we'll play hide and seek to turn this around (give me love like never before)

Chapter 9

Louis' curled up in a fluffy duvet. Liam and Zayn have finally decided to go out instead of spending all their time time fucking in the flat, and so he has the entire flat to himself. He has chips on one side of him and a litre of soda on the other, and honestly, it's all about him tonight. It's the night he is going to pamper himself, and watch movies that make him bawl, and no one can make fun of him.

Louis night, he thinks, it definitely has a ring to it.

(It's eleven at night, and that's when he gets the text from Harry.)

From Curly:) ple se come ovr ?

Louis can't explain why, but worry fills his body. He hurriedly slips on his vans and leaves the flat with everything left on. He jogs his way to Harry's flat, despite the fact that it probably isn't even a big deal. Louis just - he loves Harry, yaknow?

He doesn't knock when he gets there, instead just turns the knob and finds that it's already unlocked. That worries him, because it's nearly midnight; Harry should not have his door unlocked. He slips in the door, though, and finds that the only lights on in the flat are the fairy lights, illuminating the room in a dainty, ivory colour.

"Harry?" he calls softly, slipping his shoes off by the door, locking the door as he does so.

His reply is a soft giggle, and despite the confusion, he does find himself less worried. He smiles lightly, knocking softly on Harry's door, before peeking inside.

"I found y-" he cuts off, seeing Harry on the floor, surrounded by alcohol bottles, and the smell hits his face like a freight train. Louis hasn't drank in a long time, really. He use to go out with the lads a few nights a week, but he has been finding himself trading those nights in to stay over at Harry's place, trying his newest desserts and watching bad rom-coms.

"Harry, are you alright?" he shuts the door a bit behind him, though he isn't sure why, and carefully pads toward Harry. Harry whose curls are matted to his forehead and neck, and his skin a light pink. His eyes are glossy, and lips red.

"Louis, you're here!" Harry giggles, and he holds his arms open for a hug that Louis cautiously gives away.

"Yeah, I'm here. Harry, how long have you been drinking?" Louis asks, only to find himself laughing when Harry's face scrunches up all cute, and he holds his hands out.

"This many times!" He's holding up 6 fingers, and Louis isn't sure if that's hours, or minutes, or drinks, but he goes with it.

"Alright, love," he says gently, "I think you've had enough now, yeah?" He tries to take the bottle Harry is working on now, but Harry pouts and moves it away from him.

"Just one more, Louis. Just one more," he babbles, and Louis is so guiltily endeared by it. In spite of, he still tries to take it away. "Harry, no. I think you've had plenty."

Harry shakes his head again, making a little humming noise and poking his tongue out. "I think you've had plenty."

Louis laughs, biting his lip. "C'mon Harry, just hand it over, alright? I'll tuck you in and in the morning I'll take you out for a yummy and greasy breakfast."

"I don't want breakfast, I want strawberry milk!"

Harry screams it out, and then erupts in a fit of giggles. Louis has to bite his cheek to keep from giving in and laughing too. He can't help it, Harry is just so adorable, and honestly, Louis never thought he would be calling a drunk guy adorable, but here he is.

"You can't have milk after drinking, love, it's not good. And if you drink even more you're going to be even more hung-over."

Harry pouts and looks down into the neck of the bottle, sighing deeply. "Lemme finish this one, Lou, lemme finish and then I'll stop."

Louis breathes in deeply, and finally nods, though unsurely. He sits down beside Harry on the ground and gently presses his thumb against Harry's cheek. "Alright, last one."

"Last one," he murmurs quietly, slowly sipping the contents from it.

He really does drink it slowly, too, is the thing. And he also babbles and slurs little nothings to Louis that he can't quite understand anyway. He manages to catch a few words and sentences, but the rest is gibberish.

The lights are casting little shadows on Harry's face, though, and Louis does recognise that Harry still looks so pretty, even if he is glossy-eyed and lip-bitten. He giggles a lot, is another thing Louis notices, and he just simply sits with him, smiling at whatever the nonsense he is going on about, and picking at his sweats.

His phone starts buzzing and Louis fishes it out of his sweats pocket to answer the message, ignoring whatever it is Harry is slurring to him.

From Zaynie where r u?

To Zaynie at harrys don't worry, you and liam have fun ;)

From Zaynie yea in ur bed ;)

And Louis' about to reply with something as equally witty and sarcastic when he hears it. And when he hears it, he really hears it. Loud and clear, and perfectly enunciated, as if Harry has been practising to say it out loud for so long. It sucks the oxygen from the room and replaces it with this suffocating poison that shoots shivers down Louis' spine. He hurriedly turns to Harry, his eyes wide and heart pounding, pounding, fucking pounding, and he doesn't - he fucking hopes he heard it wrong.

"What Harry? What did you just say?" Louis asks urgently, chewing at his cheek and trying to take deep breaths.

Harry watches Louis with glossy eyes, blinking. "'s'why my ex-boyfriend use to hit me."

Louis watches Harry carefully. His body trembling. "Who use to hit you?"

"My ex-boyfriend, Mark. He use to touch me too, and I would feel gross afterwards."

And Louis'- he's- Louis. He doesn't know what to feel. His blood is boiling and his fists are clenching, but then he sees Harry's face, Harry's beautiful and soft face, and he gets soft and sad. So sad. He just - all he wants to do is wrap Harry up in his arms and protect him. He just - how could anyone hurt him?

"S'why I like all this stuff! It makes me feel nice and pretty and clean," Harry giggles into his hand, "and the strawberry milk makes me feel good on the inside too!"

Louis doesn't know when he starts crying, but he can feel the tears just leaking from his eyes, pooling somewhere in his chest in the forms of disbelief and heartbreak.

Before he knows it, Harry is wiping at his cheeks with messy fingers, drunkenly murmuring, "Don't cry Louis. You can have strawberry milk too, and then we'll both feel good."

And Louis feels fucking shattered, as if he is reliving his most painful moments in life. He shakes his head, trying his hardest to force a smile.

"I'm fine, Harry, I'm fine. We're fine," he hushes through his tears. Louis wraps his arms around Harry, tangling a hand in his curls and holding him close.

"What'd'ya mean, Lou?" Harry murmurs, his eyelids shifting down as he yawns, "what'd'ya mean?"

Harry is slowly falling asleep, subconsciously pressing himself further into Louis' chest, and Louis carefully lays them down on the floor. He murmurs through everything soft little nothings until Harry is heavy in his arms, tinted breath hitting Louis' face softly. He doesn't mind, though.

Louis silently cries them both to sleep that night, because that's all he can do.