Gods & Monsters

Chapter 18 (Part 2)

Tomorrow's the day.

Brenton will announce its newest member. And Louis wants Harry to get the spot, wants him to get it so, so bad.

But part of him, the quiet, jumpy, frigid part of him that exists in the pit of his stomach and the back of his skull, whispers Liam's name at the mere thought. He's not sure why. He doesn't understand it.

But Liam's name always seems to be a breath away, lining his conscience and pressing against his bones.

Because what will he do if Harry gets it? What will Liam fucking Payne do?

Louis hasn't seen him, hasn't talked to him, has barely heard his name since that night and... He has no idea where the boy's head's at, save for the rare bits of information Zayn throws at him on the occasion. He doesn't know if Liam's plotting revenge, if he's over the entire affair, or if he's just...given up? If he's gotten someone else to do his dirty work? Louis doesn't know.

What he does know is that Liam hasn't tried anything on Harry. He hasn't stepped out of line at school, hasn't tried to fuck with Louis, even. He hasn't done much of anything that would be expected of Liam Payne.

But, then again, Harry's also mentioned that he hasn't been around as of late. Which is...odd.

"You know, I haven't seen Liam in awhile," he'd said, curled against Louis' side as they'd lain on the couch in the dark, skin against skin, breath against breath.

Louis tried not to stiffen, tried not to let his blood flash with heat. "Oh?" he'd managed casually.

He felt Harry nod. "I think he's been sick or something... Hasn't been to class."

"Oh," Louis coughed. "Weird."

"I hope he's okay," Harry murmured. It made Louis' chest ping because Harry's too compassionate for his own good. "I know he's been trying for Brenton, too. Hope the stress hasn't gotten to him, or anything."

Louis could only remain silent, lips pressed tightly together as Harry pushed up onto his elbow, craning his neck to look at him.

"Is he really eager to get in? Is he, like, stressing about it? Do you know?"

For a moment, Louis considered ignoring the question—perhaps changing the subject or dismissing it away. But instead, he found himself nodding curtly, just once, his eyes trapped on Harry's wide, worried ones.

"Oh," Harry blinked, frowning just a bit. "I feel bad. Technically, I'm his competition." He dragged his worried gaze up. "I hope he doesn't think of it that way? I hope he doesn't think he has to, like, worry about me, or anything? I don't want him to think I'm a threat—I'm not. He's a lot smarter than me. Way more popular. He's got loads more money, too. He's the clear choice... He knows that, right?"

Something heavy sat inside Louis, something that gripped onto his tongue as he stared sightlessly at Harry, watched the concern in his boy's face and heard the slow drip of his words. It was all too close to home and it made Louis want to laugh as much as it made him want to be sick. He felt tangled up in webs. Everything seemed to be threaded to lies, deceit, secrecy. It shouldn't, either, since he fixed everything.

But it still felt that way, still feels that way, and it sat sickeningly inside of Louis that day.

"You deserve it," Louis eventually managed in response, his voice broken on a crackled whisper as he brushed a hand down Harry's cheek. He didn't expound, didn't utter another word, and though it made a brief crinkle form between Harry's brows, the boy never pushed the matter, instead settling his head atop Louis' chest.