A Change of Heart (Volume I)

Chapter 08.

Harry arrived back to his and Louis's honeymoon hotel suite several hours later, blowing off steam with the distance in Paris, and figuring he could just give Louis his time to get over that little bitch fest he had just displayed at the art museum. 

He slid the hotel key card down its slot, opening the door and finding Louis sprawled out on the bed. He sighed, feeling a little guilty for ignoring him earlier and causing him to feel like he had to just head back to the room since he felt so unwelcome. Harry shut the door behind him, approaching the bed, and smiling softly at his thoughtful expression. He must have been dreaming intently about something. And it was admittedly kind of cute how his feet kicked and nose twitched in his sleep. Harry shook his head, mentally kicking himself for noticing this. He should have seen Louis fast asleep in the bed as the perfect opportunity to strangle the life out of him or suffocate him with a pillow until he died, but instead he wanted nothing more than to cuddle up beside him. Why, was a question he pathetically had no answer for.

He ran a hand across his messy hair, and Louis inhaled, deeply. Harry froze, afraid he'd woken up, and his heart fluttered at the soft moan that left Louis's lips as a small smile crept upon them. Harry swallowed, nervously. 

"Mmm, I knew you'd be back..." Louis mumbled, eyes still closed, as he held Harry's hand. Harry felt his throat dry up. Oh my God.

But before he could say anything in response, Louis's hand slipped from Harry's as they both heard the bathroom door open. Louis sat up on his elbows, glancing to the door and then trailing his eyes with guilt up the arm of....Harry? 

Harry stood, wide-eyed at the waiter from earlier stepping out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel. He scoffed, the breath in his lungs shakily escaping his mouth. Louis sat up, abruptly. 

"Harry, I--"

"Don't..."

The waiter awkwardly stared at Louis and then at Harry. "I'm sorry, is..."

Harry ripped the ring off his finger and threw it violently at Louis's face, possibly leaving a bruise with the speed and force of the impact. Louis winced at the hit, before jumping out of bed, seeing Harry rush out of the room.

The waiter stood, looking confused and wracked with guilt by the whole ordeal, and Louis picked up his trousers and flung them back at him.

"Fucking get dressed," he barked at him, before chasing after Harry, who was already speeding down the hall to the elevator. "Harry, I--" 

"I said don't!" Harry screamed, turning around suddenly, and Louis almost ran into his chest. "You are so fucking two-faced and sick, you know that?!"

Louis froze, staring at him.

"You bounce from being all affectionate and loving to being rude and judgmental towards me when you're the one fucking someone else on our honeymoon!"

"It's not a real honeymoon!" Louis shouted back. 

"Then why the fuck did you care if I was spending time with Phoebe?! You're the one who walked away!"

"You made me!"

"I haven't done anything wrong except let myself believe you're not the piece of shit I suspected from the start!" 

"Then go fuck Phoebe for all I care!" Louis screamed back, hiding his own pain at Harry's words, though the worst part was knowing how true it all was. "I didn't care that you've been gone for hours doing God knows what with her! How many fucking paintings could she possibly be droning on about for so long?"

"I left the Louvre ten minutes after you did. Phoebe just gave me her card in case I wanted to come to the evening exhibit, which I didn't even go to! I've been wandering the city like some sad fucking idiot, giving you time and space to cool off before I came back!" he cried, hot, angry tears streaming down his face. "But you've proved how you cope with things, you heartless fucking jerk."

Louis paused, shocked at Harry's answer, which made him feel like genuine shit. Yes, it was wrong to do, but the extent at which Harry was getting offended almost made it seem like he took it as a personal hit. Louis began to question if that was his motive, after all. Did he just have meaningless sex with the waiter, knowing it would upset Harry if he strategically walked in and saw? Or was he really just a Grade A piece of shit who would have fucked him regardless? Either way, he seemed like a heartless fucking jerk, in Harry's eloquent choice of words. But they fit Louis's character, certainly.

"Harry, I..." he began to explain, his voice softer but not having a clue of what to say. Harry shook his head, not wanting to hear it as he turned again for the elevator. "Where are you even going?" he asked, facing Harry's back as he entered the elevator.

Harry turned around to face him and pulled the card out of his shirt pocket, glaring at Louis.

"To fuck Phoebe," he answered, as the doors closed before him. Louis stood, frozen in place. It shouldn't have bothered him. Whether Harry was getting revenge or having sex with someone as technically single as he was. It shouldn't have bothered him.

But when the doors shut, his heart fell, as he unballed his fist, looking at Harry's abandoned ring.