You like to preach with a vodka in your mug

Chapter fifteen

It's on the phone that Harry requests Louis take him for his check-up at the clinic. It's also kind of a red flag: sure, Louis heard Harry talk to his mum the night of the wedding but it scares him a little that Harry's jumping straight to Louis as his first port of call again. He can imagine it now: Harry curled up on his bed talking all hush-hush so his family don't even get a fraction of the idea that Harry wants to keep them separate from his alcohol habits.

"Are your parents busy?"

Harry pauses and stammers, "no. Just want you to come."

Almost reluctantly, Louis agrees, and at four PM, Louis' attempting to reverse bay park inbetween a fucking camper van and Mr BMW who thinks he owns the car park. He exhales as soon as the engine is off and turns to Harry.

"I don't wanna go in," Harry pouts before flicking the lock for the door like it'll stop Louis from being able to unlock it and get out. "Please don't make me!"

"H, it's gonna be ten minutes and it'll be over."

"But what if they make me stay?"

"I doubt it."

"But," Harry hums quietly, "what if?"

"Why would they?" Louis asks softly. "You had one drink because you maybe didn't have the best attitude towards being sober and one because you felt pressured. You regretted them both as soon as you did it, yeah? To me it would be a bit harsh if they made you stay all the time again."

Louis waits for an answer. He's left things wide open for Harry to be honest.

"But what if?"

"H, do you think you need to stay again?" Louis asks gently. Harry will say no; Louis reckons there's nothing Harry would hate more than having to go back. Unsurprisingly, Harry shakes his head. "But you think you should check in more?"

Harry nearly snaps his neck with how quickly he whips his head around.

"Why would I think that?" His voice is about six octaves higher.

"I heard you on the phone to your mum," Louis admits. Harry's face drops and he turns away from Louis so that he's looking out the front of the car. "Please don't be nervous to tell me stuff, baby. I'm not gonna be mad or annoyed; I want to try and be helpful."

"Sorry."

"Hey, baby, no," Louis coos as Harry leans forward onto the dashboard and tugs harshly on his hair. "Let go, H, you're gonna hurt yourself."

Harry let's go reluctantly.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "Really, I want to stop but it's so belittling knowing everyone can just have a toast drink with no problem but I've got to treat it like the world's going to collapse around me. I just want to be able to join in with everyone because there's not going to be any point in me going on nights out or if we want to go on a nice date I'll have to have water or if there's a celebration I can't have a drink with anyone."

Louis stays silent. He doesn't know what he can say to make it better because while he agrees with Harry and he wants more than anything to tell him that he'll be fine, he doesn't want to see one glass of prosecco become a stash of hard liquor again.

Harry gets out of the car and begins stomping away. Louis' brain doesn't catch up with his eyes until Harry is halfway towards the clinic. He fumbles with the keys as he tries to lock the car and jogs awkwardly to try to catch up with Harry. He curses as he steps in a puddle and gets water up his leg.

"Baby, wait," Louis huffs, lamenting how bad his cardiovascular system is at the minute. He's got to get back into footie. "Hazza, honey."

"What?" Harry snaps, stopping dead just by the steps. "Do you want to let me know anything else you've listened in on or are you going to wait until next time I've got to check in to tell me?"