next to you ❀ l.s.

forty two - there and back again

Harry's words didn't even reach the level of a whisper when he finally spoke: "I made it up."

Louis blinked. "You what?"

"I made it up," Harry said, a bit louder this time. "I was terrified, so I made it up."

The older boy froze, his lips parting in surprise. He grasped the doorframe tightly, his fingertips pressing down hard against the grooved wood. He felt like someone had just slapped him in the face. Out of every wild explanation and justification he had imagined over the past week, the thought hadn't even crossed his mind.

And Louis should have been angry. He should have been furious; instead, he had to suppress the breathless, heartbroken "oh, my poor baby" that nearly escaped from his throat.

"I'm sorry," Harry continued, filling the silence between them as he watched the gears turning in Louis's mind. His sincerity shone through clearly on his face and in his tone. "I'm so, so sorry."

His head was still spinning out of control, wrought with unanswered questions and incomplete answers and memories of the absolute misery of the past week. Louis found it difficult to focus on anything, really, when the boy he loved stood just in front of him, finally close enough to touch.

"I'm sorry," Harry repeated. "I was such an idiot, but I didn't know what else to do. I-I'm not trying to make excuses, but I still don't know what to do, because i-if Steven comes after you again, I just can't --"

And the final piece of the puzzle clicked into place.

"Harry," Louis breathed. He brought his hands up to cover his face, rubbing harshly at the thin layer of stubble that covered his cheeks. "Harry."

He should have been angry; instead, he just felt deeply, deeply sad -- plagued by the all-too-real image of Harry, curled up and trembling with fear after a nightmare. Harry had taken on his own terror alone with the goal of protecting Louis.

And selfishly, he was relieved that Harry didn't really hate him like he thought. Even with everything else going on, that was ultimately his biggest fear.

"I'm sorry, I-I'm --"

"Harry," the older boy soothed gently. "It's okay."

"-- really, really sorry. I don't even know --" Harry cut himself short, realizing for the first time that Louis wasn't shouting at him. "H-How are you not angry?"

"I am angry. I-I'm furious," Louis said seriously. "I'm furious that you gave someone so much power over you that you once again did something you didn't want to do. I'm upset that Steven wanted to control you, and you let him."

Harry's voice was small, nothing more than a whine in the back of his throat. "But . . . but you're not angry with me? For what I did?"

Louis shook his head. "I'm not. Not really. Because I know exactly what you were thinking. I know you were being the same selfless idiot that you always are."

"I'm sorry," Harry repeated -- for what felt like the hundredth time already. "I didn't mean to hurt you -- well, I guess I did mean to, but I didn't want to hurt you. I know I did."

Louis sighed, and he lifted his hand to tuck a stray curl away from Harry's face, letting his fingers linger on the younger boy's cheek. "It did hurt, Harry. It hurt a lot," he confessed. "I thought that you trusted me, and then suddenly, I was drowning in hot water."

Harry wrapped his fingers delicately around Louis's wrist, exhaling deeply when their skin brushed together for the first time in days. "I wanted you to hate me. I wanted you to hate me enough to stay away from me," he explained, guilt thick in his tone. "It was so stupid. I hate that I hurt you."