The Blind Boy [✔]

45.

"Thank you," Rory tells Louis, but there's only silence as a response. 

When Louis does speak, his voice wavers, something tremulous and breakable. He sounds nothing like the self-assured boy that pulled him from the waters, calm in the face of possible death. "Nothing to thank me for." 

"I'm sorry," Rory says, swallowing. It hurts to swallow. It feels like something is lodged in his throat. "For everything. For high school, for you seeing that –" 

"Is that why you did it?" Louis bursts. The blonde sounds fragile, sounds bitter. "Because of me?" 

Rory hesitates. In part. He has never stopped regretting how he treated the boy, not for a single day since he realized. He never thought he had been malicious, but one look into the past four years – one proper look – tells him that he had been. If anything, he thought that maybe his death would make up for things. It's comical, like some joke from a higher power, that Louis had been the one to save him.

Out of all the people in the world, Louis had been there. Out of every day Louis could've chosen to hang up flyers, it had been that day. And out of every day Rory could've chosen, it had been that Saturday. 

Of course he had to wait until his family traveled away for an early summer vacation. It had gotten easier to be left behind, to be left behind, so when he claimed he wanted to stay home, none of them minded. There was encouragement for him to go, of course, but even his mother did not seem overly concerned by him staying behind. 

"A lot of different things," Rory says, closing his eyes briefly. A surrender of sorts.  

"You shouldn't have," Louis snaps. For once, the usually kind boy sounds frustrated, almost angry sounding. 

"I know. I am sorry." 

Another heavy silence, one that drags on longer than the last one. 

"She loves you, why do that?" 

Rory smacks his lips together – they're unbearably dry – surprised. He works his jaw, taking a few moments to respond. "You could love her better. Anyone could." 

He feels Louis settle on the edge of his bed. He sounds softer when he speaks again, almost tentative. "Sounds like low self-esteem to me." 

"You know me," Rory protests, coughing a little. "I'm mean, I'm cruel, I'm a showboat, I'm a coaster –" 

"I thought you were a cocky teenage boy with a drinking problem," Louis retorts wryly. "And now I think you're a teenage boy who has endured something heinous, so go easy on yourself." 

Rory's confused. He feels his heart pound against the inner wall of his chest. Apparently his heart rate has been running high since he did what he did, likely from the strain done to his body. "Why don't you hate me? You should." 

"I don't hate you. I never did." He laughs breathily, like he's loathe to admit it. "You weren't the only one that didn't like me. No one did." 

"Because you're special," Rory says, blinking rapidly. He hopes he doesn't cry again, but there's no possible way he can get more pathetic than this, so he's somewhat past the point of caring. "You're kind." 

Louis sounds flustered. "I don't know about that." 

"You are. Who would jump into the ocean to save the guy that tormented them for three years?"

"Two and a half," Louis replies, almost a touch teasingly. He sighs then, a heavy sigh, sounding undeniably drained. "Let it go, Rory. I have." 

The question he's kept buried in his chest all these months since he realized Louis's feelings for Ash come surging forth. "Why don't you go be with Ash?" Why didn't you end up together once I ended things?