Your Name is Tattooed on my Heart || L.S

Chapter Eleven

It seemed like Louis had just managed to fall asleep and someone was already waking him up. He made a noise of protest and pulled the duvet over his head.

“Lou, wake up. Just for a second.”

If it was anyone’s voice but Harry’s, Louis would’ve ignored it. He kept his eyes closed, but grunted to let him know he was listening.

“Does Stan have a spare key by his backdoor like you do?”

“Is open,” Louis mumbled.

“His backdoor's unlocked?” Harry clarified, and Louis grunted affirmatively. “Okay… well, I’m leaving.”

Louis hesitated, debating going with Harry. He could sleep more at Stan’s, but he was already comfortable. “What time’s it?”

“Seven.”

“What the fuck?” Louis said, rolling over and burying his face in his pillow. “Why are you up?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Harry said shortly. “I’ll lock the door behind me and put the key in its hiding spot, okay?”

“Mm-hmm,” Louis intoned, not really bothered either way. He just wanted Harry to stop talking so he could go back to sleep. Maybe in a few hours, when he finally made his way to Stan’s, there’d be some of Harry’s cooking waiting for him, and everyone else would be gone home. The three of them could spend a lazy Sunday together, play video games, and have a kick-around in the garden; a proper bonding session with his two favourite lads. It was such a pleasant thought that he drifted back to sleep with a smile on his lips.

*

When he awoke again, he glanced at his alarm clock and sighed when he saw it was just past noon. He wouldn’t have minded a couple more hours in bed, but he didn’t want to waste his time in Doncaster. As he dragged himself out of bed, unwelcome memories of the night before flooded over him. His stomach sank as he remembered Harry crying. Fuck. He knew it was something they needed to resolve; to what end, he wasn’t sure, but he hoped they could agree to make the best of the day with Stan and sort things out privately once they were back home.

The trousers he’d slept in were horribly wrinkled, and he’d left his shirt and phone at Stan’s. He had some old clothes in his wardrobe, but he didn’t bother with them. He stopped by the bathroom to freshen up a bit, wrote a note for his mum and sisters, and walked to Stan’s.

He entered through the backdoor, calling out, “Hey!” as he kicked off his shoes, but no one answered. He checked the kitchen, living room, and Stan’s room – all empty. The master bedroom was empty, too. He found his phone in the pocket of his jacket in the en suite. The battery was dead, so he plugged it in to charge while he showered.

It was while getting clean clothes from his bag that he noticed Harry’s bag was missing.

“The fuck…” he mumbled, searching for it, going so far as to check inside the wardrobe and under the bed. He dressed quickly and retrieved his phone to call Harry. He frowned as it rang, hanging up when it went to voicemail and sending a text instead.

where r u?

He wandered through the house, searching for Harry’s bag to no avail, and plopped down on the living room sofa. He still hadn’t gotten a reply, so he sent another text.

hey wheres ur stuff? where’d u go?

He called Stan, who answered after the third ring. “Hey man, you guys up?”

“Yeah, I’m over at your house,” Louis said.

“Cool. I was dropping off some of the people who slept over… figured I’d chill at Geoff’s till yous two woke up. Have you eaten?”