explained Zayn, "I don't hold it against him. I don't love him any less, but he's still a fucking moron. I suppose you wouldn't describe Harry in such harsh terms?"
Louis shook his head.
"But he might call you a clueless fucking lump though," noted Zayn, "and that's not always a bad thing. It's just a thing,"
...
Louis had dropped off Zayn and just gotten back to his place. He wasn't really sure what his family was up to, but he wanted to get back to his room and shower before he even thought about writing that English paper. He softly shut the back door as he snuck toward the staircase. He hadn't even gotten his first foot on the first stair before he heard his name.
"Louis?"
It was his mother. She was in the next room and how she even knew he was anywhere close was beyond him. He couldn't even remember the last conversation he'd had with her. The harder he tried to think of it, the more he thought that, maybe, the last thing she'd said to him was that he wasn't allowed to be around Lottie. That had been ages ago. Most of him wanted to ignore the word and slip upstairs without acknowledging it. A big part of him, though, wanted to know what he'd done, because he'd been good lately. He hadn't even gone to a party unless Harry's dinner party counted. There was honestly nothing that he could think of that would give her any reason to be upset with him, so he wanted to know what she'd found.
"Yes?" his voice was always so meek when he addressed her.
"Come in here a moment, would you?"
She was the sitting room with her MacBook on her lap. As Louis appeared in the doorway, she shut the lid in a wildly out of character gesture, providing Louis with her undivided attention. That was much more than usual. There was something really strange going on here.
"Dan tells me you're on the honours list,"
Louis bit his lip. He didn't know what was happening here. She was still looking at him.
"Is that true? Are you still attending classes this late into the semester?"
Louis gave her one small nod. He never really knew how to speak to her. Especially not like this, when there was nothing distracting her from meeting his eyes. She looked...so regal, sitting in the middle of the room, addressing her messed up son. Louis felt small. He always felt small in her presence, which was most of the reason why he tried to sneak around unnoticed.
She held his gaze for a moment, "very well," she said, opening the computer again and returning her attention to it, "I'd like it if you kept that up,"
She was dismissing him. He was free, now, to run away and attempt to analyze what the fuck had just happened. He tucked his tail between his legs and dashed out of the room and up the stairs.
The second he laid down on his bed, he felt his face break into a giant grin. The thing was, he really wanted to be mad. He wanted to hate his mother. She was perfectly deserving of such an emotion, but he couldn't find it, because something he'd done—something positive had gotten her attention. She'd spoken to him about something other than drugs in the laundry. Something other than bitching about paying his bail or giving him money for speeding tickets and leaving the country without permission. Something other than her having to pay for lawyers to get him out of yet another DUI.
The thing was, Louis had spent his entire life trying to keep quiet but making noise every once in a while so she could see him, to remember that he was there. He'd been dramatic and he'd chased every sort of dragon to try and get her to remember she had a son, but this was the first time he could ever remember that she'd seen him without the theatrics. He'd tried to kill himself and she still hadn't seen it...but now good things were happening in his life and she saw him. She shut her computer and met his eyes (her eyes—he had her eyes) and given him a fleeting and brief moment of her time, but a moment none the less and Louis had been waiting maybe his entire life for that moment.
And the thing was, he knew that it was really nothing. It was probably nothing to her. He should have hated the woman for countless reasons, but he couldn't find the emotion anywhere in him. He wanted to wipe his smile away, but it was resilient. He couldn't stop it.
Instinctively, he wanted to share the feeling with someone. He pulled out his phone and started to compose a text to Harry.
Louis: First of all, don't do that thing where you pity me. Don't make this sad, because I'm really not sad.
He sent the first one quickly and started to tap out the next message.
Louis: I know, its just a small dumb thing, but my Mum talked to me. Like...she wasn't mad. She just talked to me.
He sent it, the smile still stuck in place.
Harry was still at work so he didn't expect there to be an immediate response, but he was still kind of waiting for it. He was buzzing on some feeling he'd never actually felt before. He really couldn't put his finger on it, maybe because it was brand new, but she'd seen him. She'd seen him do something right and she'd...maybe(?) encouraged him? Louis had spent 20 years both trying to avoid her gaze and craving it more than anything else and now he had it. He made her look at him and it wasn't negative. Rather, it was everything he'd wanted it to be all those times before.
All the years he'd spent trying to prove to her that he could scream the loudest, fuck things up the most, be the baddest, they were all just kind of wasted, now weren't they? He'd wanted to give her a list of reasons to hate him to help himself understand it, but maybe he'd been wrong. Maybe that wasn't what she needed at all. Maybe she just needed him to be good. To prove that he wasn't a permanent black spot on their family's name. Maybe, because she hadn't always loved him like she had the others, he just needed to prove himself. He needed to prove that he was more than just a memory of her teenaged mistakes, that 20 years of raising her accident wasn't all in vain.
Maybe there was some kind of hope here.
And Louis knew more than anyone else in the world how dangerous hope was. Terri had been trying to make him hope since the day he'd walked through her door, but he'd resisted because he didn't want to expect things. He'd lived his whole life knowing better than to expect things. Knowing that he was the exception to most things. That he was unworthy of the things other people took for granted.
But now, it seemed like everywhere he looked, there was hope. He was filled with it, and he knew it was dangerous, but he was addicted.
Eventually, Louis managed to wipe the manic smile from his face and he got into the shower. He brushed his teeth and fixed his hair, styling his fringe back from his face and he got dressed. There was something really strange fluttering in his veins, and everything for a really long time had just been good. Even the bad moments had been eclipsed by good. Sure, he was still thinking about his phone call with Matt, and the pride that had glittered in Harry's eyes when he'd said 'no' to him. He was still struggling with the knowledge that either he or Harry had to have been wrong. Either he'd done the right thing, or he'd done the absolute worst thing. He wasn't sure whatsoever. Either Harry was cruel and wanted the wrong things for otherwise innocent people who had had a rough go of life, or Louis was wrong to regret his decision. He didn't know who he wanted to be right because, even if Harry was right, he still felt like shit. He still let Matt down. He'd still left him in a dark place and a dangerous situation and he'd still chosen himself over Matt's safety.
It was a lot to take in.
When he returned to his bed, he picked up his phone. There still wasn't a text from Harry, but surprisingly, he wasn't lacking notifications. There were three texts from Zayn.
Zayn: Thought about what you said, but I shouldn't have to tell him, you know? He should just know. That's how the good romances go, right?
Zayn: In other news, Liam's being a tit. He doesn't want to come over and watch me paint and drink Brandy.
Zayn: Don't suppose at some point tonight when I run out of anger at him you'd want to go out for midnight coffee or something? (Being mad at him is what inspires me to paint). Let me know...
Wow, wow, wow.
Louis' life was just a series of wins these days, wasn't it? Zayn of all people, the completely quiet and mysterious and unaffected friend of Harry and Niall's had taken a shining to him—maybe? He wanted to mark this day down in the history books. It would probably go right next to the page where Harry had chased him down in the hall and brought him a tea the next day. There was a lot to take note of these days. There was a lot of good out there in the world that for some reason was suddenly attracted to Louis.
He texted back a yes immediately. Zayn was a bit of a nighthawk, and he probably wasn't going to text Louis until he was already nearly asleep, but he'd wake up. He'd make the time.
He was scrolling back through his and Harry's Instagram when when his phone lit up with Harry's face on it. He slid the answer button and pressed the phone to his ear.
"Hey, Curly, how's work?" Louis' voice was light and happy, "did you get my text?"
Harry's voice was not light or calm or happy. It was heavy and harsh, "haven't had a chance to read it," there was something weird happening because this wasn't Harry. This wasn't how he spoke to Louis, "listen," he started, "I don't know what to do,"
"What?" said Louis, not following Harry's train of thought at all.
"I don't know if I want you to come here or if I should just handle it myself," he said, and it sounded like he was whispering.
"What are you talking about?"
"I.." he sighed, "Matt just showed up here and he's a bit...fucked,"
All of those good feelings Louis had brewing inside of him a moment ago turned sinister. Why on earth would Harry ever think to assume that he should handle Matt on his own? That didn't make any sense. Of course Louis had to go. He had to go and take Matt away and give him whatever it was he needed to stay away from Harry. It was just what he had to do.
"I'm leaving now,"
"No—just," Harry really didn't sound himself, "I think I can handle it. I should be fine. I shouldn't have called. Just finish your paper and I'll call you on my break,"
Harry disconnected the call then without another word. Louis stared at the screen, debating calling him back and warning him to stay away. If it weren't for Louis, Harry would never have had to deal with Matt. It was Louis' fault that he was exposed to someone so toxic and he had to take responsibility for that. He owed Harry. The only reason Matt even knew where Harry worked was because Louis went there in his stupidly flashy and recognizable car.
He jumped out of his bed quickly and flew back down the stairs, not even attempting to be quiet this time.
It took too fucking long to drive from his stupid fucking lane into town, and Louis knew it. He knew that the half hour it took to get there was too much and that Harry was now already buried in a steaming pile of Matt's shit and he hated himself from not just fucking preventing this whole thing. If he would have just gone to London, if he would have just picked him up when Matt had begged him, this never would have happened. He would never have had to attempt to pull his two worlds apart.
Almost immediately, when he walked through the door, he saw them. There was a drink in one of Matt's hands as he leaned on the hand-off plane, his whole body slack. He did looked fucked up. It was in all of his gestures. Neither him nor Harry turned to acknowledge that the door had chimed.
"He's not as stupid as everyone thinks, you know," it was Matt's voice.
Harry was even tempered as he glared daggers at Matt's slumped body, "literally no one thinks he's stupid,"
"Point is," Matt slurred his words. Maybe he was drunk, "he knows what people want from him. He knows you just want him to get you a good grade and buy you nice things,"
Harry shook his head at Matt like he was a child who had spoken out of turn, "not that it's any of your business, I never let Louis buy me things. I never expect that he will. He might be smarter than me, but we've both worked for our grades," Harry ran a frustrated hand through his curls, "not that I owe you a fucking explanation,"
Matt was laughing then, hiccups escaping between each breath he took, "sorry, I forgot Harry With The Hair was so fucking high and mighty," he put his drink back down on the counter, "but you don't know him like I do. He's just as bad as I am, you know. That boy has fucked with every drug in the book, sweetheart, and let me just tell you a little story about addicts," he gripped the counter with both hands, leaning closer to Harry, "the drugs always win," he said in a strange staccato.
He was wrong, though. Louis wasn't addicted to anything. He didn't even miss it, not like Matt would if he walked away.
"You don't know him," Harry's voice was icy and Louis honestly didn't think he'd ever heard such a cold tone from him.
Matt laughed, "oh, I know him. And I know what you want, and he can't give that to you. He's too hung up on his Mummy. He doesn't know how to be with someone,"
Harry was biting his lip so hard Louis could only imagine he was tasting blood.
"I mean, tell me, does he know?" Matt started again, "does he even have a fucking clue what your puppy dog eyes mean? You can't fix someone like Louis, you know. He doesn't get it. He'll never get it,"
Louis really wasn't sure if he wanted them to look up and see him, or if he wanted to let Harry handle it, because he'd missed such a large portion he couldn't even understand what they were arguing about by this point.
"I'm not going to ask you again to leave," said Harry.
"I was there first, you know?" Matt hiccuped again Loudly, "I was the one who gave him attention. I was the one who brought him to parties, to introduce him to people. He was mine before he'll ever be yours,"
"He's a person, he's not yours," argued Harry.
"Now? Now he doesn't want to be mine anymore, and I don't know what I did," there was some kind of pain behind the words, but Louis never knew with Matt whether it was genuine or manipulative, "he tried to kill himself to get away from me, and now? Now he's trying to kill me to run away with you. That hardly seems fair,"
Louis felt something horrible drip into his stomach. Matt had just said words that Louis had been keeping from Harry this whole time. How many days had he gone over and over in his head how to tell Harry about that? And now Matt had used it as a way to attack Harry and it was just too much. Louis wanted to melt into the floor. Wanted to be anything else but the idiot standing there watching this happen.
Harry hesitated, no doubt processing the words Matt had just said. Louis was trying to will his feet to move. He wasn't brave enough to stand there. Not anymore. Now Harry knew the biggest, ugliest and darkest secret that he'd tried to keep wrapped up behind dozens of other skeletons in the back of his walk-in closet. There were a million things that Louis had told Harry, and maybe a billion more that he wanted to tell him eventually, but this? This was too much and it wasn't his choice and the whole thing was just so unfair. He was supposed to be able to control this.
Matt caught onto Harry's hesitation instantly, "oh, he didn't tell you, did he?" he laughed once, "I bet you thought you knew everything there was to know about our little Louis, but you haven't really got a fucking clue, have you?"
Harry sucked in a breath, trying to school his expression. He shifted his gaze from Matt then and that's when he saw Louis, standing there like the useless idiot he was, offering nothing to the conversation. Harry's eyes were heavy and he looked sad, sad like he always got for Louis. Sad in the way Louis hated. Sadness mixed with Louis' least favourite emotion—pity.
"What I do know," started Harry, slowly and evenly, "is that you are a monster of a person. I know that you use him for money and drugs and a way to kill time so you don't have to think about how fucked up you are, but him? He's nothing like you. You're not the same. You are broken, and Louis can't save you,"
Louis watched as Harry's words hit Matt. He didn't react. He never reacted in the moment. Matt would never let someone see that they'd cut him. He'd save the words for later while he licked his wounds. So he bit back quickly with more ludicrous accusations.
"Does Louis even know, Harry With The Hair? Do you think he'll ever know? Do you think he'll ever really get it?" Matt laughed once, "I can't believe I'm here doing this," he swatted the drink he'd place on the counter, spilling it all over and splashing it on Harry, "I can't believe I'm fighting for Louis fucking Tomlinson against some dopey doe-eyed kid who thinks he can save him. Damage is done, Harry, Louis is what he is and you falling in love with his mess isn't going to change that,"
"You need to leave," Harry was speaking through gritted teeth, "I told you I'd call the police,"
"Oh, I'd love to be there, Harry With The Hair, the day you tell him you want to fuck. The day you realize how much of a horrible mistake you made chasing after his pathetic ass," Matt straightened a bit, seemingly more sober the angrier he got, "here's some free advice," he began, "save yourself the effort, get a fleshlight. It's a lot more exciting. Probably cries less too," he tacked on for good measure.
Harry turned then, rage in his body language and ripped the phone off the wall behind him pressing it to his ear, "Yes," he said as evenly as he could, "I'm calling from Starbucks. I need you to send an officer to have a customer removed from the store,"
Once Harry hung up the phone Matt laughed again, "It's cute you think I'm afraid of police. You know where they feed you for free? Give you pillows and everything?" his smile was sinister, "and I know you think you know how this goes, but you're wrong. This is the real world, Harry With The Hair, and good guys don't win here. Trust me from twenty-two years of experience,"
Matt turned then, brushing passed Louis as he made his escape, "he's a real fucking prince, Louis, great choice." He paused then beside Louis, reaching down and grabbing his hand, "let's get out of here,"
Over and over in his head Louis kept hearing Matt tell his secret. He kept hearing the words 'he tried to kill himself' and his skin burned where Matt was touching him. There was anger boiling just below his skin. Matt had done a million wrong things in his life, in his time without Louis—but he'd never before really betrayed Louis. He'd never shared their secrets. Now, though, now Harry knew it all.
And Louis couldn't deal with that. He couldn't just live with that knowledge being out in the world. He'd spent two months trying to be better, trying to keep Harry from his past and now it was all gone. In one fit of rage, Matt had taken it all from him. Now Harry knew he was suicidal. Now he had yet another reason to pity him. Now he knew all the things that Louis had probably never really been willing to share.
And the sex? Oh, God, he was mortified. He could just barely talk about it with Terri, and she'd been there. She'd been through the same thing...and now Harry? Harry knew that he'd slept with Matt. That he cried through it like the pathetic child he was. There wasn't going to be a way to come back from it. There wasn't going to be a way to erase all of this knowledge from Harry's mind.
And the worst part of all was that Louis, really and truly had wanted to tell him. He'd wanted to be ready to tell him. He'd wanted to share all of the fucked up parts of himself with Harry and Matt had ruined it. He had torn all the secrets from him and thrust them into the daylight. It wasn't fair, and Louis was used to things not being fair, but it wasn't supposed to be like that with Harry. He was supposed to be on the right track with Harry. Harry was supposed to be his redemption.
Now he didn't know what to do.
He didn't know if he could ever really face Harry again.
The only thing he did know was that he wasn't leaving with Matt. Not in a million years. Not after that level of betrayal.
He ripped his hand away from Matt's with more aggression than he ever knew he had inside of him, "those were my secrets," and his voice was a mixture of hurt and anger for being forsaken by the only person who knew all of his secrets. The person he'd trusted enough to create them in the first place. Matt may have done a million things wrong in his life, but Louis had still given himself to him, and now Matt had just tossed that aside like it wasn't sacred, and maybe nothing about Louis was sacred, but he didn't care. He was mad. "You had no right," and despite the fact that he felt like he was breaking from the inside out, he sounded strong. it was something that he had never thought he could describe himself as.
Matt hesitated for a moment, not really knowing how to process the change in Louis. He'd never been so forceful, so direct. He'd never pushed for anything, let alone pushed someone away. It felt right though. It felt like there was no other choice. There was too much happening inside of Louis, and how dare he have let himself feel guilty for wronging Matt. Matt was willing to throw him under any bus that passed by. He didn't deserve Louis' respect.
There must have been enough rage in Louis' eyes for Matt to clue in. He didn't try to say anything else. He didn't try to snatch his hand back either. He just turned and slammed open the door, making his leave.
And then it was time for Louis to face Harry. To face all of his misplaced pity and all of the judgement he'd surely have for learning that Louis had chosen Matt of all people as a sexual partner. It was a mess. If it had been weeks before, Louis wouldn't have hesitated. He would have run before Harry even got a word out. He would have pushed back. He would have tried to break it before anyone else had the chance, but he was still standing there. A really big part of him wanted to choose the running option. It was the most dominant part. It was easier. He still had Terri, Lottie. Maybe he could live without the lifeline he'd found in Harry. That would certainly be easier than facing the mess Matt had made for him.
He glanced up at Harry then. He was staring over the counter at Louis and it looked like he was on the brink of tears and Louis didn't get it. It wasn't the reaction he'd expected.
In a gesture that was wildly out of character and worked against their entire dynamic, Louis crossed the room and stood in front of Harry, "we should probably talk about some of that,"
Harry was nodding, but he wasn't saying anything. He was right on the verge of breaking down and Louis didn't know what he'd do. He didn't know if he could possibly handle Harry breaking down. He'd never seen it. He didn't know what it would be like...and he knew it wasn't fair to hesitate like this, because how many times had Harry plucked him right off the ledge and brought him back to reality?
"Harry?"
"I'm—" Harry sucked in a deep breath, "I hate him. I'm sorry and I tried and I know he's your friend and I have no right to tell you this, but I fucking hate him. I don't—I want to ask you not to see him anymore. I know I can't do that, but I want to. He doesn't deserve you,"
Louis' chest shook as he inhaled, "can you take a break? Come to the car with me?"
Harry dropped a towel over the mess that Matt had made and nodded, pulling his apron over his head. He met Louis by the door and Louis couldn't actually believe what he was doing. He wasn't sure if it was bravery or stupidity. But there was a significant lack of nerves in his stomach and that was alarming in it's own right.
When they had taken their spots inside of Marsha they were both quiet. Harry wasn't looking at him and Louis could only hope it wasn't because he was disgusted. He just kept going over and over in his mind how the whole thing had played out. How Matt had ruined every little bit of progress he'd made with Harry.
"I know you probably want an explanation," started Louis, "and..." Harry's hand found his then, even though he looked like he was on the brink of breaking, he was trying to comfort Louis and that was just too much. Louis didn't deserve him. There was no way, "it's true," and then the rest of the words fell from his mouth like he was Victoria Falls and he couldn't stop them, "it was about a week before school started and I promise I was going to tell you, Harry. I want to tell you everything, but I just didn't know how. I didn't know if I was ready, and I still don't think I am, and I'm sorry for that. I want to tell you things, I really do, but some of them are just a lot,"
"Louis, I..." Harry had no idea how to finish his sentence, Louis could see that. There were a lot of things that hadn't been said between them yet and now Matt had fucked it all up. Now there were a million things Harry wasn't going to want to stick around to hear and Louis didn't want that.
Louis huffed loudly, "it's just," he couldn't look at Harry so he stared at his hands, "I told you what it was like for me growing up. I had no one. I never had anyone, just, like, my Gran and her books and all I wanted was someone. It's like...I had no idea what love was—I still don't, I guess, but when you're just this broken little kid and someone finally like, looks at you like that, I just—" Louis hands were shaking and he couldn't fucking believe he was talking about this. With Harry and not Terri and it just kept coming. "I was wrong I guess, about all of it. But I kind of got lost in it—in him and I never had someone to tell me it was fucked up. I didn't know that I wasn't supposed to feel so fucking bad all the time. I just—I honestly thought he loved me," he paused then, daring to meet Harry's eyes, "I know that, that probably doesn't make sense to you...but I haven't ever really had a clue what I'm doing,"
"Oh, Louis," and there was that strong pity in the back of Harry's words and it was still the very worst thing that Louis could name, "anyone would be lucky to get to love you,"
"You're doing that thing I hate," said Louis. They'd spoken about this before. He'd told Harry he hated his pity, "you feel bad for me,"
Harry's bottom lip quivered a little and his sad expression didn't change, but as Louis inhaled the cool air he kind of felt okay. He was probably going to make it through this, and it kind of felt like maybe he and Harry would make it through. Something about getting it off his chest seemed to have lightened the pressure on his chest and he just kind of felt like...Louis again.
"You okay, Curly?"
"Never in my life, until I met you, did I ever imagine that something that happened to someone else could hurt this much,"
"Harry,"
"No," said Harry, trying to compose his expression, "I just need you to know. It hurts and I didn't expect it. I know you're always okay, that you're going to tell me its nothing and that you're used to it, but that isn't right. Matt had everything and he just fucking broke it. He just kept breaking you and I didn't think that knowing that would hurt So. Fucking. Much."