A Change of Heart (Volume I)

Chapter 11.

Harry looked at him, waiting for him to finish.

"I...I lo-I lost my key card, I think," he said, and Harry's face failed at not showing his painfully obvious disappointment. "In the alley, I think I lost it." Harry sighed, digging into his pocket, and pulling out his hotel key card, slamming it onto the nightstand beside Louis.

"You can have mine," he said, coldly. "I don't plan on leaving the hotel until we have to catch the flight back to England."

Louis sighed, immediately regretting his stupid dip-out from what he was originally going to say. He didn't want Harry to lock himself away, but that's what he seemed to be driving him to do, so it was as much Louis's fault, too. 

Louis spent the next couple days just silently being taken care of by Harry, who didn't leave the hotel either. They watched F.R.I.E.N.D.'s reruns on the television in the hotel room, ate their meals together, but their conversations were dry and meaningless, and Louis promised to himself once he stopped feeling like shit (physically, that is), he wanted to end the honeymoon off right. 

The Saturday morning before their flight, Louis stepped out of the bathroom, finally able to not have Harry at his side every groan and wince. It was sweet of him, but part of Louis craved the pain because he felt he deserved it. Having Harry help unnecessarily just didn't seem right. He got dressed, not bothering Harry who was passed out on the bed, having stayed up all night with Louis who was afraid to go to sleep because of his migraine, fearing some blood clot in his sleep. Louis really admired how knowledgable Harry was about all this physiological stuff; he was just chalk full of knowledge, like an encyclopedia. Yet another thing to add to the list of things that made Harry perfect. And it only reminded Louis that he brought nothing to the table aside from the money meant to help out Anne and Harry's financial predicament.

Harry stirred in his sleep, and Louis watched his arm extend to the other side of the bed, like he was expecting Louis to be there. His eyebrows furrowed as he let out a soft exhale, and he almost looked...disappointed? Louis watched him for a little bit longer, before Harry's eyes fluttered open, and Louis blushed, feeling weird for having stared at him the whole time, but it wasn't like he even noticed. The worst part was when Harry sat up, looked at the empty spot, frowned-definitely frowned a bit-and then turned, startled by Louis standing at the foot of the bed, dressed to go out. He blushed, and Louis felt like he was going to die, this feeling was going to overwhelm his body and throw him into a numb coma.

"Morning," he greeted, and Harry tightened his mouth into a straight line. Well, what the hell is that? A frown, a smile?

"Good morning," Harry replied, his voice so husky and gravely in the morning, Louis leaned against the end of the bed, just trying to keep his legs from giving out at how sexy he sounded. He paused at the adjective. Sexy? Oh, my God.

"Get ready," Louis told him, and Harry sat up, straighter, rubbing his eyes as he was still waking up. 

"What for?"

"Because we didn't come to Paris to let some creep ruin our honeymoon," he answered. "And I think we've both pissed each other off enough to want to spend the last night of this fucking rollercoaster of a holiday in a nice way."

Harry chuckled. 

"Why are you laughing?" Louis asked, as Harry got out of bed.

"You have such a fucking way with words," Harry returned, sarcastically, at his use of profanity. Louis's face softened, as Harry headed to the bathroom to shower and get ready. He walked over, placing a hand on his shoulder, and Harry gasped, jerking away, traumatic flashbacks of the other night flooding back. 

"Whoa, hey, sorry!" he apologized, raising his hands up, assuring him he wasn't going to hurt him. Harry blinked, remembering where he was. "Harry.." Louis said, concerned, stepping forward, and Harry subconsciously backed into the wall. 

"Sorry.." he stammered, reaching for the bathroom door handle, and stepping inside. Louis blinked at what had just happened, knowing Harry was still shaken by what had happened earlier. He frowned, walking over to the door, leaning against it.

"Harry, are you okay?" he asked, softly.

Harry was washing his face, letting the water running muffle out Louis's voice and calm him down.

"Harry?" 

It had only happened a few nights ago. It was still a very vivid image. The horror of actually knowing you were about to lose your virginity in the most horrible way possible, watching someone come to your aid after you just planned on hurting them by using someone else for sex and just trying to process all the things wrong with this situation...oh God, and watching Louis get hit..it made him realize he never wanted to see him get hurt, or to hurt him himself. Not emotionally, not physically. When he hit the ground, Harry had felt his heart plummet into his stomach. They hadn't talked about it at all, it was like forbidden territory after Louis had told him he lost his key card, or whatever he was planning on saying.

He looked up into the mirror, and noticed he'd been crying. Louis wouldn't be able to tell the difference from him washing his face and crying, but the bloodshot eyes...ugh. He then noticed Louis was still by the door, asking if he was okay.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine!" he called out, the water still running. 

Louis sighed, knowing he was lying. "Harry, please open the door. I think I know what's bothering you."

"Nothing is, I promise!" 

"Harry..."

The door swung open, and Louis stepped back, surprised, but was quickly pulled forward, as Harry threw his arms around him, sobbing uncontrollably. He stumbled a bit, trying to balance his feet by Harry's unexpected action. He wasn't saying anything, just crying terribly into the fabric of Louis's shirt. Louis decided against telling Harry he was soaking his shirt because he seemed so distraught right now, and it came out of nowhere, and he didn't want to say anything if Harry was no state to answer, or speak coherently.

"Harry, what's wrong?" he asked, not wanting to loosen the hold they had on each other in the slightest.

"I was so scared!" he sobbed, clutching onto Louis tighter, like he was his life jacket. "I-I...Louis, I.." He was shaking so bad, it was like the incident had just occurred two minutes ago. Louis rubbed his back, shushing him.

"It's okay..it's okay, Harry.." he whispered, nuzzling against his hair. "I'm here, you're okay, you're safe now.."

Harry sniffled, his body calming down in Louis's consolation. He took deeper, slower breaths, trying to avoid a full-on anxiety attack. 

"...thank you..." he said, after a moment. "..for saving me.."

Louis shut his eyes, finally a single tear escaping his stern eyes. "Harry," he said, pulling away, and wiping away the curly haired lad's tears with his thumbs. "Harry, stop crying."

Harry sniffled again, choking as he suppressed himself. "I-I'm trying."

"Now, go get ready, okay? I want to make up for everything tonight. It's been a crazy week.."

Harry nodded in agreement. "Okay," he said, quietly, returning to the bathroom. Louis waited for the door to shut again, before losing it. He slid against the wall, sinking to the carpet, and running a hand through his hair. 

To say that was a curveball would be an understatement. Louis shook his head, more anxious for tonight more than ever. He heard the shower turn on, and suppressed the thought of imagining himself just joining Harry. Just joining him right now in the shower. He clutched his sandy brown hair tighter. One more night. He had to get through one more night, make this one good enough for Harry to cancel out the shit from earlier, and that was it.

But hearing Harry hum to himself in the shower, contemplating tonight...Louis knew it was not going to be anywhere near that easy, simple, or disguisable.