Chapter 16: XVI
Summary:
I listened to a lot of City and Colour while writing this chapter, and Louis' song is What Makes a Man?
Listen, listen, listen!
Next update will probably not be for ages (I know I said that last time, but I wrote this whole bloody chapter in a day), but I mean it for real this time. It's almost time for round two of Ed Sheeran in Montreal and IM EXCITED.
Thank you, as always, you're all the best <3
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
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Louis heard a knock on his door. He paused his reading briefly to contemplate his options. He could call out and see who it was, but he didn't feel like risking it. He didn't feeling embarrassing himself by opening his mouth. He glanced at the door. He could also have gotten up and silently opened it, giving himself the power to slam it if he didn't like who was on the other side.
But the most attractive option was for him to stay exactly as he was on the floor, surrounded by Bukowski and his other favourites. He didn't actually want to talk to anyone. He had too much to work through. Which was stupid, because shouldn't he be old hat when it came to being disappointed at this point?
He stared at the page, eyes flitting across the words, but he wasn't absorbing them. He just kept hearing his mother over and over as she crushed his dreams. He felt like a fucking idiot. He'd let himself hope that things would be different, but she still didn't have a clue who he was. She still saw all the wrong things and he wasn't going to be able to change that.
The knock came again, but he didn't change his resolve. He stayed planted on the floor, his body facing away from the door and his books attempting to act as a make-shift sanctuary.
It had been hours, now, since he'd been brought back down to earth with his mother's words. Since they'd made that brief second of eye contact as she'd tried to convince his sister--his only ally in this house--that he was shit. She obviously didn't care that he'd heard. If they had been any other family in the world, she'd would have sought him out to apologize or explain herself, but they were strangers. She'd let him walk away. Of course she had and he had no reason to expect differently of her.
Two hours ago, he might have been stupid enough to let himself hope that it was her knocking on his door, and he might have even opened it, too. But now? Now he knew the truth about everything. Now he'd been reminded of exactly how the world saw him, so fuck that. He wasn't going to answer the door. He was done putting himself out there into the world. What a stupid mistake that had been in the first place.
The knock came again. He contemplated just asking them to leave, but he couldn't stand the possibility of listening to his own weak voice telling whoever it was to sod-off. It was probably Lottie, anyway, and he needed time. He'd be ready to face her soon enough, but right then, he wasn't.
"Lou?"
Well, that wasn't Lottie's or his mother's voice. It was Harry. Harry was standing outside of his bedroom, and Louis didn't have a clue what to do with this information.
He didn't respond. He just stared at the book in his hands blankly. Harry's voice came again, along side a softer knock.
"Lou, I'm going to come in, okay?"
"Okay," he finally responded.
Harry opened the door slowly and walked into the room, closing it softly behind him. Louis turned around to face him.
"Hey," said Harry, a smile on his face that wasn't touching his eyes at all.
"How'd you get here?" And Louis didn't mean for the question to come out so strained, or to make Harry feel like he'd done something wrong, but the guilt that flashed in his green eyes said that Louis had done just that.
"Uh, your mum let me in," he explained softly, "I borrowed Niall's car because I wanted to surprise you," he swallowed hard, "is it a bad time?"
Part of Louis wanted to tell Harry what had happened, but a bigger part of him was ashamed that he had fucked up bad enough for most of his life that his sobriety wasn't even believable. He really didn't want Harry to think for the millionth time that Louis was living the saddest, most pathetic life possible. He was getting really sick of Harry feeling bad for him.
"Uh," started Louis, hesitating as he looked up at Harry from the floor. He shook his head softly, "no. Just some mum stuff. Not a bad time."
Harry gave him a look of warning, like he was challenging Louis' story, but he didn't ask, so Louis didn't tell.
"You want to sit?" Asked Louis.
Harry nodded and took a seat next to Louis. He immediately rested his head on Louis shoulder.
"Thought you were working," noted Louis softly.
"It was dead so they sent me home a couple of hours ago so I decided to make you a surprise. I didn't realize you weren't feeling great,"
"'M fine," lied Louis. He was a little bit closer to 'fine' now, though, with Harry there.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Offered Harry in a soft voice as he linked his arm through Louis' and continued to lean on his shoulder.
"Absolutely not,"
Harry laughed softly under his breath, "well if you change your mind, 'm here,"
Louis was quiet then, staring down at the book in his hand. Harry's timing was either absolutely horrible or impeccable and Louis wasn't sure which, but it was almost too good.
"Did Lottie talk to you?"
To his credit, Harry sounded genuinely confused, "no, why?"
Louis shrugged, "your timing's fishy is all. Waltzing in here with promises of surprises right in the middle of a shit day,"
"First of all, you just said you were fine. Second of all, I wanted to surprise you because you're Louis Tomlinson and you happen to be my favourite person in the world and you deserve all the surprises,"
"You know so little of what I deserve," Louis joked feebly, because there was a lot of truth behind his words. Harry knew next to nothing about Louis' true colours. "Besides which, how would your mum and Niall feel if they heard you say I'm your favourite?"
Harry squeezed his arm tighter and brushed his nose against Louis' neck, "it's different, though, with you, Lou,"
"Different, how?" Louis managed to ask, because he was ready to be distracted now. He didn't want to think about his mum or Christmas or Spain. He leaned his head on top of Harry's.
"Because you make me feel things my mum and Niall never will. You're special,"
Louis wanted to fill the space with a million excuses of why he wasn't special and why Niall and Harry's mum deserved to be the favourites. But he also wanted to be the favourite, so he shut up.
"I can't believe you haven't even asked me what your surprise is," Harry said after the silence had stretched passed the point of being uncomfortable.
"What's my surprise, Curly?"
"Well, I borrowed Niall's car so Marsha could have a break. Also maybe so that I get to decide when you can leave," Harry smiled up at him at that, "and I made us a special picnic spot in my room so it's just us," Harry's eyes were glittering with pride as he announced his plan, "and I made us sushi,"
Louis smiled back at the shear excitement behind Harry's announcement, "you made sushi?"
"Vegetarian sushi," Harry amended, "I don't fully trust my ability to handle raw fish,"
"Don't know what I did to deserve you," joked Louis.
"You know so little of what you deserve," Harry fired back at him, nudging his nose against Louis' jaw and grinning up at him.
Harry got to his feet then, reaching his hand out to Louis, "come on, then, Cheekbones, we've got a sushi bedroom picnic waiting for us,"
...
When they got to Harry's flat, Zayn and Liam were sitting on opposite sides of Niall. Zayn was mumbling about how little he cared about football while Niall and Liam played FIFA loudly. Louis felt himself brighten a bit while he watched them and Harry took of his boots. Zayn turned then, half smiling when he met Louis' eyes.
"My night in shining armour," Zayn said slowly to Louis, "you've come to save me from the stupidest video game in creation."
"Nope," said. Harry quickly, grabbing Louis' hand and tugging him toward his bedroom, "Louis is all mine tonight."
"No fair," Zayn called after them, "you never share. You're worse than a preschooler."
He and Harry laughed as they moved out of Zayn's sightline. Harry hadn't dropped Louis' hand as he led them toward his bedroom. He pushed open the door and Louis felt something warm settle into his chest. Harry had pushed his bed out of the way, so there was an adequate amount of floor space for the huge plaid blanket he'd laid out perfectly smoothly on the floor. On top of the blanket were plates and chopsticks and condiments. There was a bottle of sake in the centre (Louis despised sake, but he'd choke it back for Harry).
"Harry," there was a hint of longing in his voice and he just felt really warm and happy inside of his chest because Harry had done all of this for him. And he hadn't even known that Louis was having a bad day. He would have done just the same on a normal day and there was something really special about that.
"Do you like it?"
I love it was on the tip of Louis' tongue, but he still felt a weird sort of detachment from the word. He still felt like he wasn't quite qualified to properly use it in a sentence.
"It's perfect," he said instead.
Harry tugged Louis in for a quick but firm hug, "sit," he urged when he pulled away, "I'll grab the food,"
...
The food was long gone and Louis and Harry were halfway through the bottle of sake, still sitting on the floor, but they were no longer across from each other. They both had their backs leaned against Harry's bed, and Harry had tucked Louis into his side, his arm wrapped tightly around him.
"Tokyo is...chaotic," said Louis softly.
Harry had been quizzing him on the places he'd been, making sounds of both awe and jealousy.
"I can't believe you've been to Japan, too,"
Harry sounded jealous, but he didn't really need to be, because his trip to Japan had been when he was still young enough that his mother felt obligated to bring him. He'd spent a huge chunk of it alone in his hotel room (which he shared only with his Nanny, while the rest of his family had a large shared suite a few floors up). He'd also gotten lost in the middle of the city and panicked for hours before he'd finally found someone who understood enough English to get him back to his hotel. He'd been eleven, and he'd been lost for hours, but when he'd finally gotten back to the hotel room he shouldn't have been so surprised to learn that no one had noticed.
"Where haven't you been?" asked Harry when he noticed Louis was lost in his head again.
"Lots a places. I stopped really travelling after I was old enough to stay behind,"
Harry bit his lip and nodded, pulling Louis tighter against him.
"What about you? Have you been many places?"
He felt Harry shake his head, "nah, my mum was never really able to afford taking us many places. I went to Ireland with Niall once a couple of summers ago. That's the only time I ever left the country."
"Where would you go, though, if you got the chance?"
"New York," Harry said the words with a flicker of excitement that lit a deeper warmth in Louis' chest, "I have always wanted to see Broadway,"
Louis remembered this. It was one of Harry's childhood dreams. It was one of the first things Harry had ever told him. He'd wanted to act on Broadway as a kid, and that was so endearing that Louis' next words came out without much thought.
"So, you should go,"
Harry snorted a laugh, "of course, rich boy, that's so obvious. I can't believe I never thought of it like that! I'm sure plane tickets to New York are under £100,"
Louis laughed along with him, "we could go,"
"Louis Tomlinson, I won't even let you pay for a pizza, what do you think the odds are that I'd ever let you pay for a trip to America?"
Louis sighed, "but, it's just money, and technically it's not even mine. You'd just be helping me stick it to my mother,"
"While I appreciate the sentiment, I'll never let you pay for a trip to New York. Make me a deal and watch Rent with me instead,"
"Seems like settling, if I'm honest, when we could just go see Rent in person,"
Harry laughed, reaching out to tickle Louis (his ribs were an admitted soft spot—damn Harry for using that to his advantage), "stop flaunting your money, Cheekbones, it's really exhausting try to stave off your luxurious gifts,"
"So, don't." said Louis once his laughter had settled.
Harry shot him another warning glance, "I'm happy. I like being here in Doncaster—with you."
"Happy you came," said Louis because he was. Harry was the beacon of light he'd waited his literal entire life for. Nothing in the world could make him feel more grateful.
Harry wrapped his arm back around Louis, pulling him tightly to his chest. They had so many moments like this. Harry was always so open and warm with him and Louis felt safe and so at home with him. There were parts of himself that he'd never even realize existed before parts of Harry coaxed them out of him. Louis was kind of funny and that was new. He liked it. He liked making Harry laugh and he liked when Harry played back. Harry didn't mind that a good chunk of Louis' humour was self-depreciating, because he almost always countered the things he said with something positive about Louis. They struck a perfect balance and Louis was almost overwhelmed with it.
The thing was, with Harry everything was different. Harry looked at him like there was no illusion of secrets between them, and maybe that was because there were barely any. Harry pretty much knew everything there was to know, and while Louis held some of his emotions about his past back, Harry still seemed to know. Best of all, though, was that Harry knew how to react to things. He knew how to make Louis forget about the years he'd spent in darkness.
Harry was different, too, because he made Louis feel things that no one else did. Maybe it was because he was so soft and open with his affection in a way that Lottie and Terri weren't. Harry also never missed the opportunity to remind Louis of exactly why he was there. If there was ever even a tiny thing Louis did that Harry liked, he told him, and no one else had ever done that for him. No one else had even so much as let Louis know he could do something right. With Harry though, he had to wonder if there was something he could do wrong.
Of course, aside from these outward things, there was the constant turmoil that Louis was dealing with inside of himself. There was the nagging reminders in the back of his mind that he did't actually deserve any of it. He'd done nothing right in his life, so there was no real reason for him to be able to deserve and keep someone like Harry in his life. The doubt was strong, but Harry was strong, too. He was determined to make Louis believe that he was really in this thing for the long run.
"Hey, Louis?" Harry's voice was soft and it felt nice against Louis' ears.
Louis pressed himself tighter into Harry's chest, listening as Harry's heart picked up it's pace, "Harry,"
"I, uh," oh, wow, Harry's heart really was trilling now, Louis hadn't been over-reacting, "wanted to talk to you about some...things."
Louis felt a bit nauseated while he waited for Harry to continue. He tightened his grip around Harry's body, though, not wanting to lose his place, or risk looking into Harry's eyes, because Harry was acting weird.
"Okay," Louis' voice sounded guarded, and he hadn't meant for that to be the case, but he also didn't want to change things with Harry. Harry sounded different, though, and he was scared.
"I, um, I'd like to do this more," Harry was definitely nervous, his heart was beating a mile a minute and his skin was heating up and Louis was confused because they did do this all the time. They always hung out and talked. There was nothing really different happening there, was there? "um, like, you and me. Quiet nights together. I'd like to do things like this for you more."
Louis really wanted to be able to speak. He wanted to contribute to the conversation, but honestly he was more than a little lost. He wasn't sure why Harry was acting so strange. There was a flutter of something in the pit of Louis' stomach and he couldn't really put a name to it, but he wasn't sure if he wanted it to be stifled or if he wanted it to take him over completely. Still, he stayed glued to Harry's side, his eyes focusing on the blanket that was beneath them. Harry was shifting uncomfortably and Louis had probably missed his queue.
"Um," said Harry, moving beneath Louis and no, no, no, he was trying to meet Louis' eyes and Louis couldn't do that. There was something strange and heavy in the bedroom then and he wasn't sure, but maybe it had always been there? Maybe Harry had just been avoiding it for Louis' sake all this time and that stung. He was a bit mad at himself for not feeling it first. For, still not being able to put a name to it.
"Do you..." there was a question on the tip of Harry's tongue and oh god Louis wasn't ready for it. There were tears threatening his eyelids and how stupid would it be when he lost control and just vomited all over Harry? That would probably help things, wouldn't it? "I, um," Harry had no idea how to say what he was trying to say and suddenly, even though he'd never been bad at math before Harry, things finally started to click. Finally things started to add up and Louis felt like a fucking idiot for not being able to see it until now, with Harry stuttering through his words like they hadn't stayed up nights together wrapped up in each other, spilling their guts. Louis was definitely going to be sick.
"I like this," the words were simple and tentative, "and like, I wasn't kidding when I said you were my favourite person. I wouldn't want to spend time like this with anyone but you,"
Did that mean what it felt like it meant?
You know he fancies you, right? Lottie's words all those weeks ago cut through his thought process Louis was pretty sure that it was entirely possible to suffocate on emotion and confusion. He was probably going to die right there wrapped up in Harry's arms while Harry tried to tell him how he felt and that would be pretty ironic, wouldn't it? He was going to die right there in the arms of the person who had finally woken him up and made him want to live.
But he could still be wrong, though, couldn't he? Because the whole thing made little to no sense, and yeah, maybe there had been a warm fuzzy feeling in the air every single time Harry had so much as looked at him, but that didn't mean anything, did it? It wasn't possible that the actual most perfect human being in the world had real, honest feelings for Louis Tomlinson. For the fucked up rich boy who had lived his entire life in shadows cast by his grandfather's name and Matt's addiction. There was just no possible way that that was what Harry was trying to tell him.
Louis probably should have said something, but he really couldn't think through the feeling of actual suffocation. Harry's grip on him didn't loosen and he started to feel a little bit guilty because Harry was unabashedly sharing his feelings and Louis wasn't so much as responding to him, and that wasn't very fair, was it?
He really wanted to speak. He also really wanted to know what the fuck he was feeling other than violently ill. He wanted to have a response. He wanted to know how he was supposed to respond. What was Harry's end goal, here, anyway? What did he think was going to happen?
What could ever happen?
It still felt like it couldn't possibly be real, despite the palpable tension in the air and the intensity of Harry's heart beat and the way Harry was gripping Louis against him like he was afraid he might run away. Being honest with himself, Louis knew that running away was a solid option, because he was a bit of a void. Harry couldn't just keep giving and giving to him. One day he was going to run out and Louis was probably still going to be empty.
"Can we, just, like, talk for a bit?" Harry's voice shook a bit with his words—and of course it did. Louis was leaving him hanging because he didn't fucking understand. He never fucking understood, but for once he felt like he might actually be onto something.
But he really didn't know if it was even something he wanted to be onto.
But it was Harry. Louis didn't say 'no' to Harry, so he nodded softly.
"I haven't always had the best luck, like, in my personal life and all,"
Oh god.
A wave of nausea took Louis over and he almost threw up, but he tried to keep it at bay. Harry was really going for it, wasn't, he? He wasn't reading any of the horrible STOP. STOP. STOP. cues that Louis was sending and this might end badly. It really felt like it was already ending badly.
Here was Louis, the fucked up person he was, and he'd been given this incredible gift of Harry Styles. He'd been given his first real, honest friend. The first person he'd ever told his secrets to, and he'd come at the most pivotal possible point in his life. The person who was willing to look passed everything right when Louis had needed it the most. Right when he was on the cusp of living and dying and he'd gotten so used to it. Harry was everything to him and this wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that things had to change. That Harry would see how little Louis had to give.
Why couldn't anything just stay?
Why did Louis have to keep getting swept up in shit-storm after shit-storm. Couldn't they just be, like the way they'd been going?
Louis didn't have more. It was obvious that Harry did. Harry was full of a labyrinth of feelings that Louis could never hope to navigate and it just wasn't fair because Harry could keep digging into that, could keep evolving and giving Louis more and more, but Louis didn't have more.
And it so wasn't fair for Harry to ask for it.
"I had two boyfriends back home and both of them just wanted to hang out, like, in dark basements or whatever. They weren't ever brave enough and stand up and say they were with me. I kind of got used to being the dirty little secret, but I always wanted more than that." Harry's voice was heavy as he spoke and he probably knew that Louis was breaking into a million pieces in his arms, "but I never actually expected that I'd get more than that. I was always so used to settling that I assumed that's all I'd get."
Harry didn't have to settle. That was terrible. Harry should have been able to have whatever he wanted. He certainly deserved it. Settling wasn't something that should have been in the cards for him.
Especially settling for Louis.
He really, truly, deserved more than that. Maybe Louis had been monopolizing too much of Harry's time. He hadn't given him the chance to realize that there were so many better options out there for him.
Louis didn't like that thought, because his time with Harry was precious, but Harry shouldn't force himself to settle. There were probably millions of perfect guys out there who would give anything for a shot at a boy as sweet and careful as Harry. Louis probably owed it to Harry to give him the chance to see that.
"I can be a really patient person," Harry started, "and it's not that I'm not willing to keep being patient, but I just—I want it all to be out there. I want you to know everything about me in case you're ready for things to change,"
Do you not think that you and Harry might be heading towards dating? Is that not what you want? Terri had asked him. The words were just replaying themselves over and over in his head.
Fuck being suicidal. Fuck being on drugs. Fuck being isolated in the largest family in town. Fuck every stupid thing Louis had been through, because there was nothing on earth that could possibly compare to how hard this was. This thing Harry was trying to do. It didn't make any sense and Louis felt more than a little bit of irrational anger over the fact that Harry had picked him up, because he couldn't leave. He didn't even have his car. Harry had trapped him here.
He'd backed Louis into a corner and now he was throwing all kinds of feelings at him and Louis couldn't really dodge them for much longer. They were building up now. It was getting harder and harder for Louis is ignore what he was saying. The old parts of Louis, the parts that didn't know a single thing about emotions or relationships, he wanted those parts to take over. He wanted to drown all over again in his oblivion. He wanted to not know what Harry was thinking about. He didn't want this newfound awareness. He wanted to slip back into being the same clueless person he'd always been before Harry had waltzed into his life with sunshine and dimples and promises that Louis was worth everything.
Harry was his best fucking friend. The best friend he had never let himself hope he could have, and now he was here trying to say something more, and while it didn't make any fucking sense, Louis couldn't ignore that it was obvious.
How on earth had he managed to make Harry feel something for him? All he'd done was show his true colours. Complain about his family, his childhood, his battles with drugs. He'd cried and avoided Harry and pushed and pushed until he realized he was too weak to keep Harry away. He hadn't even done anything right and still, Harry was sitting there, his heart threatening to beat out of his chest, and on the cusp of confessing something that Louis was really, in no way, prepared to handle.
The signs were all there, now. Louis couldn't un-see them. Niall's words when he'd apologized, if things are going that way with Harry and all, he'd said. Now, as Louis looked back it made sense. That way. How had he not caught that before?
Things weren't heading that way, though. He couldn't. Louis didn't have a fucking thing to give to Harry, didn't even know how to approach the thought of whether or not he even wanted to. What he did want, what he knew he wanted, was his best friend. Louis felt like he was going to collapse under the pressure of the room.
Still, though, Louis didn't say a word.
"I think I might be fucking up," said Harry, trying to force Louis' head upwards so he could look at him. Louis clung tighter, his fist tightening in Harry's shirt. He didn't dare to move. Harry, in that moment, was a source for too many things. He was the cause of the boiling turmoil inside of Louis, but he was also supposed to be Louis' safe place. It had been so long since Louis had had a true, honest panic attack, but he felt it brewing because he was trapped. He wanted to cry and freak out and yell at Harry that he wasn't being fair. He needed Harry and Harry was fucking it all up.
"I'm sorry, Lou, I'm so sorry," Harry sounded broken and it was no doubt due to the fact that Louis was doing a fucking awful job on his side of their friendship, too, by ignoring every single word out of Harry's mouth.
"I just—there's so many moments where I just feel so much. I only get that with you. No one else does that and I'm just telling you this because I promised I'd ask the next time. I promised I wouldn't ask you for anything more than you're willing to give, but I just have so much more I want to give you,"
Emotion swept through Louis' body, making him shrivel in on himself as he thought back to the day in his pool. The day Harry had made the promise that he'd ask next time. Harry had been about to kiss him, that was it, wasn't it? Louis could practically feel the brush of Harry's lips against his, the way he'd pressed Louis' back to the wall of the pool, nuzzling his nose against Louis' neck.
That wasn't how friends acted, was it?
FUCK FUCK FUCK.
Why couldn't there just be one thing in Louis life that was sacred? Couldn't he just have one thing that he got to keep? Why did everything have to leave, have to change?
"I'm sorry," it sounded like Harry was almost crying, but why? Was it because Louis was fucking up and just kept forgetting to respond?
Harry pushed Louis away from him then and Louis wasn't ready for that. He wasn't ready at all when he was finally forced to look at Harry's eyes and they were hurt. They were sparkling with a deeper green and usual and they were glassy with his emotion. Louis curled in on himself, pulling his knees up to his chest.
How could Harry of all the people in the world do this to him? How did he make it stop?
There was a ball of fire in his stomach, fuck being sick, he was going to fucking burn from the inside out and he hoped it would happen soon. He hoped he would burst into flames so that he never had to deal with the hurt that was shining in Harry's eyes.
And the thing was, for months now he'd been totally blind. He hadn't even noticed anything strange about how Harry acted with him, or how everyone else made comments (Harry thinks the sun shines out your ass Zayn had said). But now, he couldn't just play dumb. He wanted to, but he knew now. Knew that Harry had misplaced emotions that he was directing at Louis and he wanted to be able to fix that. He wanted the very best for Harry, and that would never be him.
"I mean, we talk about everything, Lou, but we never talk about this." Harry wasn't touching him anymore and that was a bad sign. He was mirroring Louis' body language, his knees pulled up to his chest and his arms wrapped around them, "don't you want more? Don't you ever think that you deserve that? Because, like, I know things have been shit for you with your mum and with Matt, but haven't you ever even considered a relationship? Do you...do you not want that for yourself?"
Now would have been the perfect time for the flames to lick him from the inside out, but even hoping as hard as he was had done nothing for him. He wasn't igniting and Harry was really looking at him now and it had been at least a solid fifteen minutes of him avoiding any sort of answer. Harry deserved to know the truth though, and Louis wished he didn't have to be the one who gave it to him.
It wasn't right. None of this was right because this wasn't what he wanted. Sure, he should have been used to that. Louis very rarely got the things he wanted, but when it came to Harry it had almost seemed like the exception to that rule. It seemed like Harry, instead of giving him the world, had gone above and beyond and given Louis an entire universe that he'd never even let himself imagine.
And now? Now he was confused and he'd broken it. He was sitting there with heavy eyes, begging Louis for so much more than he knew how to give and it wasn't fair.
"I can't do this," Louis voice was rough and it shook and he saw the exact moment that his words registered with Harry. "I can't do any of it, okay?"
One tear slipped from Harry's eye and fuck Louis wished he knew what to say. Wished he could give Harry the things he wanted.
"I just know you get confused about the people around you sometimes and you don't always see things for what they are, but I don't want to be part of that anymore," confessed Harry and no, Louis wasn't ready, "I don't ever want you to be confused about how I feel about you,"
Louis was just mad now. Everything else had left him.
"Just...imagine it, Harry," Louis' voice was harsh, even to his own ears, "I spent my entire life being pushed aside. No one ever saw me, and then that changed. Someone saw me, saw the weakness and used me and broke me. How can you possibly sit there and ask me if I could ever want a relationship? I have no idea what that even means. Don't you understand that? I can't want something I don't understand. You're supposed to be my friend, how can you not even see that?"
Was Louis being unfair? His words seemed so harsh.
Harry looked broken and fuck. Might as well kiss this goodbye. How many times since their friendship began had Louis gone through this in his head? How many times had he rehearsed what it would be like to lose him? How many times had he gone over in his head that Harry couldn't possibly be permanent? He knew. He knew that it would only be a matter of time before he fucked it all up and he broke them. He'd decided long ago that it was worth the risk. That just the idea of having Harry in his life at all was going to be worth losing him.
And now, here they were, Harry with his heart on his sleeve and Louis pushing it to the side like it was an equation that was way too hard for him solve.
Louis had fucked it up the most, but Harry had helped. He'd sat there and forced this whole thing on Louis and he should have known better. He knew Louis better than any other person in the world. He should have known it was doomed.
Before Harry could scramble to say anything to Louis' outburst a commotion erupted outside of the closed bedroom door. There was a large smash followed by Zayn's voice, shrill and angry.
"What the fuck, Liam," he growled, "you fucking idiot,"
Niall was the one who immediately jumped to Liam's defence, "It's just whiskey, Zayn, we can clean it up,"
"No, but you're always doing dumb shit like this," Zayn's voice was all rage, "you don't give a fuck about anything but yourself. What a fucking waste. That's Niall's good whiskey and of course you'd have to fuck that up, too."
Complex. That was the word that Zayn had chosen to sum up his feelings for Liam. Complex didn't really seem to sum this up, though. Louis wondered what happened, but he was also stuck in some weird place with Harry. They were both staring at the door now, Harry's interest had been peaked, too.
Thank fuck for Zayn and his distractions. Louis was getting a migraine and he wasn't really sure how much longer he could have possibly gone on existing in a world where Harry was trying to pour confessions all over their perfect sushi picnic.
Maybe it had been the sake. Maybe Harry was drunk.
Maybe Harry would apologize in the morning.
"Would you just fucking cool it, for one bloody second," it was Liam's voice this time.
"No, I won't because you're a fucking wanker, Liam,"
"What the fuck is your problem." Liam was matching Zayn's rage level and it was really something to behold. Louis kind of wanted to wander into the living room to see what had sparked this whole thing, but Harry was still in his place, his arms wrapped around his knees as he watched the door like he could see the whole thing. "You've been acting like a proper fucking prick since I said I wanted to play FIFA,"
"Because FIFA is fucking shit and you were supposed to hang out at mine while I painted."
"Video games are more fun than watching you, the broody introvert, paint your sad paintings. Your flat is always so fucking sad."
"Well, it's not like you could spark a real emotion in me."
It was at that very moment that Niall barged through the door, slamming it behind him. He leaned against it, his eyes wide as he looked down at Harry and Louis, their bodies distanced and arms wrapped around their knees, not daring to look at each other. The regret in his eyes was instant.
"Jesus Christ," he muttered, "it's world war three out there."
He looked to Harry, but Harry didn't say anything to him. They just stared at each other for a moment, like they often did, exchanging thoughts in that wordless way that only best friends could. Louis had never had that. There was a pang of jealousy. Harry was supposed to be that for him, but they were nothing like him and Niall. Harry had a whole host of confused feelings and Louis hated them all.
"So, coming in here was maybe not my best escape method," Niall said slowly, eyes flicking back and forth from Harry to Louis. "In my defence, though, they might actually kill each other. You could cut the sexual tension with a knife."
"You've been like this every fucking day lately. What the fuck is your problem?" Liam's voice penetrated through the closed door.
My 'fucking problem', Liam, is that you're a selfish, shit person. Everything is all about you lately and I'm sick of it. Do you ever think of just asking me what's wrong instead of fucking accusing me? Did you ever consider that maybe you're my fucking problem?"
Zayn was admittedly going a bit overboard, but Louis almost saw where he was coming from. Sometimes it was hard to handle emotions. There was all kind of pent up rage inside of Louis right then and he could see the draw to exploding. Louis didn't explode, though, unless exploding into a giant crying mess counted. That was really the only way that he had ever learned how to deal with things. He'd never actually explode like Zayn was, but he almost wanted to, because he'd quite honestly never been as angry as he was currently. It was his dominant feeling.
But the sadness in Harry's eyes? It was making it impossible for Louis to make a decision. Every part of him wanted—no, needed to run. He needed to get away. He needed a chance to analyze this and figure out if there was any way to salvage things with Harry.
"You okay?" Niall's voice cut through Louis' thoughts. Louis looked to Harry and Harry was shaking his back and forth. His lip was quivering and Louis wasn't really sure who had fucked up more. Maybe it had been him?
But Harry.
Harry had put so much pressure on him. He felt like he was sinking under the surface and it wasn't fair because what was Louis supposed to do with this information anyway? He didn't want it. He didn't need it. He didn't need to even entertain the idea that he and Harry were something more than friends. He had just barely accepted that they were friends and that maybe it was something he could get used to. He didn't need these other million promises dangled in front of him. He didn't want them.
Niall's eyes met his then and Louis felt sick again. There was that same promise burning behind his blue irises that said he'd do anything to protect Harry. Maybe it was time for Louis to leave.
He could still hear a commotion outside of the bedroom door, and he was really stuck. He'd have to leave through Liam and Zayn's spat, but he couldn't very well stay where he was. Where Harry was very much not okay and Niall was very much ready to end his life.
He got to his feet then, looking down at Harry. What was his process here? What was he supposed to say? He needed to leave, that was very much the truth. There wasn't a question there, but he couldn't just leave without saying anything...not after Harry had said so much while Louis clung to him like a sad toddler. Niall's eyes were on him as he looked down at Harry.
"I should go,"
"Louis, please," there was one single tear that was running down Harry's cheek and Louis wanted to wipe it away, but everything was fucked. Everything he did now could mean something else, and he didn't know how he felt about that. "I'll drive you. We aren't done talking."
"I can't," said Louis, staring mostly at Niall who's gaze was burning a hole straight through him. "I'll call my driver,"
"I'm sorry," Harry's voice was heavy and he was not paying attention to Niall at all, and Zayn and Liam's voices were blurring in the background. He couldn't make out what they were saying anymore. He was stuck on Harry. There was a sick feeling in his stomach and his heart was racing in his chest as he tried to ignore the words that just kept falling all over him.
Did Harry really want that? With him? Did he really think that Louis was capable or something more than he'd already given? Sure, he'd given his body to Matt, his money, but he'd given so much more to Harry and it stung that it wasn't enough. That Harry, of all the people in the world, still wanted more from him. He had been the first person to convince Louis he was enough and now he wanted more. More than Louis could give and it stung. It made his organs feel like mush in his body and his heart feel like it wanted to give up.
Harry got to his feet, then, reaching out for Louis. He gripped Louis' hand in his and stared at him with those eyes. Those eyes that begged Louis for something more than he'd already given and he didn't know what it was or how he was ever supposed to be able to give it to him. Nothing made any fucking sense.
"I'm sorry if I scared you, Louis, but—"
Louis was hurt, his words came out more callous than he intended, but he had no control left in any place in his life, "I needed you to be my friend."
"I am your friend, Louis, always. I'm all in it. I'm not going to change that."
"But you did." Argued Louis as he walked toward the door of Harry's bedroom. Niall stepped to the side and opened the door for him.
Louis heard Harry call after him, but he couldn't go back. Not with Niall looking at him like that. Not with Harry asking him for things he couldn't give. It wasn't fair—but Louis should have been used to that.
He paused as he saw Zayn and Liam, standing on inches from each other. Zayn's hands were in firsts at his sides and there was a huge puddle of whiskey on the ground and shattered glass everywhere. Liam looked hurt and that was the only word that came to mind when Louis took in his expression. Despite the crease between his eyebrows and the way that he challenged each word that Zayn fired at him, Louis could see that Zayn's words were hitting home.
"You're fucked up," Liam spat.
Zayn's eyes flicked to Louis then. Louis paused for only a moment before he started to walk toward the door.
"I'm so done with this. With you and all your fucking shit, Liam, I swear it," growled Zayn as he made to follow after Louis, "I don't know what I ever saw in you,"
"Feeling's mutual," Louis heard Liam call after them as they shut the door to Harry and Niall's flat.
Zayn's hands were in his jacket pocket instantly, pulling out a cigarette within seconds. He put it in his mouth, motioning for Louis to follow him to the stairwell. He had his lighter out and was taking a deep breath of the smoke before he could even form a word.
Louis stole the opportunity to make this about anything other than him and Harry. He didn't even mind that Zayn had followed after him. "That was...something." Louis said.
Zayn sputtered a laugh as he coughed out his smoke, "irrational is the word that comes to mind,"
"You said it, not me." smiled Louis.
They were almost at the bottom of the stairwell then and Zayn had nearly smoked his entire cigarette, which was a feat in and of itself. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Louis pushed the door open and welcomed the bite of the cold air.
Zayn led Louis out into the parking lot, "come back to mine? I really need to whine,"
Louis nodded, following Zayn as he walked toward the sidewalk. Zayn busied himself with taking out another cigarette. He started smoking it quietly as they walked in the cool night toward his flat. There seemed to be a weight on Zayn's shoulders and Louis understood the feeling. He felt like he'd gone through hell that night and it wasn't even done yet. He was grateful, though, that Zayn had asked him to follow because Louis didn't know what it would be like if he were alone. He didn't know what kind of darkness he'd think himself into. He could really use the distraction of another fucked up human being who had tried to explode on the object of his desires.
Complex.
"Wait a minute," Zayn grabbed Louis wrist and pulled them both to a stop, "what happened to you? Why are you leaving? I thought this was supposed to be the night Harry wooed you." Zayn's eyebrows shot up and his jaw fell opened, "no," he said, gripping Louis' wrist tighter, "you didn't reject Harry, did you? Fuck, you're more fucked than me. Niall's going to be so mad. We were all rooting for you, you know." Zayn dropped his wrist again and started walking forward, "fuck, this whole night is fucked. I've got brandy at mine. We're obviously drinking it all. You probably need it more than me."
Reject Harry.
Yeah, maybe Louis did need a drink.