next to you ❀ l.s.

eleven - god help the child

"I need a favor. A pretty big one."

Liam had knocked on Louis's door at just past six in the morning. The string of curse words that fell from Louis's lips upon answering the door was too vulgar to even repeat; he had never been much of a morning person, and after long years of friendship, Liam should know better than to wake him up at such an ungodly hour.

However, the worried expression on his friend's face made Louis open the door wider, letting the other boy enter his apartment. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he followed Liam into the kitchen. He fumbled for the lightswitch, flooding the room with glaring light before asking groggily, "What's going on? What's wrong?"

"It's not me. It's Harry."

And Louis suddenly found himself fully awake.

Sitting at the kitchen counter, Liam recounted the whole story, from the moment he received Harry's mysterious text message last night to leaving the younger boy alone in bed just fifteen minutes before. Louis thought that Liam looked uncharacteristically tense. His fingers drummed nervously on the countertop, and he had checked his watch about five times already in the two minutes they had been talking. Liam was generally on the collected one in stressful situations like this, so seeing him this worked up was completely new to Louis.

"He's sleeping now," Liam repeated, running his fingers through his hair. He felt exhausted, and by the concerned look on Louis's face, he knew he looked even worse than he felt. He had stayed up for most of the night just watching over Harry; he just couldn't bring himself to fall asleep while Harry himself tossed and turned restlessly.

"What if he wakes up while you're gone?" Louis worried, his eyes flicking to his front door as he suppressed the urge to barge into Harry's apartment right then. "He usually doesn't sleep very soundly, you know."

"He barely slept at all last night. He just kept crying and crying." Liam swallowed hard, clearly emotional and overwhelmed. The warm morning light entering the kitchen through the window just accentuated the dark circles under Liam's eyes, highlighting his bold facial features in the worst way. "I think he'll sleep for a while longer. I hope he will."

"Li," Louis spoke softly, his eyes shining with sincerity. "It's okay, mate. You've done everything you could."

Liam shook his head, then blinked a few times quickly, as if he needed to force himself back to reality. "You should've seen him in the shower, Lou. I mean . . . it was sick. It was awful."

With a shudder at the heartbreaking image Liam had painted in his mind, Louis insisted, "It's not your fault. You were there for him when he needed you. You can't seriously be beating yourself up about this."

"I just . . . I should've seen the signs." Liam slammed his fist down on the countertop suddenly, making Louis jump in his seat. "I should've seen the signs sooner. I'm such an idiot."

"No, you're not! Harry's not . . . well, he's not exactly open," Louis decided finally, choosing his words carefully before he spoke. "And it's not his fault, of course, but we both know damn well that he wasn't going to say a word to you -- or to anyone -- until things got so unbearable that he couldn't hold it in anymore."

Liam sighed, knowing that the older boy was right. Even though he and Niall had known Harry for years longer than Louis, the older boy seemed to understand Harry in ways that they never had. "I just don't understand why he thinks that no one cares about him."

Louis didn't reply; he couldn't force any words past the lump that immediately formed in his throat. His brow creased with a deep, thoughtful frown. His mind wandered, and he could only hope that Harry hadn't woken up yet. He hated the idea of Harry feeling even more alone that he already did.