You like to preach with a vodka in your mug

Epilouge

Louis opens the front door and is faced with a massive hole in the wall.

"Shit!" He hisses, peering into it as though it'll give him a reason as to why it's there. "Is anyone home?"

He tosses his keys on the side, noticing the spare key they keep under a plant pot on the side as well, and kicks his shoes off. He doesn't get an answer so he shrugs and hopes there's no murderer waiting around the corner and grazes from the fridge for a little while. He trudges upstairs after feeling comfortably full of junk food and nearly shits himself when Harry is curled up in the corner.

"Fucking shit, H," he gasps, dropping his jacket on the floor and holding a hand to his heart. "Did you text me you were coming?"

Harry stays silent, simply toying with his mismatched socks. Louis' smile fades as he asks him what's wrong and he unfurls, tossing an empty bottle on the floor and watching miserably as it rolls towards the wall.

"I'm a failure," he croaks, throat sounding raw and voice all scratchy.

It's a bottle of tequila, which Louis would almost be impressed he'd actually managed to tolerate the taste of if it wasn't Harry.

Louis freezes and opens and closes his mouth like a fish. He gulps heavily when Harry briefly glances up at him with glassy eyes before he chokes out a broken sob.

"Oh, baby," Louis coos, sinking to the floor and curling up beside Harry. Harry starts rambling, hardly pausing for breath between his words. "Hey, shh. You're okay; you're safe here."

"I can't do anything right!" Harry wails. "I'm such a fucking idiot!"

"No, H, that's not fair," Louis hums gently. Harry grabs the bottle from the floor and throws it at the wall on the opposite side of the room. Louis winces and ducks his head as it smashes all over his bed. Harry screams.

"I hate you!" He shrieks, staring pointedly at the wall with glassy eyes and a downturned mouth. "I hate you."

He willingly leans into Louis when he tugs him closer. His head buries itself gently in Louis' chest and he sobs. Louis rubs his back delicately as Harry's shoulders shake and he chokes out cries.

"You're gonna be okay, H," Louis whispers. "I promise you'll be okay. You're safe as long as you're here."

"I hate myself," Harry weeps. "I hate..."

Harry doesn't finish his sentence, simply cries until he passes out in Louis' arms. Louis considers putting him in bed until he remembers the shattered glass that had cascaded all over his duvet.

"Fuck," Louis mumbles. His mum was planning on stopping off at the supermarket with his sisters right? Maybe she'll still be there. The phone rings a couple of times.

"Achoo!"

"Hi, Dory fish," Louis teases, "is mummy there?"

"Yeah, Achoo. Mummy, Achoo wants you!"

"Hello?" She asks, sounding a little flustered. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm okay. Are you at the shop?"

"Yeah, we're about to leave."

"Oh," Louis feels a bit guilty. "Would it be super out of your way to pick me up some new bedding? Erm, I'd need a quilt and some pillows."

"No, that's fine," she sighs. She's doing that thing again: where she agrees but won't let Louis live it down for the next two months.

"Thanks, mum," Louis says delicately. "Can you also make sure no one comes in my room until I say it's alright?"