next to you ❀ l.s.

forty one - the hurricane

"Harry. Come on, love, you have to get up."

Liam's caring voice pierced through the protective bubble that Harry had created for himself. It had only been a week, but without Louis, a week felt like a year.

He groaned, burying his face in his pillow as he shook his head. Life was cruel, but his bed was soft and warm and if he tried hard enough, he could imagine that Louis's chest laid beneath him.

Just as he was drifting back to sleep, clinging to a hazy dream of Louis's arms wrapped securely around him, he was yanked unceremoniously out of bed. He hit the floor with a thud, the cold air immediately spreading across his heated skin, making him shiver.

"I told him not to do it," Liam said bluntly.

Niall only shrugged, brushing his hands off proudly. "It was about time he got out of bed. He just needed a little push."

"A pull, more like," Liam pointed out, quite unhelpfully.

/

"I'm going out," Louis's voice came through the phone. Liam frowned at the device, rushing to take the call off of speaker mode and press the phone to his ear, tossing a nervous glance down the hallway where Harry was still hiding out in his bedroom.

"It's a Tuesday night."

"Yeah, thank you, Liam. I do own a calendar. And I'm getting drunk."

Liam sighed, running his free hand through his hair, frustrated. "Louis, just come talk to him.

Without a moment's hesitation, Louis replied shortly, "No."

"You're both miserable. It's been a whole week already," he pleaded. "You're both acting so childish. You aren't going to work anything out if you never speak to each other again."

"He thinks I cheated," Louis argued. "He probably never wants to speak to me again, anyway."

"So you need to tell him that you didn't."

Louis paused, silence flooding the line for a few long seconds. "I'm going out. Are you coming with me or not?"

/

Harry poked at his food with the bent prongs of his fork, squishing it under the solid metal. Niall watched him carefully between bites, chewing slowly. Even the smallest movements seemed out of place in the silent apartment, as if any sign of life might come across as offensive somehow.

"You have to eat, Haz," he said finally, his words slow and gentle. His sympathetic tone sounded out of character, but the entire planet had shifted out of orbit, so who could really blame him?

"Not hungry."

"You haven't been hungry in days," the Irish boy protested. "You're starving yourself to death."

Harry didn't answer, scooping another spoonful of peas into the pile he was creating at the edge of the plate. Dying sounded better than life without Louis. Suffering sounded a lot better than worrying whether or not Louis would be safe.

Maybe a broken heart hurts worse than broken bones.

/

"Harry? Hi, baby, I -- shit, I didn't mean to call you that. I'm sorry, I know I can't call you that anymore, but you're . . . you're still my baby, you know? Aren't you?"

A pause, and the pulse of a beat. Club music and drunken laughter.

"I don't know if you'll even listen to this. Fuck, I really hope you don't listen to this. But I . . . I just love you so much, Harry. I love you more than I've ever loved anyone in the world, and I don't know what I did but I'm so, so sorry. I love you more than anything, Harry, and every second away from you feels like my heart is just another beat closer to stopping completely."