Night Changes // l.s.

▰ 11 ▰

[short !!!!]

It was late when a pair of buzzes echoed through Louis' empty flat ("Mr Tomlinson, we really shouldn't leave you alone" "Please do" "You're unstable" "Get out"). Louis had all the fucking right to be upset right now. He had on one of Harry's stupid sweater and pants as he pads his way to the front door. He presses the button, not caring to check on who it is, letting them up.

Louis remembers when he did that before, like, three months after HarryandLouis started, and he remembers Harry attacking him (not really) to get the message across on checking on who's at your door.

And then he remembers Harry's not here.

Louis choked back a sob and opened the door and oh. The Styles.

"Oh Lou," Gemma's arms made their way around Louis and he wanted to hug her back tightly, but she was suffocating him just as much as the air in the room and he just couldn't.

"Please," he says, moving from her grasp, letting them enter his flat.

When Louis notices the bags at the door he makes an effort to drag them inside with Robin. Louis thinks that, somehow, he should've seen this coming, this predicament with Harry, but he tries to just pretend that none of this is actually happening. That in the morning Harry will be fine and on the next flight home.

▰

Harry gets out of surgery the next morning. For half an hour, and then his lung ruptures, and he's back in there, indefinite surgery time, not sure what the procedure is, we don't know the extent of the damage.

Everything is uncertain. Louis' mind is very, very blank.

Because he's not there. He can cry and navel gaze and yell and care all he wants, but he's not there. He's in fucking England, in his flat, while Harry's getting half a lung and God knows what else stitched back together, hour after hour after hour. And Louis wonders how long they stitch for before they give up.

Eleven hours seems like a long time. He wonders if they'll do another eleven.

"Jesus," he whispers, bites his thumb as he stares out the window.

▰

"Louis please eat."

Louis admits, his ribs are very much so visible right now. And he's already made his vow to stay like that until Harry's back. Even if that was before...

Louis also admits that's he's annoyed at the group of friends cluttering his flat. Anne and Robin spend their time talking to the officers which is okay, and Gemma spends her time searching all around London, scratch that, the entire fucking United Kingdom and Ireland to find doctors that are willing enough to fly out to Harry.

"Niall, please leave," Louis says, staring at the black fabric that covered his hands and torso and thighs fully. Harry's sweaters are his favourites.

"You don't have to act like this -" Zayn starts.

"Act like what? Like the best thing that ever happened to me is dying somewhere in Af-fucking-ghanistain? And that you and Liam are right fucking here? Yes, of course. Excuse me for being an ass."

Louis was tired. He definitely didn't sleep last night and his catching up to him. That's okay.

Makayla pulls the food away from him. "I think it'd be in our best minds to leave Lou alone right now."

"Well, we can't let him starve," Perrie says.

"We can't fucking force feed him either," Makayla says. "We don't know what he's going through."