Isn't it what you wanted?

If this is all we're living for, why are we doing it anymore?

He didn't plan on it. Louis definitely didn't plan on letting his husband find things out so soon. He planned on telling him, letting him know that he had loved him for such a long time, but now... Now he's met someone else. Louis doesn't think he's in love again, no. He's just not in love with Harry anymore. But he would never want him to find out this way. He's not a bad person, he'd never to that to him. But it happened, so he just has to let go and work things out.

But what if he doesn't want things to work out?

"I don't know if this still has a future." The feathery haired boy says, looking deep inside Harry's hazel eyes.

"You could've told me instead of having me find out that you didn't love me anymore like... Like this." He sighs heavily, pointing to where their- Harry's bed is.

"I swear I was going to tell you, Harry." He bites his bottom lip. "You know I wouldn't want to hurt you like this."

"But you did, Louis." He mutters under his shaking breath, and fuck.

Louis goes back to the first day he saw him. It was late after midnight, and he just couldn't bring himself to fall asleep. He remembers walking around the campus with a cigarette in between his lips, smoking the fourth in a row. His heart clenches in the second that the first time he looked at Harry comes to his mind. He seemed sad. Remembers him standing there in front of the lake, admiring the water and the ducks and everything, but at the same time, just wondering about life. He walks to him, still smoking, and goes to stand right beside him. Harry doesn't look at him at first, only stays in his position like Louis isn't even there.

"Are you okay, mate?" Louis questions, his voice a bit husky in reason of his sore throat. Too many cigarettes for just a twenty year old boy to smoke.

Harry looks at him, and there are tears, big, fat tears streaming down his porcelain face. Louis remembers how his breath hitched for a second because fuck. He swears to God he's never seen something as precious as the person standing in front of him.

"I'm okay." The boy's husky, thick, fucking hot voice says, faking a smile at Louis.

And that's what kills him... because Louis knows what a fake smile is like, he knows what is like to have yourself sad and broken and not being able to find forces to tell someone how you actually feel. He knows what it's like to be done with life.

"Are you really, love?" He sweetens his voice this time, smiling softly at the curly haired boy - he still remembers how soft and good those curls were. He'd spend the day caressing them, one by one. "You don't have to tell me what's wrong, yeah? But my friends say I have a comfortable shoulder and an annoyingly sweet voice that can calm people down."

The boy actually giggles at him. Harry actually giggles at him and he could swear to any fucking person in the world, that he's never seen something as beautiful, sweet, lovely, adorable as that honest smile playing on the broken boy's cherry red lips.

Louis doesn't forget a single moment after that. All the smiles, the tears, the way he held Harry that night and promised him he would never, ever let anyone hurt him this way because he deserves nothing but happiness, love and peace. Even though he had just met him.

But now Louis is the one breaking his heart, and if you asked him eleven years ago, if he'd ever hurt Harry, if you should worry about Harry being all insecure and dependent on him, he would instinctively answer you, automatically answer you: 'I am the last person you have to worry about'.

But things change, don't they?

"I'm sorry." Louis manages to whisper because that's just what he can come up with. He's lost in the conversation because of all those flashbacks, and he honestly wants to cry.

"You could've said you didn't love me anymore, Louis." He breathes out, vocal cords failing. "You didn't have to go and cheat on me on the bed we first made love. Do you think that is okay?"

"No. I'm sorry." He lets out once again. "I'm sorry, Harry, I am so, so sorry. I've always been a shitty person, I know."

"No, Louis." Harry interrupts him, shaking his head shortly. "The person that helped me that night, the person I laughed with, the person that made me get better, the person who helped me through the depression and- the person I fell in love... That person was amazing, almost flawless, even." He gulps, feeling the lump inside his throat, forbidding him from speaking firmly. "The person you are now... This person is horrible, and if I knew things would turn out to be like this, Louis, if I knew you'd turn into such a shitty person with such a- such a cold heart, I would've never married you."

And Louis thinks that shouldn't have hurt him because like he previously said, he's met someone else, he's not in love anymore. He knows he isn't. But why does it hurt him to hear those rough words leaving Harry's mouth?

"I'm sorry." Louis says once again, voice barely reaching a whisper. "I'm so, so sorry, Harry."

Harry sighs heavily, wiping the tears away with the back of his hand. "I want to say I hate you, Louis, but- but I can't seem to hate you at all... I'm just- I'm disappointed because you're not the person I fell in love with, ten years ago."

"I'm- I'm the same person." The blue eyed boy says, biting his swollen lip - nervous fucking habit. He knows he isn't the same person, but he's never been the one to surrender a fight.

"I want you to leave." Are his husband's next words. "I will call Liam tomorrow. He's a good friend and- he's a good lawyer. I'll talk to him about the divorce and the papers."

Louis' eyes widen at that, he can't breathe. He can't breathe. He can't breathe. He can't breathe.

"You can leave in the morning, sleep on the couch." He says. He doesn't feel anything. "I don't want you to be here when I wake up, Louis."

"Okay." Louis whispers, head leaning forwards, vision blurry with tears.

"Please- please go, now." Harry whispers, not able to look at anything, eyes shut as he tries his best for his sobs to stop.

Louis doesn't say a word after that, but he mentally reminds himself. Isn't it what you wanted, Louis?

Congratulations, you got it.