Unbelievers

Chapter 8

Louis' phone is buzzing incessantly next him on his bed. It's been doing that for the last two days, namely since Friday. Louis is currently spread out like a starfish on his bed, drooling into the pillowcase his nose is flattened against. It hurts a bit, but not as much as his heart.

Wow, he's such a sad fucker. He mentally congratulates himself on simultaneously being a fucking idiot and a heartfelt poet.

The buzzing dies out, but Louis knows it will start again in an hour or so. He is not going to answer, however. He's promised himself that he won't.

Harry's been calling endlessly since after the match. He called until it was twelve, then he called once every hour yesterday, and today he's gotten seven phone calls in and it's only two o'clock. Louis glumly sits up, staring out the window. His eyes are half-lidded, hair rumpled. It's pissing down rain outside, it's almost dark and it honestly looks like the world is ending out there.

Maybe it is. Louis wouldn't mind, because who has he got? Niall's ended their friendship, Lottie is giving him the silent treatment, his mum is barely home, Mark is not his Dad anymore, and Harry's... yeah, Harry's complicated.

Louis face-plants back onto the bed. His phone starts buzzing again and he squeezes his eyes shut, moaning into the suffocating pillow.

Don't do it, Louis.

It keeps buzzing.

Don't.

Buzz.

Love yourself.

"Mrkfng," Louis groans, and reaches out to grab his phone.

He wasn't supposed to do this. When he got home from the match last Friday, he just felt so utterly pathetic and lost, all of it crashing down on him when not even Harry wanted to put up with him anymore – Harry who has kind of been his rock these last months. He started thinking. The conclusion that he came to involved feelings.

Lottie might be right; there might be a teeny, tiny chance that she could be.

There has to be a reason he didn't feel completely fucked up until Harry wasn't behind him anymore, hasn't it? There has to be a reason as to why he's felt this miserable since their fight.

But, on the off chance that he does have those kinds of feelings (strange, senseless feelings) for Harry, then those are not be encouraged. Bad, bad feelings. Now that they've been gently acknowledged, they can go back to wherever they came from (hell).

"Mrgff."

"Lou...?" Harry's voice is soft, and perhaps a bit surprised that Louis answered his phone call. His voice is warmer than Louis expected. He thought Harry was calling to fight.

He huffs in answer, the only thing he can manage. It's getting somewhat hard to breathe against the pillow now, but Louis refuses to pick his head up. He turns slightly instead, just a fraction to the side to let in some air. "Talk," he instructs quietly. If Harry's going to yell, then he should get it over with quickly.

Harry inhales on the other side of the line. It's strange how just the sound of it makes Louis' belly knot up. "I want to apologize, Lou," he starts. "Like, for several stuff."

That was literally not what Louis expected. It feels like he stops breathing, everything inside him stopping for a just a second, completely taken aback.

Harry pauses, perhaps to see if Louis is going to say anything. When he realizes that Louis isn't going to, he once again takes a deep breath. "It wasn't fair of me to do what I did before the match. First of all, it wasn't my place to tell you when or how you tell your best friend that you're gay."