Reactive Envy

Chapter Twenty-Three: The hiding....

Deja vu. A feeling of having already experienced the present situation.

Waking up with crusty eyes, a cottonmouth, and a hard cock between his legs. Once again, there was the same cock as last time pressed snuggly against his ass.

There are a few differences this time. He hasn't got a pounding head, he isn't in his room, he knows who is behind him, and the person behind him isn't rutting. The warm arm around his waist isn't holding him hostage. It's only resting there.

He can't tell if Louis is awake or asleep, but he's hoping for the latter so he can sneak away. He should change his business cards to have the slogan, "Ready to run" on them. He seems to run away from his problems instead of facing them head-on as he should.

Moving slightly to test whether Louis is awake or not, he doesn't feel any movement from the man. He slides slowly away from Louis and hears quiet snuffles behind him, indicating Louis is, in fact, asleep. He climbs out of the man's bed and quickly replaces his body with a pillow. Louis keenly accepts the pillow and nuzzles into it. Harry stops his escape for a moment to appreciate the beautiful man sleeping before him. Caramel hair, long lashes, button nose, thin pink lips, slight stubble across his little round chin. He truly is a masterpiece, but Harry can't stay in this room and admire him any longer in case Louis wakes up.

Rushing out of the room and down the stairs, Harry stumbles into his room, landing face-first on his own bed. What is he going to do?

He can't avoid Louis. They live in the same house. Louis kissed him, tried to have sex with him, made him breakfast, and took a nap with him. His heart speeds up slightly, thinking of how sweet Louis is to him. He always has been. Right from the first encounter, he's been flirty, caring, and gentle with him. He hasn't asked for more than Harry is willing to give. He hasn't gotten upset with Harry nearly as much as he should of.

Harry has been a jerk to Louis, Ashton, his mum, and his sister.

He has the best support system, but he keeps pushing everyone away. Ever since childhood and being picked on in the playground, he's been a runner. He doesn't like confrontation and doesn't know how to express himself vocally, so he expresses himself in words, gestures, and clothing.

He doesn't know how to have romantic feelings for someone. He has never had the opportunity to love someone who would potentially love him in return. He wants to tell Louis how he feels but has avoided it for months. He watched Louis and Ashton from the beginning and now sees Ashton and Gemma interact.

Why does love fall into Ashton's lap, but Harry has to fight for it? Why is his life so unfair to him?

He thought he was happy having Louis as a friend, but he can't keep pretending like he is okay. The longer he lays in his bed thinking about this, the more he thinks it's best to cut ties with Louis. Louis would be happier away from Harry.

He could continue whatever is going on with Ashton and Gemma and not have to worry about judgment from Harry. He needs to end this before it goes too far. He thinks it may have gone too far already, but until Louis wakes up, he can at least make a start on the things that need to change.

He goes over to his closet, looking for his duffle bag. Once he locates the brown suede bag, he starts picking through his clothes, easily identifying what doesn't belong to him. Band tees, a yellow sweatshirt, sparkly socks, a pair of worn black vans, and black Adidas sweatpants. Stuffing it all into the duffle, he goes into the lounge area he searches for anything that wasn't here before, a few nursing books, a stress ball, or five. Photos of Louis' family that Harry never got to meet, even if they seemed lovely, it's better this way.

He sees Louis' reading glasses perched on the edge of Louis' end of the couch. No, not Louis' anymore. It's Harry's couch. Slowly making his way around the house, he can see how much Louis has engrained himself into Harry's house, from books and plants to the mug with the letter L embossed on the side. His favourite lunchbox is on the bench, and his trainers are by the front door. There is a picture that zayn painted with a poem written by Liam over the top of the painting that Louis fell in love with when he saw it on Zayn's Instagram. The painting won't fit in the duffle, so he leans it next to it.

Harry can see hundreds of little trinkets and memories in this space.

Movie nights, cuddles, Louis teaching Harry medical terms, and Harry teaching Louis about the world of journalism. Telling him which celebrity couples are real and which aren't based on articles he has written or edited.

How will he move on from this when every corner of his house is full of Louis. Every crack plastered over with Louis' laugh and his crinkly-eyed smile. How does one move on from what the movies describe as true love? He has to ignore the number of people who say, 'When you know you know'

This isn't a movie; this isn't a book. This is reality and he's breaking. He can feel the hole in his heart getting deeper and wider the more things he shoves in the duffle.

He needs to leave. He needs to run before Louis finds him. He needs to tell Louis to leave. To make him promise to forget Harry and not come looking. He needs time and balance. Without Louis, he's sure he will crumble.

The feeling of longing has been replaced by a steady ache in his chest. No one prepared you for heartbreak when it didn't even have time to blossom. Harry can feel the dampness on his cheeks. He can feel the lump in his throat almost choking him.

He needs to run. He needs to escape. He needs to say goodbye.

Crumpling in the middle of the floor, he breaks. Loud heart-breaking sobs leave his body, and he realises too late that he left Louis' door open. He can hear Louis stomping down the stairs.

It's too late.

Louis is going to see him crying, he's going to see his things packed up, and Harry will have to have answers to his questions. He's not ready. He can't. He's already losing so much; he can't have the last thing he sees be Louis' sad eyes when he realises Harry's asking him to leave.

Jumping to his feet, he sprints to his room, slamming the door and locking it.

"Harry!"

Louis is outside, it would be so easy to open the door, sink into his arms and forget the pain, but he can't.

"Harry, please open the door. I heard you crying. What's wrong?"

He can't answer that because then Louis will know how desperate he is to be loved.

"Harry! Please, please don't block me out."

Sobbing, Harry moves across the room, slumping against the wall. He tries to block out loud banging on the door. He needs to leave. How can he leave when Louis is right outside.

"Harry! I'm calling Gemma."

Shit, he didn't think of that. If Gemma comes and he ignores her, she'll ring Anne. He can't disappoint his mum again. It's all he is. It's all he's ever been. A disappointment.

"Last chance Harry. Open the door, or I'll ring your sister, which also means Ashton."

Let him come. Let him take Louis like Harry always knew would happen. Of course, Louis would go back to him.

Stupid, he's been so stupid living in a fairy-tale world.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I don't know what I did, but I'm sorry. I'll be here when you are ready to talk."

That is what Harry doesn't want.

"Go away, Louis. I don't want you here. Everything's packed. Get out of my house."

He can hear Louis stumble backward from the door like he's been shot. Good, it's his turn to feel the pain. Sobbing harder, he knows this is his fault. He should have stayed away, should have known better.

Harry Whispers over and over like a mantra,

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."