Gods & Monsters

Chapter 19 (Part 7)

Eventually, Louis talks to Liam.

It's a tentative, dark moment in Liam's room, so unlike the gold and light and breeziness of Louis' summer thus far.

In here, it's dim and quiet, windows covered, and everything smells like stale smoke and unwashed clothes. Liam himself doesn't look much better—he's disheveled and lethargic, the confident electricity long since zapped from his limbs and posture. No longer is his hair pristine, no longer are his clothes immaculate and soaked in Gucci. He's just a rumpled mess of a boy.

For the first time, he looks like real human boy.

"Liam, I'm friends with Harry again," Louis says, perched on the edge of his desk chair, hands folded. He doesn't really know what to say. Oddly, he's filled with a sort of morose compassion, an unexpected sadness. Maybe it shouldn't be unexpected, though—after all, no matter how convoluted it was, Louis and Liam were once friends. "We've been hanging out all summer and it's... Well, it's going great, to be honest. I'm still in love with him and if he'd have me, I'd go back instantly, so..." Louis shrugs, mildly awkward. He looks down at his hands; they're so tan now. "I thought you should know. I want to be with him."

"I do know," Liam snaps quietly, but it's more half-hearted than anything. He must notice the pity in Louis' frown though because then he sighs, shoulders slumping as he sits up in his bed, rubbing hands through his overgrown hair. "Look, Louis..." He pauses, now rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "Everything's fucked up right now, I know."

"It's always been fucked up," Louis corrects quietly, and it makes Liam wince momentarily.

But he doesn't argue. Instead, he says, "Yeah, probably. I guess it was." He sounds so sad, forlorn as he stares down at his fallen hands that now lie in his lap, limp. Bare, empty—no watch. "But I... I do care about you, you know," he adds, so quietly that Louis has to strain to hear, leaning forward as much as he can.

What did he just say?

"I really did..." But Liam doesn't finish, face cut into stone as he clenches his jaw, flexes his fingers. Determinedly, he doesn't meet Louis' eye.

It's not hard to guess what he was going to say, though. It's written clear across his face, written everywhere. Fuck.

Liam has feelings for him. As in, genuine, real feelings. Fuck.

Like... Yeah, it's not entirely surprising, especially given everything that happened. It's not. What is surprising, however, is Liam confessing it, here in the quiet of his room. After Louis' just told him he chooses Harry. Fuck.

"Liam..." he begins, suddenly saddened, heavy with it.

He never meant for this. God, Liam's been a prick at the best of times, but Louis never wanted it to be...this. It wasn't supposed to be...

Liam shakes his head though, still avoiding his eye. "Don't. I'm working through it, alright. I don't want your fucking pity."

"It's not pity, mate," Louis replies, harsh. "Not exactly. It's me feeling like a fucking bastard. I didn't know, alright? I didn't know you—"

But Liam silences him with a look and Louis shuts his mouth.

Liam sighs before he speaks, gaze falling back down. "Look, I won't, like, jeopardize your thing with Harry, alright? That's all I'm trying to say. I've had some time to myself and I've got some of my shit together. Thought it all out." He glances up, eyes dark and quick. "This whole thing feels fucked up. And it's not just my fault, it's not, Louis," he says sharply. "But... I feel...bad."

A brief and stunned silence falls.

What did he just say? Did Liam goddamn Payne, Liam Payne, just say that he feels badly? He feels bad?