So the fanfiction is going to start wrapping up guys. Just a few more chapters then the epilogue left. Unfortunately, that means the updates are going to be less frequent and more like a month between each rather than just a couple of weeks because I can guarantee each chapter will have parts that are written a number of times before I approve of my works and move on to the next part. I want these chapters to be the best they can be because you have all been so patient and you deserve the best fanfiction I can provide. So please, just keep waiting and hanging in because the end is coming.
Enjoy(:
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Chapter 22
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Sometimes, with certain medications, one loses their grip on reality. They don't know what's real and what's a dream. I remember back when we were kids, Harry had a terrible, terrible fever and was practically drowning in medication. He had called me on his fourth day of bed rest and kept telling me to congratulate Fizz on becoming a Vogue model. I had to tell him half a dozen times that Fizz was only four; it was all just a dream. A week later, Harry was out of the fog and back at school and explained that for the eight days he was out, he couldn't separate dreams from reality; that his dreams were so real, they felt more like life than when he was actually awake.
That's what happened to me last night. After taking so many medications for so long, it's finally starting to affect my mind. There's no way I kissed my childhood best friend. None of last night makes sense; it couldn't be real. Doesn't matter that I can still feel the press of Harry's lips on my skin even after being awake for three hours. It means nothing that my split lip is throbbing worse than before. It's all in my head. The drugs are just finally taking a toll. It was only a matter of time.
I was incredibly relieved when I woke up to see Niall trying to build a house of cards rather than Harry bobbing his head to a song in his head while highlighting passages in his textbook. After the crazy dream I had, I don't think I would have been able to face Harry without turning as red as the blood cells he's studying. Thankfully, his shift to babysit isn't for another five hours so I've got plenty of time to get myself together.
Liam's watching me right now. He's applying excruciatingly cold salve to the bruise on my ribs, his brow low over his brown eyes in concentration, a face I've come to know very well over the past couple of weeks. I've also noticed that his brow lifts and his face lightens whenever Zayn walks into the room and shoots him one of his shy smiles, an expression I've become accustomed to over the years. It's while Liam's so focused on the task at hand that I feel compelled to ask him, "Liam, what are your intentions with Zayn?"
Liam's so caught off guard that he drops the container of salve. He swears with me when it slams onto my ribs and rolls off the side of my bed, though my profanity is a bit more colorful. Liam stammers as he leans over to pick up the salve, "Shit, sorry, I. I just. Erm." His face is the color of my mother's lipstick when he sits back up, his eyes not meeting mine. "Sorry, Lou, erm, I'm not quite sure I know what you mean?"
My fingers rub gently on my now burning bruise, trying to soothe the pain. Through clenched teeth, I say, "Oh, just, you and him spend a lot of time together - shit, that hurt - and he's my best mate, so. Kind of my job to watch out for his best interests." I exhale through my teeth, trying to breathe through the sudden pain.
Liam puckers his lips in thought then shakes his head and resumes applying the insanely cold solution to my bruises, making me such my breath right back in. "Erm, we're friends, he's a good-"
"Oh, cut the shit, Liam." I take the salve from him and put it on the bedside table then cross my arms over my chest. "I'm crippled, not stupid. I see the way you look at him." When Liam doesn't say anything, just stares at the salve now sitting on the night table with a slight frown, I lift a shoulder in a half shrug. "And maybe Zayn looks at you the same way."
That gets Liam's attention.
"He does? I mean..." The words completely leave Liam and he covers his face with his hand and whispers a curse.
I may or may not feel a little triumphant.
"So. What are your intentions with Zayn?" I repeat, noticing the flushed color of Liam's face peaking from behind his fingers. Am I a sadist for enjoying this so much?
The color slowly stars to fade and Liam removes his hands from his face. "Look, Lou-"
"We come bearing food!" Zayn announces after violently throwing the door open, Niall in tow, and immediately Liam's face flames like a match dropped into a tank of gasoline and I would almost find it comical if it weren't for the fact that it's slightly pathetic and entirely my fault. I join Liam in humiliation however, although all the blood leaves my face rather than floods into it like Liam's when Zayn says, "Harry'll be 'round in a bit. Said he needed to check for mail."
Shit.
Instead of having five hours to prepare myself to face Harry, I now have maybe five minutes.
It was just a dream it was just a dream it was just a dream. Plenty of people accidentally have dreams like that about their friends. Nothing actually happened last night. I slept and Harry studied Biology. That's it. We cuddled, yeah, but I cuddle all of my friends. And so does Harry. He's always all over Niall like a wet blanket. We cuddled and nothing more. I fell asleep, had that freakish dream, then woke up to find Niall failing to build a house out of a deck of cards. Everything's normal.
Only, it's not. No matter how many internal pep talks I could give myself, nothing could have prepared me for facing Harry after that crazy inappropriate dream I had about him.
He lets himself into the room and my breath rushes out. His wild, dark curls fluffed every which way, falling over his forehead as he sets his bag against the wall. His cheeks are flushed from the cold and his lips are parted. I can almost feel those lips on my skin again but I shake the feeling off because it was just a dream. Then suddenly Harry's eyes are moving from the floor to meet mine, so brilliant that any breath left in my lungs slips out. His teeth catch the side of his bottom lip, trying fruitlessly to hide a smile, his dimples giving him away completely. "Hi, Louis."
I open and close my mouth uselessly, waiting for words to come and save me from this moment. An idea sparks in my head and I'm turning my attention to Zayn, the words tumbling out of my mouth before the thought has fully developed. "Hey, Zayn, how much longer do I have to take the meds?"
The smile falls from Harry's lips.
"Erm," Zayn begins lamely, caught off guard. He picks up a random prescription bottle and examines the label. "Another five days, it looks like. Most of these prescriptions are only for two weeks."
"Oh, thank God."
"Why do you ask?" Zayn wonders, dropping onto his bed. Liam scratches his temple, his dark eyes stuck on Zayn.
I tap a finger against my head. "I think the meds are starting to fry my brain."
Harry's complete attention snaps to me.
Niall laughs from his seat on Zayn's dresser - his favorite spot to sit in the room no matter how many times Zayn tells him off. "Louis, your brain is too fucked up for some meds to affect it."
"Niall, I will skin you alive," I threaten without missing a beat and Niall laughs harder.
"But what do you mean, Louis?" Liam asks, still sitting on the edge of my bed, peeling an orange he pulled out of the bag of food the boys brought.
I honestly can't explain why I'm doing what I'm doing. Maybe if I admit out loud that I had a strange dream that felt like reality, then it will be concrete. Just a small admission to fully convince myself it was all in my head. And maybe admitting it with Harry here will be like proving it to him and myself. He'll obviously have no idea what I'm walking about and when he doesn't react or when he laughs with the others, it'll be complete proof that it was all just a dream. I just need to make sure it was all just a dream. So I say, "I've been having tons of nightmares for the past couple of weeks. Then I just had the craziest dream last night. It felt so real but it was so impossible."
Harry looks down at his hands.
Niall pops a crisp into his mouth. "What was it about?"
Unable to help myself, I look over at Harry who lifts his head just enough to meet my eyes. There's a pleading look in those green eyes and his lips are in a thin line, pale from the pressure. He's watching me so intensely, silently begging me for something I don't know, can't provide. Because it was just a dream.
"I dreamt that I kissed Harry."
All eyes go straight to Harry and he leans against the wall behind him, arms crossed casually and an eyebrow raised. His arrogant pose. He meets everyone's eyes in turn then when those green, green eyes land on mine, he says, "What can I say? I'm irresistible." And maybe, just maybe, there isn't his usual tone of humor. Only a dry comment that makes the others laugh. "But if you'll excuse me," he begins, peeling himself off the wall, "I've got a project to do."
And he's gone.
"I should probably go help him," Niall says, sliding off the dresser and gathering his trash, the smile vanishing as quickly as Harry did. "He said he wanted some help with research. Later, lads." And just like that, Niall is gone, too.
My eyes are pulled to the movement in my peripheral vision. Zayn's drumming his fingers on his jean clad thigh, a nervous habit of his. I look up to see him staring at the door, his eyes slightly narrowed and his dark eyebrows dropped low over his eyes and furrowed in concentration. He glances down with a lick of his lips then says, "I'm going to go out for a smoke."
Liam hastily digs in the bag of food next to him then holds a red apple toward Zayn as he walks by with a slight pout to his lips. "But you haven't eaten anything."
Without so much as a glance over, Zayn answers, "I'm not hungry." He throws the door open and slams it behind him, making Liam visibly flinch.
And it's just me and Liam again.
The room completely crowded then emptied in the span of seven minutes.
I can feel the tension crackling in the air like a poor radio station. Liam's still watching the door as if waiting for Zayn to return, to throw the door off its hinges and stomp toward Liam, grab the apple and throw it across the room like some melodramatic, then pull Liam into a magical kiss that lights fireworks inside of Liam because he's never felt so much at once and Zayn is just this amazing person that he happened to cross paths with and now can't get out of his head-
Wow. I'm not sure what's more pathetic: the fact that Liam's eyes are still aimed on the door or that I just psychoanalyzed my friends' love life.
I really need to get laid.
"Liam, can you pass me something to eat?" I ask, snapping Liam back to reality like a rubber band.
"Oh, erm, yeah. Here." He hands me the apple and gets off the bed with a fake bounce in his step. He goes to where Niall was sitting and gathers nonexistent crumbs in his hands to throw away, an excuse to not meet my eyes. He knows. He remembers what we were talking about before everyone came in and he knows he gave himself away when Zayn left, knows that he stared longingly at the door for perhaps a second more than necessary. And he knows I know. And from the tense set of his shoulders, the fidgeting of his hands, and his need for distraction, I can see that he's nervous or scared. Of what, I can't be sure. Of me judging him? Of admitting his feelings? It could be anything.
I calculate my next words carefully. "Look, Liam." Even though my voice is much softer than before, I can practically see Liam's muscles beneath his shirt tense. "I'm not going to make you talk about anything you don't want to. But Zayn's one of the best friends a guy could have and you're the first person I've ever seen treat Zayn with any respect. So just know that I'm rooting for you." When Liam doesn't turn around or say anything for a few minutes, I decide I should probably leave him alone with his thoughts, so I pull myself out of bed. "Well, I'm gonna go take a whiz. Be back in a mo."
As embarrassing as it is to admit, this is my first time going to take a piss on my own. But I'm determined to make it to and from the toilets without collapsing for a number of reasons: first, everyone should be able to do so; second, I know Liam will be on the receiving end of everyone's wrath if they knew I went to the restroom alone and my body gave up on me without anyone around to help; and third, I'm going to make myself stronger. With everyone constantly doing everything for me, it's no wonder I'm not getting better. I've got to start taking back control of my life.
But something stops me from making it to the restroom. Something that has nothing to do with how weak my body is and everything to do with the sound of my name as I pass by Harry and Niall's room.
"Louis' medications just gave him a crazy dream, okay? It just caught me off guard. Nothing more than that." That's Harry. There's a frustrated tone to his voice that adds to the deep, soft feel of it. I wonder what's got him so frazzled.
"Harry, you were out of the room practically before the words were out of Louis' mouth," Zayn counters - wait, Zayn? He said he was outside having a smoke. What's going on in there? The deadliest kind of curiosity has me forgetting about my trip to the restroom and instead creeping to the door to Harry and Niall's room. Against my better judgment, I press my ear against the wood and am not too surprised when I hear Niall in there, too.
"Harry, just tell us the truth." Niall's voice is much softer than Zayn's was and I get the feeling they're doing a good-cop, bad-cop kind of thing.
There's a lull in the conversation, a silence that has my heart pounding against my ribs in anticipation. What is Harry going to say? What are they even talking about? What's going on?
But it's Zayn that speaks up next, words that nearly have my breath catching in my throat and my heart pausing in my chest. "You kissed him. Didn't you."
It sounds like a statement, not a question.
Why are they even talking about this?
There's another pause which is answer enough for Zayn. "Damn it, Harry! Louis is in no condition for you to go making your move on him! He was just jumped, for shit's sake!" Zayn's tone and choice of words nearly has me cringing though they're not aimed at me. I can't imagine how Harry must feel.
"Jesus, Zayn, you think I don't know that?" Harry's voice has risen to a shout to match Zayn's and my shoulders curl in a bit, instinctively making myself smaller in the face of anger. The tension between them is leaking through the cracks of the door and filling my being. My slow-healing muscles are tensing but I don't move from the door, already past the point of no return. "It's my own bloody fault that it happened!" Harry continues from the other side of the door.
"Come on, Harry. It wasn't your fault." That's Niall's voice again, soft and soothing, but it's doing nothing to break the tension growing between Zayn and Harry. Like trying to cut a steak with a plastic knife. "Let's just take a minute to-"
"No!" Harry interrupts and the silence that stretches on is so loud that it makes my skin itch. "No," Harry finally says again, his voice much lower, no longer shouting but sounding much more dangerous. "We're not going to pretend Louis wasn't put in that hospital because of me. We're not going to pretend I'm not the one to blame here!"
"Would you stop making everything about you for one god damned minute?" Zayn snaps, the anger so clear in his voice that I flinch from the other side of the door. I've never heard Zayn so furious. "Could you, for once, stop thinking about yourself, Harry?"
"'ey, watch it there," Niall clips back, not liking the way Zayn is talking to his best mate. Quite frankly, I don't like it either. "We're all a bit tense here, okay? But Zayn, that was out of line-"
"Was it?" Zayn bites. "Tell me, Harry. Why did you kiss Louis immediately after he got out of a very serious relationship? Please explain to me how selfless that was because I am completely lost."
"Zayn," Niall warns but Harry cuts him off.
"No, Niall. He's right." Harry's voice has dropped to a dejected tone and I can practically see him collapsing onto the edge of his bed, head in his hands. "I kissed Louis because I couldn't not anymore. It was bad last night, Zayn. He thinks all those scars and marks left behind from the attack have ruined him. He's so self conscious of them and it kills me inside that he doesn't see how brilliant he is. He thinks these bruises and cuts make him ugly and he doesn't see that they reflect just how strong he is. He amazes me time and time again, but he loathes himself. And last night, I just couldn't take it anymore. I needed him to see, to understand that he's still beautiful, still worth being loved. He doesn't see that right now."
There's another lull in the conversation and if I thought I felt my heart beating before, I can feel it rocking against my ribs like waves against a ship. The sensation is too much and I slide down to the floor, my ear still pressed firmly against the door, anxious to hear more yet terrified just the same.
"He wouldn't let me look at him," Harry speaks again, his voice crackling on the word look. I can practically see the tears filling his eyes and my heart constricts. "And I knew when I did it, I knew he wouldn't react well. But I just thought he'd push me away or something, not - not this. He kissed me back and... I knew he was exhausted when it all happened, but I didn't think..." Harry trails off and guilt bleeds into me like a fresh wound.
Zayn's voice is much quieter when he speaks again and I know he's shed the bad-cop skin to comfort a friend. "Look, Harry. I know you've wanted this for a long time, but it was just the wrong place, wrong time. Louis just got out of a very serious relationship. Maybe at the moment he needed you to remind him there's still love out there for him. But that doesn't mean he was ready. For one, Louis' believed he's straight his entire life and suddenly this curly haired spaz-" Harry's quiet laugh echoes the word, "-comes along and everything's changing. Do you know why he and Eleanor broke up?"
Look, Harry. I know you've wanted this for a long time.
Even as their conversation goes on, Zayn's words circle through my head like a broken record.
"Yeah, he said Eleanor cheated on him."
Wanted what?
"I don't think that's it, though," Zayn confides. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm sure she fucked some rich French dude. Louis wouldn't make up something like that. But there was already distance growing between them. Know when that started?"
To kiss me?
"It started when you came back into Louis' life. Now, Louis' never told me any of this himself, I'm just purely going off observation. But Lou and Eleanor were completely lost in each other in the beginning of their relationship. Then you came along. And Louis was completely lost in you. So maybe you caught him off guard last night or maybe he misses Eleanor. Maybe both. Or maybe you gave him something that he's been wanting himself."
I scrub my hands down my face. This can't be happening.
"Zayn, you can't honestly think that Louis might feel something for me," Harry wonders but there's a glimmer of hope in his tone that wasn't there moments ago.
"I know you feel something for him. And I know I've never seen Louis as happy as when he's with you. I can't tell you what he's feeling or thinking because he won't tell me himself - but I can tell you that I've learned to read Louis better than you can read your Biology textbook. There's something between you two that's almost palpable. I can't imagine what it must feel like to finally get a taste of it only for it to be thrown back in your face. But I wish I had something - just a shred of what you two have with someone of my own."
This conversation is parallel to the one Liam and I were just having. Have all four of us been so wrapped up in our own personal feelings that we've completely overlooked our counterparts and focused on our best mates?
"So just give him time, mate," Zayn says and I can tell the conversation is coming to an end so I quickly get to my feet, biting back grunts of pain that will surely give me away to the boys on the other side of this door.
Niall's voice catches me before I speed walk back to my room, however. "But you need to tell him, Harry. He deserves to know." There's a rustling of paper and then I know the conversation is truly over.
Deserves to know what?
I walk as quickly as I dare back to my room and throw the door open then slam it behind me. To Liam's startled expression, I say, "Pretend I've been here for the last ten minutes," and dive into bed.
Liam opens his mouth to retort but then the door is swinging open and Zayn's stepping back into the room. He slips his pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket and onto his dresser, an accessory to his lie about going out for a smoke. Clever boy.
***
I sleep through the latter half of Liam's babysitting shift and all of Zayn's.
I awake to the smell of clam chowder and peel my eyes open in search of the wonderful food that's making my stomach rumble. I'm not sure when the last time I had clam chowder was and the thought of eating it has me awake faster than if I were going to Disneyland.
I spot the container with steam wafting over the top in the hands of Harry whose bottom jaw moves rhythmically and I realize that he must be chewing gum. He's only just walking into the room and closing the door behind him with his foot. When he looks up and sees that I'm awake, his mouth twitches into a half smile, though it doesn't reach his eyes. He lifts the bowl of food a bit. "I brought you dinner."
I reach out to take the hot container and as Harry hands it to me, I notice a piece of already opened mail fitted between his fingers. I settle the food on my lap and stare at the envelope in Harry's grip but my vision is too poor for me to make out any words on the envelope. My gaze lifts to meet Harry's and I nod toward the mail in his hand. "What's that?"
"Oh!" Harry exclaims and moves it to hold with both hands and look down at it himself as if he completely forgot what he was holding. I watch, transfixed as he sucks in his bottom lip in contemplation before coming to a decision and saying, "It's just some mail."
"Well, what is it?" I repeat.
Harry taps the bottom of the envelope rapidly with his pointer finger, a nervous habit that's making me nervous. What is he so reluctant to tell me? His eyes dart around the room in search of something - somewhere to sit I supposed as he settles on the side of Zayn's bed to face me head on. The intensity of his gaze has me setting down the bowl of clam chowder on the bedside table to give Harry my undivided attention, all hunger and food cravings forgotten. He watches the movement then his green eyes jump back to me. He takes a deep breath to prepare himself for what he's about to say and the anticipation is spreading through my veins like poison. I worry he'll bring up up last night because I honestly do not know what I would or could say to him regarding that, especially after everything I heard this afternoon. I nearly flinch when he opens his mouth to finally speak.
"Los Angeles wants me to go to school there."
I've never understood the phrase dropping the bomb when referring to a piece of news until this moment. I'm so caught off guard, so blown away that my world feels off kilter and like someone literally dropped a bomb in my life. Confusion fills my head like debris from an explosion and it takes me a few moments to clear it away. "I'm sorry. What?"
"Los Angeles wants me to study Biology there," Harry repeats, much slower than the first time. "They've got this program; trying to understand the memory part of your brain - why you lose certain memories and... how to get them back."
The silence weighs between us as Harry waits for my reaction. Shock is all that I can really register though. I mean, Los Angeles? As in America? Los Angeles wants him to go there, clear across the planet, to study Biology? To study the brain, more specifically the memory part of the brain? Learn how to recover lost memories? He could... He could get all his memories back. I could get my childhood best friend back. Our shared childhood would no longer be one-sided. Harry would no longer feel like such a burden. He could be the person I grew up with again. A majority of his life wouldn't be just stories to him anymore. Maybe the damage of the car accident isn't irreversible. And along with the prospect of regaining long lost memories, Harry would be helping so many others like him - those who have suffered traumatically and are left with a gap in their memories. This is everything Harry could possibly hope for.
Harry still sits there staring at me, his lips sucked in as he waits in anticipation for me to respond. I realize it's been a little while since he dropped the news and I've just been sitting here silently for the past few minutes, processing everything. Finally, I clear my throat and Harry straightens, bracing himself for what I'm going to say. "Are you going to go?"
Harry's eyebrows furrow together, apparently not expecting that as a reaction. He drops his gaze to scratch the back of his head. "Oh. Erm. I haven't decided yet. That's, erm, that's why I'm talking to you. I guess." He shrugs lamely.
My confusion mirrors Harry's. "What, you want me to decide for you?"
Reaching up to scratch the back of his head again, Harry curls in on himself, making himself smaller. He shrugs his narrow, pulled in shoulders and stares at the corner of my bed. "No, I just. You didn't want me to leave you again, so I... I don't know, Louis, I just. I thought you should know." Once Harry's finished stumbling over his words, he turns his eyes back to meet mine, bright green irises watching me through a thick set of dark eyelashes. I shiver under his gaze.
Is this what Niall told him to tell me?
I'm thrown back a couple weeks to when I was still in the hospital and Harry and I were in the midst of rekindling our friendship. I had selfishly asked that he never go away again and he had hesitated. This... this is what made him pause. I had unknowingly asked him to give this up for our friendship, and he did. Had I known what I was asking of him at the time, I would never have opened my mouth. It's not that I didn't want him to go live his life, it's that I didn't want him to leave me behind. But to hold him back from Los Angeles, from going after what he's dreamt of, what he came to university for, that's just cruel. And I won't be that person.
"Harry, if you're asking for my opinion, I think you should go for it." Harry straightens, his expression showing his confusion. I shrug a shoulder. "This is an amazing opportunity, Harry. A once in a lifetime chance. You could learn why you forgot everything and maybe you could even reclaim the memories. Don't let me hold you back."
"But, Louis. You said-"
"I know what I said, Harry," I gently cut him off. "But this is what I'm saying now. So go on. Go bring back memories from the dark abyss and live it up in Los Angeles with all the celebrities. Just don't forget about us little people here in England."
"What if I don't want to go?" Harry counters, the features of his face shifting to a stony, defiant expression.
"Don't be ridiculous, Harry. Of course you want to go."
"What if I don't want to leave you?"
That catches me off guard and I look down at my hands in my lap, my heart pounding so hard it nearly drowns out my scrambled thoughts. After what I heard this afternoon, I'm not sure how I should take this admission. Why didn't he mention not wanting to leave the other boys? Niall's his best friend. I mean, I get that he's talking to me right now, but after everything that's happened the past twenty-four hours, I'm not sure how I'm supposed to react or think or do anything. And here I thought I was finally getting better. "Well," I finally says, still staring down at my hands, watching my fingers tap together. I gather my courage though and lift my gaze to meet Harry's. "It's just a price to pay."
"Louis, I wouldn't give up our friendship for anything."
His words and the way he says them surprise me again. Soft and gentle, but definite. He's so sure about it that it doesn't even require a second thought. And there's no shame in his eyes. He's not embarrassed by the admission. I look back down at my hands, memorizing the lines that run over my palms as I search for something to say, to convince him to go. Do I want him to leave? Of course not. But I want him to leave his dreams more. And I know I asked him to stay, to not leave me again, but this is so much bigger than what I ever expected. Maybe Harry wants to keep true to his word, but I can't be the thing standing between him and his dream. That would make me nothing short of a monster. So I tell him as much. "Harry, I can't be the thing stopping you from living your dream."
"What if my dream involves you coming with me?" Harry insists and I ignore the fluttering in my stomach and my accelerated heart beat, forcing myself to focus on the task at hand.
"Harry, I can't just up and leave-"
"Then neither can I," Harry interrupts and we sit there silently for a moment, just staring at one another until the realization of what Harry said hits him and his cheeks flame adorably, his eyes dropping from mine to look at his feet. In response, my own cheeks warm at his honesty and we're just two blushing idiots refusing to meet each other's eyes. "Erm. I just mean..." Harry doesn't seem to know what he was trying to say, biting his lip and continuing to stare at his feet. He heaves a deep sigh and scrubs a hand over his face before lifting his eyes to mine, his green eyes staring at me in a way that suddenly makes breathing difficult. "Look, Louis. After that week and the attack-"
Immediately, I draw back. I hate thinking about that night. Are the scars disfiguring my body not enough of a reminder of that night? How weak I was? My eyes drop and I can't force myself to meet Harry's gaze, too shamed of myself and what that night entailed. "Harry, don't. We already talked-"
"Let me finish, Lou," Harry says in such a way that my lips press tightly together but I still don't have the courage to look him in the eyes. I just nod and listen to his words as he explains. "That week that we didn't talk to each other - those simple seven days - were fucking hell. I saw you everywhere, even when you didn't see me. Hell, even when you weren't there. Then I would see you with Eleanor and I just..." Harry doesn't know how to finish and starts again. "Then the attack happened and-" Harry cuts himself off again as his voice cracks. I lift my gaze just enough to see him on the other bed, covering his face with his hands as he regroups. I don't blame him, feeling my own heart try to crawl up my throat. After a minute, Harry drops his hands from his face with a sniffle. His eyes meet mine and I'm surprised to see a sheen of tears lining his eyes, not quite falling yet. "Then the attack happened and I was so scared I lost you, Lou. The guys told me you were in the ICU. They told me you weren't waking up. And Jesus, if those three days that you weren't waking up weren't the worse of my life, I don't know what was."
The emotion is so thick in Harry's voice that my eyes drop again, needing a distraction from the intensity of this moment, the heaviness of his words. I watch my left thumb idly run over one of the cuts lining my knuckles, distantly recalling scratching it when I had fallen to the pavement that dreadful night. It feels like a lifetime ago.
Harry's not having it, though. He gets off of Zayn's bed and sits on the edge of mine, so close that I can smell the vanilla of his soap and my heart flutters. "It was then that I figured it out, Lou. Yeah, I should have realized it ages ago. I think I may have known it from the moment we met but was just in denial. I need you in my life." Not satisfied with my still not meeting his eyes, Harry slips his hands under mine, soft, pale hands so different from my discolored, rough ones. But the touch does bring my eyes back up to his and my breath catches. I hadn't realized how close he's been sitting. "So, yeah. Maybe I'm a bit reluctant to go to Los Angeles. Maybe it's terrifying to think that you want me to leave after I just got you back. Maybe I don't want to blow my last chance with you."
I don't know what it is. Could be his words or maybe just the way he said them. Maybe it's all becoming a bit too much for me to handle. Maybe I'm just a coward that can't face Harry like he's so bravely facing me. Maybe I'm desperate just to make him shut up. I can't be certain what it is, but some instinct of mine has me pulling my right hand from Harry's loose grip and reaching up to grab a fistful of his luscious curls at the base of his skull, pulling his head toward mine and capturing his plump lips in a fierce kiss.
Harry's clearly caught off guard, not reacting at all for a moment as I desperately press my lips against his. Then his lips are moving against mine and his hands are moving up to cup my face. His kissing is slow, his touch gentle, and it's not at all what I want. I tighten my hold of his hair, pulling at his locks and relish in the deep groan it brings out of Harry. He catches on to what I want and wastes no time, using his current superior strength to lie me back so he's hovering over me, his teeth biting at my lip hungrily. His hands are now braced on the mattress on either side of my head, holding himself above me while mine hold the back of his neck and thick tendrils of hair, keeping his lips firmly pressed against mine.
Without pulling away, Harry shifts around until he's straddling me, though he's taking care not to touch me, his knees just centimeters from my hips.
The distance is driving me insane.
Desperate, I move my hand from the back of Harry's neck and drag it across his shoulder, nails raking his frustratingly clothed skin. I consider it a victory when Harry growls in response and bites my lip hard enough to reopen my split lip and make me gasp.
I ignore it but as soon as the blood touches Harry's tongue, he pulls away, still holding himself above me. His green eyes dance across my features, pupils blown with desire. His lips are swollen, a little stained with my blood, and I bite my bottom lip, tasting my blood mixed with the taste that's just Harry. I watch his eyes travel down to stare at my mouth as I glide my tongue across the reopened cut on my lip, watching his Adam's apple bob in response as I tuck my lip back between my teeth. One of my hands is still tangled in his hair, the other resting on his shoulder, and I almost use that leverage to pull his lips back to mine to continue what we started. But Harry's senses seem to be coming back to him, if a little slowly, and I don't want to force it on him.
Harry moves his left hand from the mattress beside my head and gently runs his fingers across my forehead, a feather of a touch as he swipes my fringe away, the expression on his face transforming from lust to one of wonder. He's got this look in his eyes as if he's not entirely here, lost in his head somewhere as his fingers gently caress my face, leaving traces of heat. My heart patters inside my chest, not sure what to expect. He just hovers over me, looking at me with such wonder in his eyes, and perhaps a hint of sadness, though I can't be sure. I've never seen this look before. His fingers trail down my cheek and follow an invisible path to my chin then up to my mouth. With a slight tug, barely a touch, he pulls my lip from between my teeth and his eyes drift back to mine, and I can see him coming back to himself. He glances to the side then turns back to me. "Your food's probably cold now. I'll go warm it up."
Harry pulls back and swings his leg from around me, getting to his feet despite my pathetic whimper and outstretched hands that pull gently at his shirt to make him stay. He picks up his envelope then looks back to me. He reaches out as if to touch me then pulls his hand back with a heavy sigh, as if he's carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. He grabs the chowder then beelines to the door, barely wasting time to say, "Be back in a bit, Lou," over his shoulder.
The door closes behind him.
My fingers curl in the blanket that's bunched around my knees and the sudden silence left in Harry's wake is like the highest note of a violin. The tension is high in the room though it's only me in here. The silence screams in my ears and the last few minutes replay in my head over and over again. Grabbing Harry, kissing Harry, touching Harry. I'm not sure what feeling it is rising inside me like a volcano getting ready to burst, but it's got my breathing coming quickly and I'm smacking the heel of my hand against my head, trying to knock some sense back into it.
God, what the hell is wrong with me? I wonder, closing my eyes in attempt to block out the images in my head but it only seems to make them shine brighter, imprinting themselves on the insides of my eyelids.
This wasn't supposed to happen. The was not supposed to happen. Harry's my best mate from my childhood - I mean sure, he doesn't remember that childhood, but still! What I did was so incredibly inappropriate and wrong on so many levels. I'm straight, for crying out loud! How could I let myself get so carried away? Am I just missing Eleanor enough to settle for anyone? Am I craving her touches and kisses so I use Harry's as a substitute? Am I just using him to fill the void? Jesus, how did it even happen? We shouldn't have been kissing each other - Harry's just a friend, I'm straight, and for God's sake, Harry was trying to tell me something important. What the hell is wrong with me?
You kissed him. Didn't you.
Zayn's words resonate in my head, suddenly demanding attention and I'm reminded of last night. I remember Harry's lips tracing my skin, banishing all the negative thoughts I had. I recall the fluttering in my stomach, so frantic it was almost violent as Harry's peppered me with sweet, affectionate kisses. Unspoken words communicated through the touch of his lips.
I needed him to see, to understand that he's still beautiful, still worth being loved. He doesn't see that right now.
I realize what that feeling is, growing inside me.
It's panic.
My breaths are coming fast, too fast. My heart fights to keep up and is beating so hard against my ribs I worry it'll break them again. A cold sweat breaks out on my forehead while my lips seem to burn with the memory of Harry's kiss. All I can think though, is that I kissed my best mate. How could I do that? And two nights in a row! And he - he let me. Hell, he's the one that kissed me the first time. That doesn't make me gay, does it?
I've never seen Louis as happy as when he's with you.
And Jesus fuck, Harry told Zayn and Niall! As much as I tried to deny that last night happened, that Harry and I shared a kiss that should never have been, it happened. My actions tonight and Harry's admission to Niall and Zayn prove as much. It was never a dream, it was never a secret. They know. They know that I kissed Harry, kissed another guy. And by now, Liam probably knows as well. Oh God, what if they all think I'm gay? I know they're okay with Harry being with boys, but - but this is different. This is so different. I'm not supposed to be gay and I'm not supposed to kiss my best mate! None of this should have happened!
At that moment, I hear footsteps coming up the hall and the door knob rattles. Without a second thought - or really a first one, at that - I turn on my side and pull the blankets up around me, feigning sleep as Harry re-enters the room.
I can hear his sigh from across the room.
"Good night, Louis."
Maybe guilt gnaws at me from hearing the disappointment in Harry's voice. Maybe I should pretend to wake up. Maybe I should shove away my cowardice and face him. Maybe I should talk to him about the last twenty four hours. Maybe I should figure this all out.
Maybe I don't. Maybe I really do fall asleep.
Maybe when I wake up, I don't acknowledge what happened last night.
Maybe when I wake up, nothing happened.
Maybe when I wake up, it was all just another dream.