Chapter Nine

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Yeah so I'm on spring break and I finally have a computer! Updates will be coming sooner! Thanks for reading! Figured out how this book is going to end, and lets just say shit is coming. I'm updating "Online Lies" and vheck out my new Larry story called "7 Days". Thanks guys!

"We accept the love we think we deserve." -Charlie, The Perks Of Being A Wallflower.

---

"C'mon," Louis mumbled, tugging on Matt's arm and pulling him through the crowd of sweaty people.

"Um, I didn't know you had a boyfriend...so..." Matt trailed off awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck.

"Yeah, well, I don't. He's an ex. Let's go."

The feather-haired lad was fuming, which explains his vice-like grip on the flushed man's arm. How dare Harry show up and ruin his night. How dare he corrupt his date and make it awkward. And oh fuck him for making that knife buried in the pit of Louis' stomach give a good wrench.

When the pair arrived at the bathrooms, Louis tugged Matt inside. The club's bathrooms were tucked away in the velvet black of the dark in a far corner where they could scarcely be sought. The hall was dimly lit by the flashes of the pink, blue, and green neon strobe lights that illuminated the dance floor.

The inside of the bathrooms weren't any more appealing. The grey concrete walls were covered in various types of graffiti and body fluids.The stalls' paint was cracked and chipped, drawn on with sharpies and painted with profanity and streaked phone numbers to call for a good time.  It wasn't a shock, though. Clubs weren't made for the Queen of England.

"So you weren't joking about a hook-up in the bathroom with me?" Matt laughed. Louis huffed and whipped around to face him.

"I want a distraction and you want a good time. Why not help each other out?" Louis suggested, snaking his hands behind the taller man's neck and smirking.

"Good plan. But first, don't you thin-" The black-haired man's sentence was cut short when a pair of soft, thin lips were slammed against his own.

A passionate make-out session was initiated between the two men as the minutes went on. When Matt reached for Louis' fly, he heard a sharp intake of breath.

"You okay?" He murmured, glancing up to see Louis with tear-filled eyes.

"No," Louis whimpered. "Stop. I-I can't do this."

"What?" Matt asked, pulling away from the hickey he was starting to make on Louis' neck.

"I-I don't want to have sex with you. I'm sorry. I just can't."

The feather-haired man gently pushed the taller lad away, sliding down the filthy and stained wall to sit on the matching floor. He buried his face in his hands, shaking as he tried to hold back the tears.

"Alright," Matt spoke, breaking the tense atmosphere. "What's going on?"

Louis didn't know where to start. "Well, see I had this boyfriend. When we met, he was great, you know? He was loving and amazing and always there for me. But then he started getting physical, beating on me. The typical thing, you know. They hit you and then say they're sorry, but they aren't. I was a real idiot. I believed all the lies he said to me. I stayed. I stayed for three years, and I keep asking myself, why?"

"Well, you see. We accept the love we think we deserve."

The blue-eyed man turned to face his almost hook-up. A sense of awe engulfed his senses and suddenly, it all became quite clear. "I never thought I was good enough."

Matt nodded, staring straight ahead. "But you miss him."

"I don't know why."

"It's okay to miss him, you know."

"It shouldn't be. He was such a jerk."

The younger lad sighed, turning his head back to Louis. "But you keep the good memories. You love him because of who he was, not who he is. Everyone has a story and a reason, and maybe you just don't know his."

And that made a ton of sense.

--

After their bathroom chat, Louis and Matt headed back out to the club to hit up the bar for a couple drinks. By the time the Doncaster lad left, it was well past three in the morning and he was pissed out of his skull. He stumbled down the streets of London, refusing to hail a cab, much to Matt's annoyance. Louis wanted to walk. The cool, crisp air helped him to think.

He wasn't walking to anywhere particular, so he thought, it was just a mere coincidence that he happened to show up at Niall's house. The very place Harry was staying.

The blue-eyed man staggered to the door, tripping over a few of the steps and dammit why the hell does everyone insist on having stairs infront of their house.

Thankfully, Louis made it without too many bruises. A shaking fist was raised as it rapped the door.

A few minutes passed before foot-steps were heard and a sleepy Harry was pulling back the large grey door. He had to do a double take at the man standing in front of him.

"Louis?" He rasped. "What are you doing here? It's well past three..."

The older man pulled the curly-haired lad out onto the porch, shutting the door behind him.

"Harry," He started, staring through hazed eyes at the man he loved. "I've tried everything. I've left you, I've gotten drunk. I've asked myself, should I see someone else? I don't quite know the answer. But I know I can't get over you. I just can't. I-I need you."

"O-Okay." Harry sighs shakily. "Okay. We can."

"What does that mean? I mean what are we going to do about everyone? What-"

"Sh," Harry soothes. "We'll figure it all out in the morning. Come inside, you can sleep here."

And so he does.

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