ayeee.
so i don't have the answers to your character asks posted yet but i'll have them up by the end of the night or by tomorrow, promise! i just really really wanted to spend the rest of my night working on friends. and i started another larry storyyy called sweet devastation. basically, louis and harry get into a car accident when they're out celebrating their four year anniversary. louis dies in the crash and harry suffers permanent brain damage. so every morning harry wakes up and he can't remember that louis is dead. (sort of like fifty first dates if you've ever seen that movie) and yeah.
sorry i didn't upload this weekend, i was tired on friday and saturday i got a terrible migraine in the afternoon and then i was pooped for the rest of the night. but now i'm here.
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@Louis_Tomlinson is a fag.
Can't believe @Louis_Tomlinson has been a faggot this entire time.. sad day for this fandom.
Where's there's one homo there's always another.. @Louis_Tomlinson Who's your loverboy?
Absolutely repulsive. I've let my young daughters listen to their music, I've let them go to their performances, I've even let them hang posters of these boy in their room. What kind of band allows such a freak show into it? This is an #abomination!!
Go to hell @Louis_Tomlinson.
I'd shove my foot up your fucking ass but I think you'd enjoy it too much @Louis_Tomlinson fags like you deserve to die
Please, pray for forgiveness. I've always looked up to you and it's so disappointing to see @Louis_Tomlinson making such a terrible mistake.. #gayisNOTokay
@JohannahDarling how do you deal with @Louis_Tomlinson?? if i had a gay son i'd shoot that fucker and try again. #sorrynotsorry
Kinda hate gay people tbh but @Louis_Tomlinson you're the biggest faggot of them all.
There are so many. So many hateful words being said about Louis, so many that all the positive feedback and support are being drowned in them. He wipes at his teary eyes as he scrolls through his thousands and thousands of mentions; it's hard to remain silent when all he wants to do is scream and launch the phone at the wall.
Harry had been hiding it from him for the past few days and given everyone strict instructions to ignore Louis' persistent questions about the topic and deny him the permission he'd need to use their phones to check social media. But it's three in the morning and Harry is asleep in the master bedroom (Louis technically belongs in the guest bedroom but often makes his way into Harry's bed sometime in the middle of the night ((he doesn't know why he bothers to even start off in his own, to be honest))). Louis found his phone tucked in one of Harry's shoes - what a stupid hiding spot - and he couldn't help it, really.
He angrily deletes comments from his instagram photos, snappily replying to a select few that piss him off just slightly more than the others. He feels like everytime he refreshes the notications more hate washes in like a wave crashing onto the shore of a beach.
If there's one thing that Louis can't stand, it's this.
He's been at it for an hour. He's not sure if he's angry or sad or hurt or depressed or maybe a mix of everything, but he sure as hell isn't happy. And he's mad at himself for tweeting just as he is mad at Harry for letting him, though he knows it's not Harry's fault he still chooses to blame him because it's easier than accepting responsibility for his actions.
Louis makes his way into Harry's room again after five minutes of glaring at his feet. Harry's sprawled out on his bed, curled up sort of awkwardly around a pillow. He's snoring quietly and a lot of the blankets have been pushed to the ground, probably from all of his rolling around, but he still looks ten times more peaceful than Louis wishes he could be. He tugs the pillow out of Harry's grip and tries to slot himself in Harry's limp arms, but it's hard because Harry's body is like dead weight on Louis' chest as he squirms around.
Louis supposes the insistent huffing and puffing in his ear probably woke Harry up, because Harry stretches (his fist hits Louis in the face, but it's okay) and blinks his eyes open lazily. "Louis?"
"No, it's the tooth fairy," Louis says quietly; his voice seems to be unable to rise higher than a whisper.
Harry laughs quietly, but his giggling dies down when Louis' watery smile turns into flat out tears. "What's wrong?"
"Harry, does God exist?"
Harry sits up. "I don't - I don't know, Lou. Why? What's going on?"
"Why would he make me this way, Harry? Why would he make me this way just to hate me, why does everybody hate me?" Louis goes to grab at the material of Harry's t-shirt, but Harry isn't even wearing one; instead Louis clenches his small hands into fists and rests them on Harry's chest as he hiccups. "They told me to be myself, they told me to be unique - but they hate me."
"Who hates you? What are you going on about?" Harry asks in bewilderment. "Louis?"
"And now the band - oh God, the band. The band is going to fall apart. People won't buy our music anymore, people won't show up at shows, people won't support our fragrances or anything like that Harry, because I'm in the band. I need to leave the band."
"What? You're not leaving the band!" Harry squaks. "Louis, don't be ridiculous."
"Harry, 'm not being ridiculous. I'm not dragging you all down with me, I can't be the cause of that. Fucking hell, it's all my fault, can't you see? It was a terrible idea." Louis is sobbing now, he's sobbing into Harry's embrace; nothing feels right. He feels as if he's been punched in the chest. There's a physical pain settled deep in his heart that throbs with every beat that signals that he's still living. Still living, still alive - still a freak. "I should have just - I should have just shut up and dealt with the fact that I don't like girls. I should have gotten married to a nice woman and had nice kids and lived in a nice house in the suburbs."
"Louis-"
"No, Harry. I can't deal with this, I feel suffocated, I can't breathe, I-"
"Louis. You need to calm down," Harry stresses, trying to gently push Louis away from where he's clinging to Harry. As soon as he pulls Louis away, though, his limbs flail out and he tries desperately to fold in on himself. It's a heartbreaking sight, but Harry still has no idea what's causing Louis' blubber. He knows Louis gets worked up easily, but that doesn't make it any easier to watch.
"Can't, can't calm down-" Louis hiccups. "They hate me, they all hate me. Everyone hates me. You hate me. You hate me, don't you? That's why you left me. You left because you hate me."
"I don't hate you," Harry soothes.
Louis goes silent for a second. "And?"
"What?"
"You said, 'I don't hate you'. And?"
"What do you mean, and?" Harry furrows his brow. Louis pulls away from him, wiping the salty tears from his face and pushing his fringe back.
"You're supposed to tell me that you - you know what, nevermind," Louis goes to climb off the bed. Harry grabs his arm before he can, though; it's way too early for this sort of situation, he thinks, but it's Louis so he's not sure if he really minds all that much.
"No, tell me."
"It's silly. I'm - sorry, I just. I lost it for a second there."
Realization hits Harry with a pang. "Louis, did you look at Twitter?"
Silence.
"Louis," Harry says sympathetically. "You can't listen to what they say-"
"It's over," Louis says shortly. "What's been said is said. I can't take it back. I need to deal with it. And I will. Goodnight, Harry."
"Do you want to sleep in here?"
Louis freezes, but he's got his back to Harry so he can't see the expression on his face. "No. Not tonight."
Harry pretends his heart doesn't sink. "Oh. Um, alright. We'll talk later?"
"Yeah." Louis pauses at the doorway, looking back at Harry. "Um."
"Yeah?" Harry asks, pulling the covers back up his legs.
"I - I. Well. I lo-" Louis coughs awkwardly. "I lost.. my. Um. Nevermind."
"Goodnight?" Harry's beyond confused, but he's tired and figures he can work it out with Louis later, especially if the older lad is in one of his moods and has decided he's done speaking to Harry.
"Goodnight."