v.
❝it's narcissistic, but fuck it, i'm calling.❞
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note; 2k+ words of pure pain and stress. you're welcome!!!!
p.s. don't get used to updates two days in a row...you just got lucky this time ;)
-
Louis' movements the next day are languid and robotic. His legs move him from lecture to lecture. His hand copies the pages his professors project on the board. His friend drags him to the dining hall. His jaw chews, his stomach digests. His lungs fill and deflate. He thinks his nose tickles and sneezes at one point, but he can't be sure. His body is doing it all. There's no thought, no emotion, no brain behind any of his actions. Have you ever tried running as fast as you can through a pool of deep, sticky molasses? Okay, neither has Louis, but he's pretty damn positive this is what it'd feel like.
He walks back to Devonshire Hall, passing Lyddon Hall as he goes. His eyes are glued to the window he knows is Harry's dorm. The lights are off and the curtains are closed. He wills his gaze away from the building and back to the uneven pavement of the sidewalk. There's cigarette butts tossed carelessly along the edge along with some various wrappers and old receipts. He wonders how many of the fags are his. Too many. Harry hated the smell. It's the first time his mind has thought anything at all today. He wishes his only thought wasn't about Harry.
Speaking of the boy, after scanning his student ID at the entrance and auto-piloting his way to his door, he's met with an upset looking Niall hurling millions of questions and expletives at him.
"What the fuck did you do to Harry?" It's the only one that sticks out to Louis.
He wordlessly puts his key in the doorknob and opens the door. Niall pushes Louis in, stronger than Louis'd have liked, and shuts the door behind them.
"What did you do to him, Louis?" Niall repeats. Louis isn't used to seeing Niall so stern. He's honestly kind of intimidated.
"I didn't do anything, Niall," Louis defends. It's the first time he's spoken today and even he is shocked by how monotonous his voice comes out.
It's true, though. Sure, he was a little forward about how he's probably still madly in love with his ex-boyfriend. He didn't really think it was a secret, to be fair. He made sure it was extremely clear when they parted that it was never about him not loving Harry. Never.
Niall doesn't appear satisfied with that answer. He shakes his head disparagingly. "I'm fucking serious, Louis. I'm worried sick about him and I'm not going to let this go."
Louis is starting to feel the same worry. Harry seemed uneasy last night, he won't deny that. But he's not sure Harry's behavior seemed to warrant being worried sick. Did something else happen? Something bigger? "I don't- I don't know, Niall. Honestly."
He sees Niall's expression soften the slightest bit as he pulls out Louis' desk chair and sits. He runs his hand down his face nervously.
"What happened, Ni?" Louis finally asks.
Niall exhales shakily. "I don't know, man. I just- I saw him leaving his room this morning and he looked a mess. Figured he just slept in by accident, but something wasn't right. I stopped 'im in the hall, and he just... He wouldn't look at me, ya know? And, like, he just looked terrified. I asked him what was wrong, of course, but he just said he needed to go."
Louis chews on his lip anxiously. "Did he- Was he in class?"
"No," is Niall's response. The response Louis didn't want to hear.
He shifts his weight between his feet, trying to think of something he can say to help. He feels lost. He's never lost when it comes to Harry. Harry is the one thing that Louis always knows. Taking care of Harry was easy. He supposes it's past tense for a reason, though.
He has to ask. "Do you think he's at Nick's?"
"I really fucking hope not."
They both know that he is.
And that's that.
-
Louis doesn't do any of his coursework that evening. If he thought he didn't care about anything this morning, this evening must be complete and utter apathy, then. He isn't sure how many cigs he's smoked or how many big red stop signs he's pictured in his mind when an unwanted thought of Harry popped up, but he knows the answer to both of those questions is shameful.
He calls him.
"Hi, you've reached Harry. Or, well, you tried to reach Harry," There's a small giggle at his own joke, and Louis wants to die. "Leave me a message and I will get back to you. Thanks!"
"Harry," is apparently how Louis greets the voicemail. "Um, it's Louis. I just wanted to, uh, check in and make sure you're alright. I know I maybe said too much last night, and I would say I'm sorry, but I... Well, I just don't think I am. I don't think I could ever be sorry for loving you. Anyways, er, if you could just give me a ring to let me know that everything is okay, I'd really appreciate it. Or, call Niall, at the very least. The poor kid is just a bundle of nerves at this point. He really cares about you, Harry. We both do. And it's important to us that you're okay. Give him a call. Please."
The tears finally come, and Louis can't bring himself to even try to hold them back.
-
An hour, maybe two, passes before Louis hears anything from anyone.
His phone vibrates in his sad, limp hands and he opens the text immediately. It's the fastest he's moved in the last 24 hours. The text is simple, just two words. It's from Niall.
come here.
Louis rushes out of his room with nothing but his phone. It's the middle of January, but the chill that stings his bare arms is evanescent. He doesn't know if "here" is Niall's dorm or Harry's, but they're both in the same hall, so Louis just runs. He's back on auto-pilot, but this time it's from fear. He briefly yearns for the callous, dull auto-pilot from that morning. At least it was less painful.
After bumping into several people and tossing some s'cuse me, sorry's over his shoulder, he's finally met with the glass door of Lyddon Hall. He can't get in, he realizes. The fobs only work for their designated buildings and Louis has never hated modern technology more. So he does the first thing he thinks of. He starts banging on the door. He probably looks ridiculous, insane even, but Louis can't find it in himself to give a single shit. He continues pounding the door with the side of his fist until he hears a Bloody hell, what are you doing? from behind him. Louis thanks the gods above.
"Oh my God," Louis sighs as some of the adrenaline ebbs. A feeling of relief rushes over him. You'd think a helicopter finally saw his S.O.S. spelled out in the sand on the island he was stranded on. He's marginally aware that maybe he's being a tiny bit over-reactionary, but he doesn't know what's wrong. Harry could be having another asthma attack. Or maybe he's hurt. "Do you live here? I need to get in."
The lad looks at him skeptically, most likely wondering whether or not to let this crazy, frantic stranger into his building, but ends up shrugging. "Yeah, 'lright. C'mon in."
Louis smiles (he tries to smile, at least) at the boy and makes a beeline to the stairwell. He decides to check Harry's room first since it's on a lower floor than Niall's, but when he knocks on the door, a confused guy opens it. "Um. Hi?"
"Fuck," Louis groans. This must be Harry's roommate. Luke, was it? He knows Niall mentioned it once, but he can't remember. All he knows is Harry's not in his dorm. Niall's it is, then. "Christ. Sorry, lad."
The first thing Louis notices when he gets closer to Niall's door is the sound of crying. It's a dry, loud sob; the kind that you can just tell catches in your chest and tears your throat. This isn't good. He doesn't bother letting them know he's there, he just opens the door.
The sight is gut wrenching. His best friend and ex-boyfriend are crumpled in a pile of tears on the cold, dirty concrete. Harry is visibly shuddering and his head is hidden in Niall's neck. Niall, bless him, is pale as a ghost, holding his friend as close as he possibly can. They don't notice Louis over the sounds of Harry's cries and Niall's soothing hums.
"Ni?" He puts a hand on the boy's shoulder blade, comforting the comforter. Niall's never been the best at dealing with people's emotions, with his go-to technique of saying "fuck it/them" and taking them to get a beer only going so far.
The look of pure reprieve that lights up Niall's face would almost be comical if they weren't in this situation. "You're a fucking live saver. He's breaking my heart, I don't know what to do."
Louis smiles pathetically. He rubs a calming pattern up and down Niall's back a few times before going over to Harry. He crouches down, squatting in a position that will most definitely hurt his knees later, and places the lightest, faintest, gentlest hand on Harry's shoulder. The reaction is skittish, as Harry flinches away from the unknown touch. He falls out of Niall's embrace, landing on his bum and winces. Seeing Louis' face, however, seems to relax him, and he throws himself onto the older boy. It's Louis' turn to stumble and wriggle his way to a more comfortable position for the both of them. He manages to scoot the two of them next to the wooden bedframe so he can get some of the weight of Harry off of him. Harry readjusts, curling himself into the tiniest ball against Louis' side.
Now that they're more settled, Louis is able to do a cursory scan of Harry. He runs his fingers through his curls, taking them down the front of his chest. His hands travel up and down Harry's torso, feeling for any bumps or blood. He stops without delay when Harry weakly swats his hand away when it gets to the bottom of his abdomen. Okay. He doesn't seem physically hurt, as far as he can tell. His left cheek looks a little red, but that's most likely from the crying. He's glad Harry doesn't seem to be hurt, but now he's left clueless again.
He looks to Niall for any ideas. "What the hell happened?"
"I couldn't find him," Niall explains as if Harry wasn't even there. "I tried to ignore it when he didn't come to our first class, but after he didn't show up to the physio lecture, I went to his room. Liam was there, but he wasn't. Asked him where he was he said Harry'd mentioned going to a friend's."
Louis sucks in a breath.
"I stopped at your when I was on my way. I knew I had to go to-" he cuts himself off.
"Nick's," Louis urges.
"Right," Niall pauses. "He was there. Looked fucked out. And fucked up. Think he had something with Nick."
Jesus. This wasn't Harry. Was he fucking high? He didn't smell like weed. Nor did he smell that strongly of alcohol. Maybe a bit of wine, but certainly not strong enough to be considered "fucked up".
"Can we..." Louis trails off. He doesn't want to kick Niall out of his own room, but he also doesn't want to make Niall uncomfortable with all the awkward emotions and prying he's planning on doing.
"I'll give you guys a minute. Phone me if you need me, yeah? Keep me updated." With that, Niall softly opens the door and slips out.
Louis glances back to the miserable boy lying across his legs. "What am I gonna do with you, darling?" It's nothing more than a whisper.
Harry doesn't say a word, but his previously inconsolable wails slow to pitiful little whimpers. His soft fingers make their way to Louis' frozen ones. He toys with Louis' fingers, entwining them, then letting them go. He twists and twiddles them, calming himself with the repetitive movements. He's always done this- grabbing and playing with Louis' hands. He used to tell Louis it's just something he loved doing whenever he'd ask. Louis always let him. And right now is no different.
The choked, frenetic energy in the room stills after some moments. It's replaced with a thick silence.
A quiet that's begging to be broken.
So Louis breaks it.
"What were you doing at Nick's house, Harry?"