They were ROOMMATES

11

Ouch. Louis' words hit Harry like a ton of bricks. He recoils, unsure of his next move.

Louis immediately backpedals. "No no no... Haz, I didn't- fuck I didn't mean that, okay? You're not an idiot, I'm just-" his voice cuts off and he looks like he's fighting back tears.

"It's okay," Harry insists, pretending not to feel slapped in the face by the insult. "Just please don't cry." Because he can't actually stand to see Louis so distraught, it's the most heartbreaking sight and it's causing Harry borderline physical pain.

Naturally, this just causes Louis to start crying again, this time even more pathetically than before, because everything is so overwhelming. There's a stupid life-ruining video circulating around video at this very moment, and he has no idea where it came from or what to do about it, not that it matters because he's so paralyzed with fear, and now he's just insulted Harry, something he promised himself he would never do again, especially now that they had both both admitted feelings.

"Louis, please just-"

And that's the thing, isn't it? It's ten times worse, insulting Harry now. Before, at least Louis could convince himself he was being mean for a good reason. He was simply trying to keep Harry at an arms length so that feelings wouldn't get involved, but now what? Feelings are clearly mutually involved, they've discussed as much.

And here they are, back at square one, sitting on their stupid cheap couch with Harry doing nothing but trying to be kind, and Louis pushing him away like he always does. And like he's done many times before, he's crying over the after math of a stupid fucking hook up with someone who was a practical stranger, which Louis knows, because even though the video leaker's true identity remains a mystery at the moment, the reality is that Louis doesn't do relationships.

He goes out. He gets plastered. He takes home strangers, or acquaintances if he's feeling particularly drunk and ballsy or lonely. Then they hook-up and awkwardly go their separate ways in the morning and never speak again.

And maybe that's why Louis is really crying. Maybe it's not entirely because of the video, but because of how dreadfully fitting it all feels. Deep down he realizes not only does he deserve this, but he should have seen it coming from a mile away.

"Louis, please," Harry tries again, his voice soft this time. "Just look at me, Boo."

Boo.

Fuck.

And, well, that gets Louis' attention alright. For a moment the two boys lock eyes, not saying a word. Because what is there to say, really?

Harry still has a hundred and one questions regarding this video, which at this point he has concluded has to be some sort of sex tape, and the thought makes his blood boil.

Who the hell would do something like that? That's what Harry wants to know, and he's not a violent person by any means, but right now he feels like finding the culprit and ripping them a new one for making Louis cry like this.

"My life is over," the older boy whimpers, his blue eyes glassy with tears.

Harry shakes his head. "Is not."

"Everyone already thinks I'm a whore."

"Not everyone." He smiles sheepishly. "I don't think you're a whore."

Louis scoffs. "You barely even know me."

Ouch ouch ouch. It's a struggle for Harry to maintain his composure, but he does his absolute best to keep the hurt off his face, because he has something he really needs to say...

And maybe nows not the time to be saying it, but...

Here comes the word vomit.

"I don't think you give yourself a fair chance to be known. I think you push people away, but the right people, the once who push back, those are the ones who deserve to know the real you. The people who'd judge you based on how many people you've slept with, or some stupid video, they don't even deserve you, Lou."

Louis looks up at him. He's quite for a moment. "Thanks, Harry."

They sit like this for a while. Louis' head falls lazily against Harry's shoulder, not because he's asleep, but because he's too drained and his bones are too exhausted to hold himself up properly. Eventually Harry spares a glance at his phone and sighs.

"Lou, I really hate to leave you like this, but I've got to leave for my shift."

What.

Louis quickly sits, guilt pooling in his stomach, because, "You got the job? At the flower shop?" He never even gave Harry the chance to tell him. He was too wrapped up in his own misery.

"I found out today. My shift tonight is 9 to 3."

"Till 3 AM?" Louis questions. He rests his hand on the younger boy's knee. "But don't you have class at-"

"7 AM," Harry confirms. "They wanted me to come in while the shop was closed so I could do all the online training videos."

Louis frowns. "Fuck." That's not enough sleep. That's not even close to enough sleep. "You should have told me. I would have let you nap instead of dragging you into my pity party."

"But I love parties," Harry joked. His dimples were on full display, and the sight made the butterflies in Louis' stomach go completely haywire. "Besides. You're important, Lou."

It takes a bit after Harry leaves before Louis is actually able to will himself to move. He was gonna hang out with Niall and Liam for a beer and movie night, but it's safe to say that plan has been effectively ruined right along with Louis' dignity.

He eventually drags himself to the bathroom, shivering as his bare feet make contact with the cold floor. He spends too long in the shower wishing the warm spray of water would just drown him already.

More time passes.

He sits on the shower floor. He stares at the wall with a hollow feeling in his chest.

He gets out and he throws on a pair of ultra-cozy sweats, and a threadbare shirt he's had since high school. There's a bottle of vodka hidden under his bed and he drinks himself to sleep.