next to you ❀ l.s.

twenty three - spaces between us

Harry wanted to disappear.

He wanted the suffocating air of his apartment to swallow him whole.

Louis hadn't called. He hadn't even texted to explain why the call had dropped, and Harry had slowly put the pieces together, as painful as it was to realize: Louis had hung up on him.

For someone who had spent his entire life feeling burdensome and unwanted, the realization was like a punch in the stomach. Harry had stared down at his phone in complete shock, frozen in one place in the middle of the sidewalk. Clouds had started forming above him in the telltale sign of an inbound storm, turning the warm glow of the afternoon into a dull gray, but he couldn't bring himself to even notice.

Or he just couldn't bring himself to care.

Then, to his surprise, the screen had lit up with Liam's name. Liam always seemed to know when he was in trouble. Harry had answered the call without a second thought, and Liam's voice came through the line: "Hey! How's it going at home?"

And as hard as he tried, Harry couldn't control the tears that spilled over his cheeks. Liam had spoken to him gently in that deep, soothing tone of his, and not even an hour later, they were both in the kitchen of Harry's apartment cooking their own little Thanksgiving dinner.

Well, Harry had cooked. Liam had passed him ingredients and chopped a few things, but Harry appreciated the company more than anything else.

In a weird way, it was sort of a perfect Thanksgiving. Liam didn't ask too many questions (about Louis or about his family) and Harry distracted himself by making sure Liam stayed well-fed and happy. There was a sort of silent solidarity in the fact that neither of them wanted to spend such a family-oriented holiday with their actual relatives, even if they didn't speak about it aloud.

By Friday morning, less than twenty-four hours later, Harry's resolve had already weakened. As every piece of him screamed not to bother Louis (because that went so well for him the last time he called), he picked up his phone, tentatively dialling Louis's number and holding the device to his ear. The screen was cold against his cheek, and every buzz of the ringtone shoved his heart further down into his stomach, sinking helplessly into the churning depths.

The line clicked when the call went through. "Hello?"

Relief washed over him. "Hi, Lou. Happy late Thanksgiving."

"Happy Thanksgiving," Louis echoed. He sounded distracted. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah. It's alright."

There was a pause, like Louis wanted to ask if he was alright. He didn't.

"Uh, okay," Harry said, filling the awkward silence that stretched between them. "How is it being home? Seeing your family and everything?"

"It's great," Louis responded vaguely. Harry overheard some kind of rustling in the background, like someone was trying to get Louis off the phone, and then: "Hey, listen, I've got to go."

"Of course. I understand. Have fun with your family."

A pause, and silence flooded the line. Finally, Louis replied, "I will. See you in a few days." And the line went dead.

Right along with any ounce of hope Harry had left.

He slowly set the phone back on the counter, glancing up to find himself face to face with a shocked-looking Liam. The other boy looked shocked. "Was that Lou?"

Harry bit his lip, wrapping his arms around himself.

"Harry, what the hell is going on?" Liam pressed. "I thought . . . I thought you two . . ."