“I’m sick of him being all upset.”
The words left Zayn’s mouth late that night. They had just wrestled Louis into his bed at the hotel room. He had been freaking out so bad at the studio earlier—dropped down onto the cold concrete floor in the back halls of the set, sweating and trembling and mumbling something about Harry. They had almost taken him to the hospital again to be sedated, like he had to be the day of Harry’s accident, but he had passed out asleep in the van on the way back to the hotel, so they weren’t too worried. But, getting him to bed had proved to be a different story. He had acted like a five year old that didn’t want to take a nap, but desperately needed it.
Now, Niall, Liam, and Zayn sat in the lounge area of Louis and Niall’s shared hotel room—Harry had specifically said that he did not want to room with Louis—clutching cups of tea and staring blankly around the room. With Louis barely asleep in the bedroom behind them and Harry lurking about in the room he was sharing with Liam, the air was thick and tense. Nobody really knew what the problem between the two was, and neither boy was willing to admit it any time soon.
So the rest of the band was left in the dark.
“I’m sick of it too, you know,” Niall muttered, tipping a little bit more of the thick transparent liquid from his flask into his cup of tea. “Not that he doesn’t have a good reason, it’s just… I don’t like seeing him like that.”
Liam watched with tightly pressed lips as Niall took in a long sip from the cup. Liam never liked it much when Niall drank, and he hated it now that it was because he was stressed. That was the third addition of whiskey to the cup of tea, and Liam reckoned it was more alcohol now than it was water.
“None of us do,” Zayn was saying now, staring almost lustfully at the chrome flask Niall held. “Can I have some of that?”
Niall wordlessly held out the flask to Zayn, who in turn took it and poured the remaining liquid into the cup he held. He pressed it to his lips hungrily, sucking it down, reveling in how the alcohol and heat burned his throat but numbed his head.
“I kind of want to do something to fix it, make him feel better, you know?” The blonde’s eyes were swimming now, as Liam watched him closely. His words were tangling together, slurring. “Like, take him to like, yeah.”
“Like an intervention,” Zayn drawled as he picked at the cuff of his sleeve.
“Yeah, that. But, can we? I mean, or, yeah.”
Zayn giggled, shifting in the armchair he was curled up in, his long legs tucked against his torso and coming up beneath his chin. “Niall, you aren’t making any sense.”
Liam turned and left the two to their buzzed banter as he thought about what Niall had said. An intervention… That actually made a lot of sense. Something that would cheer Louis up would do them all good.
An intervention sounded like a good idea.
Liam placed his now-empty cup onto the coffee table and got up to leave, going back to the room he shared with Harry. He mumbled goodbyes to Niall and Zayn, who were on the edge of what would become a full-blown tickle fight on the sofa, and slipped quietly out into the hall, where he padded to his room in socked feet. It was well after midnight now, and Harry had gone back to the room and said he was going to sleep at around ten, so Liam was careful to stay muted.
He slid the key into the door and pushed it open to total darkness. Liam padded over to the sofa that lay in the middle of the lounge/kitchenette area and flopped down onto it, sighing. His laptop was resting beneath him and he tugged it onto his lap and pulled it open to look up something, anything, that he could do to distract Louis from what was going on in his head lately.
One hour and a daring beer later, Liam had found a destination. He printed out a webpage and directions and folded them up, tucking them into the pocket of his jeans, which were draped across his suitcase. Poking his head into Harry’s room, he noticed that a Harry-shaped ball was curled up beneath the covers, and a tuft of curls poked out from the top of the blanket. He eased the door closed again, trying not to wake Harry, before going to bed himself.
Harry did notice the door open. The slight light pierced the darkness that he had sat in for the past three hours. He had drifted off to sleep one or two times, but woke up soon after in a cold sweat and shaking.
Why did he feel so guilty?
And why did that stupid Larry Stylinson thing chew at his insides like a parasite trying to eat him from the inside out?
*
“Louis! Louis! Up! Up!” Niall shouted as he bounced onto the bed that Louis was trying very hard to fall back asleep in. He wasn’t amused that the blonde had woken him up so early, especially when he didn’t want to get out of bed at all.
“Niall. Leave me alone,” Louis muttered, burying his face into his pillow to push back the stinging tears that were pricking at his eyes. “Please.”
Niall ignored his plea and shook him by the shoulders. “Come on, Lou! We have a surprise planned for you!”
“Niall. It’s fucking five in the morning! Let me sleep!”
As Louis lifted his head off of the pillow to glare at Niall, the younger boy took a moment to take in his appearance. His hair, matted in hairspray and wax that he hadn’t taken the time to wash out the day before, stuck to his sweaty forehead and was smashed to his head in tangled lumps. His face was pale and tear-tracked, and his eyes were a sullen grey color. Niall felt something wash over him, something that brought a prickly feeling to his throat. Everyone was so used to perky, bubbly Louis. Not broken, depressed Louis.
Niall tried to brush the feeling aside and tugged on Louis’ arm in a childlike fashion. “Come on,” he chided, widening his eyes and pouting. Niall wasn’t very practiced on the puppy dog look—that was Liam—but he knew how to make it work.
Louis looked at Niall, furrowed his eyebrows, and groaned.
“Fine, Niall, just give me a few minutes to get dressed and stuff, okay?” His words came out in a crammed grumble as he threw the covers off of himself, revealing jeans and a white jumper. He had just crashed without changing last night, apparently. “Actually, I might need a shower.”
Niall beamed and bounded out of the room, closing the door behind him.
Louis pushed himself upright on the bed, leaning down onto his arms and staring down at the ground. Thoughts ran through his heads—recollections—and they all made him want to tear his hair out. The boys had done the interview without Louis, claiming that he was severely ill with the stomach flu that day and therefore couldn’t make an appearance, while Louis quivered and whimpered on the gray sofa in their dressing room, broken out in a cold sweat that felt very much like he did have the stomach flu.
But no, Louis was just being an overdramatic whiny bitch, and he hated himself for it. He couldn’t pinpoint it, couldn’t figure out what it was that was driving his emotions wild and shooting him off the deep end. Obviously what had set him off the day before was the mention of Larry, but he didn’t get how that was such a big deal, either. Louis and Harry had always joked around about it, never let it get too serious. It was just a big joke to them.
Louis subconsciously began to try to determine when, exactly, it was that he began taking it more seriously. When had he started to take interest in Harry? When had he—
Wait. No. Louis wasn’t thinking about that, because Louis knew that his feelings were what could hold Harry beside him or push him away forcibly.
He shook his head, trying to loosen his hair, but it wasn’t budging. It was matted to his head and tangled in a mess of hairspray and hair wax and sweat. Not an amazing combination.
Stripping down and slipping through the door of the hotel bedroom into the connected bathroom, Louis turned on the shower, waiting for the steam to smack him in the face and clear up his nasal passages and finally let him breathe for the first time since the interview started yesterday. He stepped into the white porcelain tub, feeling the scalding water run over his skin, burning him, etching him red and raw. He scrubbed at his skin until it stung. He didn’t care though, and when he occasionally caught a glimpse of the angry red scars that were spaced along his thighs, he sort of remembered why.
Once he was clean and his skin was pink and tender, he switched off the water and stepped out of the shower, drying off quickly and wrapping a towel loosely around his waist. Once in his room, he threw on a pair of boxers and dark wash jeans, not even bothering to roll them up at his ankles, and put on a random jumper he found at the bottom of the suitcase. He honestly didn’t care about how he looked at this point. He figured the interviews and his emotional breakdown had ruined his reputation enough—the fans had surely heard of it, by the looks of his mentions on Twitter—and he was too tired to pretend.
He shuffled out of his bedroom, hair slightly damp and shoved off to the side, into the lounge, where Niall and Zayn were splayed across each other—Niall laying across Zayn’s lap, while Zayn’s legs were propped up atop the coffee table, his body slumped low into the sofa. They were watching some show on the television and shoving handfuls of popcorn and pizza rolls into their mouths and giggling at something stupid.
Typical.
Liam was in the room too, along with Harry. Liam seemed to be deeply interested in a pile of paper on his lap, where he was scribbling stuff down and circling random letters and looking like he was going to lose his hair if he didn’t do everything right, while Harry was knocked out asleep, head tilted back, mouth wide open. There was a time when Louis would have squirted a can of whipped cream into his mouth, and probably all over his face, too. But that time wasn’t now.
Louis broke the silence by clearing his throat.
“So, uh, Niall said there was going to be a surprise for me?” he inquired awkwardly as he shuffled his feet and gazed at the ground.
Liam’s head snapped up and his face broke into an enormous grin. “We’ve taken it upon ourselves to stage an intervention for you, Louis,” he announced, reshuffling the papers on his lap yet again. “We’re taking you to Hershey Park.”
“You’re taking me to—what?”
Niall let out a ridiculously loud laugh that ground Louis’ nerves. His head snapped over to where Zayn was poking Niall in the sides and almost had to suppress an urge to rip their heads off.
What was wrong with him these days?
Niall straightened himself up and scooted away from Zayn, pulling his shirt down. “Hershey Park! Sounds fun, right? We kind of figured that we could get for a break, you know?”
For some reason, Louis felt infuriated. But he felt sort of intrigued at the same time. They were supposed to perform there for their 2013 tour, but all their performances were bumped back because of Harry’s accident. None of the guys had actually been there before, so they had the chance to explore. And why not? What bad would it cause?
“Well… Alright. I say I’m in,” Louis sighed, collapsing down on the sofa next to Zayn.
He watched quietly as Harry shifted and rolled over to his side, curling up into himself. He pulled his knees up and folded them up against his chest, tucking his head down. He looked like a sleeping kitten. Louis had to resist the urge to go over to him and press a kiss to those perfectly bowed lips and—
Wait, what?
“So, when are we leaving?” Louis wondered aloud as he picked at his fingernails, looked around the room, and gnawed on his bottom lip—anything to keep his mind away from Harry. He couldn’t let his thoughts wander anymore. The past few days had proved that enough. Louis alone had fucked up two interviews for the entire band, and he couldn’t afford to put them through any more stress than they already were.
But at the same time, Louis’ mind felt like it was curling in on itself and that his thoughts were quietly strangling him alive. What was he going to do if something weird happened, and he couldn’t put up with it anymore? If Harry never remembered, and decided to leave the band? If Harry never remembered Louis?
“As soon as you can get packed,” Zayn said with a wink.
Louis shook his head and went into his room, shoving things into his suitcase as he did.
*
Zayn and Niall wrestled in the backseat as Liam rolled his eyes from his seat behind the wheel. Harry was knocked out in the passenger seat, and Louis was wedged between the door and Zayn.
“You’re ticklish,” Zayn observed as he poked Niall in the side for the eighteenth time since their ride started. Louis thought we would have been able to get at least a little bit of sleep, but apparently not, because Zayn and Niall wouldn’t shut up and sit still.
Niall kicked his foot out and squirmed away from Zayn’s fingers. “Stop, I know where you’re ticklish too, Zayn!” he squealed, grabbing at Zayn’s wrists and pulling them away from his waist and clamping them to Zayn’s chest.
Louis rolled his eyes and leaned his head against the door. He needed more sleep than this. It was driving him absolutely insane. His head pounded and his lids were heavy. When he had agreed to this whole three-hour-drive-to-Hershey-park thing, the expected to get some rest out of it, not listen to Niall and Zayn wrestle and mess around like four year olds.
“It would be nice,” Louis began before he was cut off by an aggressive elbow to the ribs from Zayn, “if I could maybe get some shut-eye without you two kicking me in the face every two seconds.”
Zayn froze and looked over at him, while Liam rubbed his eyes at the front seat and yawned. Zayn caught the movement from him.
“Hey, do you want me to drive?” Zayn asked, pushing Niall off of his lap as he sat up straighter. “You didn’t go to bed until pretty late and you got up really early. I’ll drive so you can rest. We still have about an hour and a half to go.”
Liam’s eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, where they met Zayn’s gaze. “Sure, thanks. I’ll find somewhere to stop for gas and then we can switch.”
Louis took a deep breath as Liam switched lanes and took the next exit, driving along for a little bit before actually getting off the road and pulling into a gas station. Zayn shoved Niall from the car and the two of them got out, leaving grumpy Louis and sleepy Harry in the car as the three of them ran inside to pay for the gas and buy snacks and drinks.
Louis didn’t really realize how tired he actually was until he was jostled awake by the sound of doors slamming and a bag of crisps hitting him in the face. He snapped upright, only to find a mess of curls nestled into his shoulder as Liam adjusted himself in the passenger seat and Zayn started the car.
He looked across Harry, who was falling back asleep by the second, back to Niall.
“How long were you in there?” he asked, rubbing his neck, his voice scratchy.
Niall’s cheeks blushed a bright crimson. “About a half hour… I couldn’t decide which snacks I wanted… I ended up getting all of them.”
Louis scoffed, smiling to himself, as Harry snuggled closer to him, grabbing his arm and pulling it beneath his torso, fitting his head into Louis’ shoulder. The older boy grinned, shifting so that his arm wasn’t twisted and so he didn’t disturb Harry. Of course, moments like this didn’t happen often with Harry so out of it, so he decided he was going to take advantage of it. He leaned his head against Harry’s curls and closed his eyes, falling asleep before he really even knew it.
*
He was woken up, again, by slamming doors and people moving beside him. Louis cracked his eyes open, stretching his neck, which had become stiff from leaning against Harry’s head for an hour while they both slept, only to find that Harry had left the car and Liam was pulling at papers in the passenger seat. Liam finally got out, closing the door behind him. Louis stretched and threw his door open, stepping out onto his numbed legs and shifting his weight back and forth. Looking up, he noticed two things in the sky—a huge yellow coaster track, and a giant white Ferris wheel.
He walked around the back of the car and leaned against the fender as Liam tugged out a backpack and slung it over his shoulder. Harry was slumped sleepily against the back door and Niall and Zayn were engaged in a very intense staring contest.
“What are we doing first, Liam?” Louis asked, rubbing his eyes against the sunlight that streaked into them.
Liam shrugged his shoulders and slammed the hatch of the SUV closed. “No idea,” he said nonchalantly, almost sleepily. “Whatever you guys want to do, and by you guys I mean Niall.”
Niall’s head snapped up as he heard his name, and his blue eyes twinkled. “Can we do Chocolate World? Please, Liam, please? I’ll buy you your own chocolate bar!”
Liam had to chuckle to himself as Zayn wrapped his arm around Niall. He was seriously way too precious.
“We can do that tomorrow, Niall,” Zayn teased, poking Niall in the ribs yet again, making the tiny blonde squirm beneath Zayn’s arm. “We have a hotel room tonight, today we’re just doing the rides, alright?”
Niall’s face dropped, but he nodded. Liam glanced at his watch.
“So, it’s nine now, and the park closes at eleven at night today,” he mumbled, adjusting some folded papers in his pocket. “So, uh, that means we have a lot of hours, take out a few to eat of course, and there’s waiting times, and obviously dinner. So, that means we should be able to get a few rides in before lunch, which should probably be around, uh, noon? Unless you guys aren’t hungry by then, I mean, that’s totally fine, we can eat whenever we want to. I have a map, like, in case we get lost, and if any of you separate from the group we’re going to rendezvous over by the carousel at the—”
“Liam,” Zayn cut in, placing a hand on the other boy’s shoulder. “Shut up. Can’t we just let loose? Have fun? No schedules and no plans. Just go with it.”
Liam stared at him for a moment, his brows turning inward, before his face lifted and he grinned widely. He ripped the map and list out of his pocket and shoved it into his backpack. “You know what? Why not?”
About twenty minutes later, Niall was already dragging the five of them to the new enormous rollercoaster, Skyride.
*
“I don’t think I have ever tasted a better burger than this, good God.”
Liam watched in awe as Niall stuffed another bite of his cheeseburger into his mouth and wiped his face, chewing like a maniac. The boy really knew how to eat. Everyone was finished with their meals by now, shoved off in some secluded corner of the eatery where there would be a minimal amount of fans. They hadn’t been completely mobbed today—people knew how to respect their wishes here, apparently—and were quite enjoying themselves. It was almost closing time, but they had time for one more ride… after Niall finished eating, that is.
Harry suddenly leaned over and snatched a handful of French fries from Niall’s plate. They all turned and stared at him, but he couldn’t figure out why it was such a big deal.
“What?” he asked, putting a fry in his mouth and tugging his beanie down onto his head. “They looked tasty.”
Zayn leaned over and hugged him. Harry wrinkled his nose, not understanding why, but he let it go.
Louis had his head rolled back, staring at the ceiling, his tongue hanging out. “Niall, hurry up,” he whined, flapping an arm. “I’m bored. That’s your second burger. Come on.”
Niall grinned as he popped the last bit of the burger in his mouth, shoving the plate of fries over to Harry. He took them eagerly and picked one up, shoving them into his mouth.
Suddenly, the opening notes to a song they knew too well came over the stereo system in the restaurant. Zayn froze and smirked up at the ceiling almost fondly. It was almost a year since they released “What Makes You Beautiful,” and it was still playing all over the place. He was about to divulge into the whole ‘better times’ thing, when a familiar rocky voice softly singing along to the incoming lyrics tore his thoughts apart.
He leaned over, as did everyone else at the table. Louis’ head snapped up from where it was lolling around at the back of the chair. Liam stopped fiddling with his silverware, and Niall dropped his napkin as they all listened to Harry singing the opening verce of “What Makes You Beautiful.”
“Harry,” Louis breathed, almost whispered. “Do you… You remember this song?”
He nodded, casually popping another fry into his mouth. “Yeah, it’s our song, isn’t it? Our first single.”
Louis felt tears bite at his eyes as he flung himself at Harry. Maybe he wasn’t as lost as everyone thought he was, after all.
Louis soon found himself thinking harder than he should be as they all waited for Harry to finish the rest of Niall’s fries. So, within the past seven minutes, Harry had not only picked at Niall’s food, much in the way that he did before the accident, he also remembered their first single. This was amazing, no doubt. But there was also that fact that Harry was so stiff in their hug, the way his face went from a contorted, confused grimace to a forced smile as soon as Louis pulled away. What did that even mean? What did Louis do that was so wrong? Why was Harry pushing him away? Of course, it could be the fact that Louis was forcing his feelings upon—
What the fuck? No, he wasn’t.
He wasn’t given much time to ponder it, however, before they were up and being tugged across the park by Liam, who “needed to go on the Ferris wheel so badly” before they left. It was a long journey; they were constantly stopped by fans along the way, but not mauled, so it worked. The photos and autographs weren’t such a bad thing.
They finally made it to the Ferris wheel, where a line had already started forming. Niall and Zayn had subconsciously made the decision that they would sit together, and Liam was talking to some lucky fan, and promised her that he would sit with her. Which left Harry and Louis, and unless they each sat with a fan, they were stuck with each other.
Soon, they were up at the head of the line, and Zayn and Niall were pushed into a basket, and Liam and the fan, and soon Harry and Louis were ushered into a basket, too. They were moving up before they even noticed it, the roar of the fans barely subduing itself below them.
“Hi,” Harry murmured innocently, his arm and thigh and well, entire left side pressed against Louis’ right. Louis couldn’t ignore the fact that he was totally at a loss for words right now, and was kind of grateful for Harry’s ignorant bliss. And, from up here, the entire park was kind of pretty, in the dark.
“Hey, Harry.” Louis felt dejected, and it showed in his voice.
Harry tilted his head to the side, pulling his beanie down a bit more. He couldn’t show the fans that fuzzy spot on the back of his head, even if it was growing back fast. “Louis, are you okay?”
Louis stared back into Harry’s face, their breath ramming into each other in the night air. Harry’s eyes were so huge, so green, so bright. And the fact that Harry cared so much, it through Louis off.
“Of course I’m okay, Hazza,” he began, but it was useless. His voice was small.
Harry slinked an arm around Louis’ shoulders, tugging him close. “I don’t think you’re okay,” he murmured, and Louis’ breath hitched when he felt Harry’s fingers in his hair. “And I kind of want you to talk to me about it, because, well, we’re supposed to be best friends, right? And we’re not going to help anything by ignoring each other.”
As soon as the words left Harry’s mouth, he wasn’t sure why. But he was. His silent agreement with himself that he had made a while ago—the one where he told himself that he would be distant from Louis, would pretend to be mad at him—had dissolved last night, when Harry was finally left alone with his thoughts. So, he would try to maybe make a friendship work with Louis. But, ‘supposed to be best friends’? That didn’t make any sense. They would be best friends if they wanted to be. Things now were different.
Louis sighed, shifting beneath Harry’s arm, and for some reason, Harry just wanted to wrap another arm around him and cuddle him into his shoulder. “I’m just… I don’t know, Harry. I’m scared.”
“Of what?” Harry’s fingers continued to play at the soft, satiny hair at the nape of Louis’ neck, causing goosebumps along his skin and a chill up his spine.
“I don’t know. You not remembering and… things being different. I don’t like change, Harry,” he confessed, burying his face into Harry’s curls and taking a deep breath. “I don’t like it unless I’m ready for it. And there’s been so much that’s changed in the past few months that I don’t know what to do with it. And it sucks, it really does, because everything is making me all panicked and I’m afraid and literally, every time I get in a shower, I think of what happened to you, and it drives me nuts, because I love you, Harry, I love you more than you know, and I don’t… I can’t stand the fact that I could be losing you because you can’t remember anything. And yeah, it’s selfish but I can’t help it, Harry. I can’t.”
Harry felt something weird in his throat. He felt choked, like he couldn’t breathe. Wrapping another arm around Louis, he pulled the older boy close, waiting for Louis’ arms to slither around Harry’s limber frame, finally relaxing when they did. Louis pulled his face from Harry’s hair and just looked out over the park, because wow, they were at the top of the wheel now, and wow, the view was spectacular.
“Look, Louis,” Harry began, his enormous hand resting at the nape of Louis’ neck as they cuddled. “I’m always going to be here. I’m not going to leave. I may not remember everything, every moment and inside joke, but, hey… even if I don’t, I’m still going to be here. I remembered our first single today when I didn’t a few days ago. That’s progress, that makes a difference.” Louis nodded against Harry’s neck, and a smile crept up Harry’s face, although he didn’t know why. “And I’m always going to be your best friend. Who cares if we don’t have the old memories? We can make all new ones, Louis. All by ourselves.”
Louis grinned, ignoring the burn behind his eyes. Why would he be crying? He had nothing to be sad about. He was cuddling with Harry. Cuddling. While Harry was awake this time. They hadn’t had that since before Harry’s accident. It was fresh, but it was familiar at the same time. And it made Louis ridiculously happy. Maybe things would be okay between them. No, things would definitely be okay with them.
Harry took a daring thought for a moment and pressed a kiss to Louis’ cheek, not really caring at the moment. It felt right, so what?
Gentle heat spread through Louis’ face and an enormous smile broke out, clouding his eyes, pushing out the tears that refused to stay at bay.
“Glad I have you, Harry,” he confirmed, staring out at the twinkling lights that lined the wooden coasters over along the distance.
“Glad to have you too, Lou. I’m not going anywhere, trust me.”
Louis made sure to wipe his face before the wheel started coming down, and he swore to himself that his legs weren’t wobbly when he stepped off. But he was lying to himself.
His legs were a bowl of Jell-O.