next to you ❀ l.s.

thirty eight - getting even

"Hazza. Harry, listen to me, baby." Louis had his head in his hands, his phone pressed tightly to his ear to block out the pulsing music of the bar. "I can be there in fifteen minutes, alright?"

"No, no, don't come back," Harry begged him. Louis could hear the faintest rustle of sheets in the background, and he could just imagine Harry receding further into the warm comfort of his blankets. "I'm okay, I just . . . just wanted to hear your voice. I feel better now. I'm sorry."

"I'm not going to let him touch you, alright? Your door is locked, and I have your spare key in my pocket." He patted his pants just to be sure it was still there. "He's not going to get anywhere near you. I promise."

"Okay. I trust you," Harry responded quietly. After a pause, he asked tentatively (as though he had already mentally prepared himself for Louis to say no), "Come see me when you're home?"

"Of course, baby. It'll probably be another hour or so, and then I'll crawl straight into bed with you," he promised. "I love you."

Harry exhaled a sigh of relief. "I love you, too. Tell Niall I say hi, and don't get too drunk."

Louis agreed easily, told Harry he loved him a few more times, and then ended the call. His kind exterior melted away as soon as his connection to Harry had dropped.

"I'm going to fucking kill him," he seethed with a death grip his beer bottle. The condensation was starkly cold against his sweaty palms.

"You're going to kill Harry? What's going on?" Niall wondered, completely taken aback by the abrupt change in tone.

"No, no. Not Harry. That fucking dickhead, Steven." Louis took a deep breath, trying and failing to settle his frazzled nerves. "Harry has been completely hysterical all the time. Terrified that Steven is going to show up wherever he goes," he explained, shaking his head in disbelief. The pounding music from the cheap speakers was making his head hurt, and he wasn't even that drunk yet. "That bastard scared him so badly that he's barely been outside this week, besides going to work or darting over to my apartment."

Niall paused, taking another sip of his drink. "What are you going to do about it?"

Rage radiated from Louis's body in suffocating waves. "I'm going to find him, and I'm going to kill him," Louis stated bluntly. Noticing the shocked look on Niall's face, he just rolled his eyes. "Christ, Ni, I'm not actually going to kill him. But I am going to knock some sense into him."

"Louis, seriously, that is not a good idea --"

Louis took another swig. "Well, it's an idea at least. Doesn't matter if it's good or bad."

Niall cringed -- once Louis got into this fuck-everything, self-destructive mindset, it was always difficult to change his mind. "It's definitely bad."

"It'll be bad for him when I disconnect his balls from his body and shove them down his throat."

"Okay, you're going to hate me, but this guy is at least a head taller than you, if not two --"

"Just means I can reach his balls better."

"Lou, stop it. You're drunk," Niall said firmly. "Sleep on the idea, and then you can call me in the morning if you're still looking for backup."

Louis's face softened, and he turned to his friend. "You'd really be my backup?"

Niall snorted, but he squeezed Louis's shoulder supportively. "Of course I would. I'll gladly stand by and wait for you to get pummeled, and then I'll drive you home afterwards so that Harry can finish the job himself when you tell him what you tried to do."