It had been four days since he last saw Louis, which was a lot to him considering they had spent almost every moment together since he got out of the hospital. Of course, he expected this. The moment he said the words and saw Louis' confused face, he felt the perfect glass bubble surrounding them shatter, and now, he was left in the pieces, wondering what he could possibly do to make everything okay again.
His phone buzzed in his lap as he laid in bed. Another call from Gemma, but he wasn't going to answer. What would he even say? Although he knew he deserved to be chastised for his words, he didn't feel like hearing it from her. He didn't feel like being reminded that Louis was delicate, that he could've just made Louis feel worse. And what made this all worse was that he lived so close to him. As much as he should give him space, he wanted to just go downstairs and make all of this better, but what could he even say? He still wasn't sure what he felt, much less what he should say to Louis about his feelings.
He let out a heavy sigh.
Of course he loved Louis. He always would care about him deeply; Louis knew him in such an intimate way that no one else had. Still, he wasn't sure if he was still in love with his ex-husband. So much damage had been done during the divorce, so many words said that couldn't be unsaid. And even long before the divorce, there were so many fights that had completely made Harry resent him. How could all of that just go away? Practically, how could either of them be expected to just move on and forgive each other for everything, or even forgive themselves for the mistakes they made?
A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts, and although he knew it likely wasn't, he hoped against all hope that it was Louis. He rolled out of his bed and trudged towards the door. Who could possibly need him on a weekend of all days?
Irritated but still a little hopeful, he swung the door open and was disheartened to see his sister at the door, her hands on her hips and her lips pursed into a tight frown. She looked just like their mum when she was mad, and it made him miss her a little more than usual. He knew his mum would know how to help him. She always loved Louis.
Without waiting for an invitation, Gemma shoved her way past her brother and sneered at the state of his house.
"Housekeeper had the week off?" She spun in a circle and gestured at the discarded pizza box and several piles of clothes. Admittedly, his house was already neglected before considering he had spent all of his time with Louis, but since that day, things had gotten significantly worse. Although the apartments came with optional housekeeping, he felt guilty using it too frequently and would feel outright embarrassed if she had to deal with this disaster.
"Haven't felt up to cleaning," he retorted as he sank himself into his couch and cradled his head into his hands. "What are you doing here?"
"Well," Gemma began as she sat herself beside him, wrinkling her nose and tossing aside a pair of pants. "I was nearby visiting El and thought I would see you and Louis."
She said his name like a question, pausing to see if he would volunteer information. When he didn't move to reply, he continued.
"Of course, you haven't been answering your phone, and neither has Louis. At first, I thought you just wanted to be alone together, but after a visit to Louis' first, I quickly saw that wasn't the case."
Harry lifted his head to peer at her, an eyebrow raised. He wanted to ask how he was, but he didn't want to give her the satisfaction. For some reason, he felt immensely irritated at his sister. This just didn't feel like her business. Finally, he spoke.
"And how was that?"
She snorted humorlessly.
"He's as bad as you are, though he isn't naturally as messy it seems," she said. Before, that would've made Harry feel good to know that Louis felt just as bad as he did, but now, all he felt was deep guilt and nausea. "What happened?"
He exhaled and leaned back on the couch, his eyes on the ceiling. "He didn't tell you?"
"He did," she admitted. "But I want to hear it from you."
He told her what happened. He didn't feel like fighting her on this.
"Harry," she said after he had finished. She tried to keep emotions off her face, but he could tell his sister was upset for him. Her eyes bore into him with pity. "You should talk to him."
He stood up at that, unable to keep his emotions in.
"What am I supposed to say, Gemma?" He began pacing madly and raking his fingers through his hair. "I don't know how I feel, so what do I tell him?"
She stared, and he knew she wasn't sure either.
"I don't know," she started. "Maybe just be honest that you don't know how you feel?"
"What, and just take it back? Tell him I might not mean it?"
"Anything is better than nothing!" She stood now as well and pointed downstairs to Louis' apartment. "He's confused too, Harry, and he's hurt and embarrassed!"
"Are you my sister or his?" He stopped pacing now and stood directly in front of her, irritation and anger boiling to the surface. "Because, in case you haven't noticed, I am just as confused, and I don't need you coming into my apartment demanding answers about my relationship when you certainly are in no position to offer relationship advice!"
"And what is that supposed to mean?"
He laughed dryly. "Take a look at Elia! You don't even have the guts to ask her out when you so clearly want her!"
"I'm taking things slow, Harry," she said sharply. "Something you wouldn't know how to do! How selfish of you to jump into this with him when you know he isn't—"
"Oh, please!" he rolled his eyes. "He's an adult. He doesn't need you to be his watch dog!"
"Someone has to look out for him, but what would you know considering you abandoned Mum!"
He knew as soon as the words left her lips she regretted them.
His face fell and he shrank from his sister, stunned that she would bring their mother's death into this.
She continued.
"She wasn't well, and you left her alone anyway. Don't preach to me about Louis when you couldn't help her."
His lip trembled as he spoke.
"I... I didn't know," he blinked rapidly, but tears still poured from his eyes.
Now the regret hit her. They had never talked about their mother's death, and it took him ages to get to a place where he didn't blame himself. When it first happened, Harry constantly wondered how he couldn't see that their mum was sick; he shouldn't have let her leave that night.
But he realized that he should have seen it. He realized that he might have seen it if he wouldn't have left home to pursue his dreams.
She moved towards him, but he flinched away.
"I didn't mean it," she began, but he had already walked towards the door and thrown it open.
With a pause, she left.
He stood at the open door, still shocked and stared at the floor. The familiar sense of guilt and shame crept into his bones. As he stood there, he heard footsteps then saw a pair of familiar Vans on the floor in front of him.
He was shocked to see Louis standing there, his hands in a forest green hoodie, and his lips parted with surprise. He froze. He didn't want Louis to see him like this.
"Harry?" He stepped closer. "What happened?"
"I-I..." his words failed him. "Gemma."
He couldn't say anything else.
Louis nodded understandingly.
"She came to my place too," he said casually. "I thought I heard you guys fighting."
Harry's face flushed scarlet. He hoped Louis didn't hear those words. He didn't want him to remember that Harry wasn't there for his family.
"In fact," Louis continued, shifting his weight onto his other foot as they continued to stand in the hallway. "I thought I heard Gemma mention your mum."
He drew in a quick breath, his heart lurching at his sister's name. He was still shocked. Usually, Harry was the one who said hurtful things. Harry was the one who lashed out, but in this case, he supposed he deserved it.
Louis squeezed past him into the apartment before gently grabbing his waist and shutting the door behind them. He lead Harry to the bedroom and sat him on the bed before sinking in beside him.
Tentatively, he grabbed his ex-husband's hand and squeezed it.
"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked.
Harry moved away. He felt awful that Louis was coming to his rescue when he was the one who needed to be taken care of.
Shame weighed heavy on his heart as he remembered all the people he had failed to protect. Louis. Gemma. His mum.
He shivered at the coldness that crept into him with the guilt and grief.
"Do you remember when you took me to meet her?" Louis mused, a small smile playing on his pink lips. Harry's own mouth curled slightly at the ends, but it looked more like a grimace than a smile.
"Yeah," his voice cracked. He cleared his throat. "You weren't expecting it."
He let out a light laugh then said, "No, I wasn't."
As he remembered, his pain seemed to worsen; he missed that night almost as much as he missed her. He recalled the warm kitchen after their third date, where Louis first greeted his mother nervously. By the end of it all, they loved each other of course. He believed that his mum and Louis were two of the most lovable people in his life.
"I never told you this before," Louis began as he played with a loose thread of the cuff of his sleeve. "But she called me after we... you know..."
Harry's brow furrowed curiously.
"What did she say?" He was eager to know something more about her. It almost made it feel like she was still alive.
"Well," he scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. "She said she didn't think it was it for us."
It was silent for a moment as Harry pondered this. No matter how much he insisted otherwise, she had said the exact same thing to him as well when it happened. She wasn't disappointed or angry, but her voice was steady and knowing when she had told him that so matter-of-factly. At the time, it annoyed him, but now, as he sat with his ex-husband with such a comforting familiarity, he had to at least give her credit for believing they wouldn't hate each other forever.
"Yeah, she said that to me too," He admitted as he peered at Louis with a small smile. Even beyond the grave, he could still imagine how she would have reacted to this rekindled relationship between the two of them.
"Harry," He became serious, gazing at him so intensely that he almost wanted to look away. "You know it's not your fault. You couldn't have known..."
He closed his eyes and released a shaky breath.
"Maybe I didn't know it was that bad," he admitted. "But I knew she wasn't okay. I knew it, and I still moved away anyway."
"She wouldn't have wanted you to pass up new opportunities, Harry," Louis said earnestly. "It's not anyone's fault. She knew the diagnosis, knew the risks of not seeking treatment and still carried on."
"She was scared, Lou," he replied.
When she first began to lose weight and become weak, she told him it was a diagnosis of an autoimmune disorder, but he learned after her death that it was a tumor in her brain. The night she passed, Harry learned that she suffered a stroke behind the wheel. He had known it had been hard on her when he moved away, but he still thought they were close enough emotionally for her to have told him about her condition.
"I understand that. I don't blame her either," Louis placed a hand on Harry's knee. "Look, why don't we talk about this later? It's late, and you're just going to feel even worse if you don't sleep."
Harry nodded, too tired to argue with that. Crying always wore him out.
"Stay?" He asked in a small voice.
He turned back and smiled widely. "I wouldn't leave you like this even if you begged me to, H."
He didn't say anything, but he felt warm. He missed Louis, and although this wasn't the ideal situation for them to begin talking again, he was still glad to have him there.
With Louis' scent in his nose as he laid on his chest, he drifted to sleep, pretending everything would just be okay again.
~*~
Hey, guys.
I got my first rude comment a few days back on an old update about me being kicked out. I just wanted to remind you guys to please treat people with kindness, and remember that outside of my life on Wattpad as a creator, I'm a very real person with very real feelings.
Thank you to those of you who came to my defense and met their words with love and compassion rather than hate.
I love you all.
-Michelle