TORN

Chapter 12 (Part 1): Unexpected Encounter

Louis lay sprawled out on his bed, the blanket wrapped tightly around him like it could shield him from the mess he'd made. His eyes burned, and his throat felt tight as he tried to process what had happened the night before.

"What the hell did I do?" he muttered into the silence of his room, his voice cracking. Before he knew it, tears were spilling down his cheeks. "Pull it together, Louis," he cursed under his breath, but the tears didn't stop.

Louis was no stranger to drama, but this... this felt different. It was like he had made a huge mistake, one that couldn't be undone. "I should never have let it get this far," he said to himself, voice trembling as he tossed and turned on the bed. "Why do I always mess things up?"

With a dramatic groan, he threw the blanket off and got up, pacing the room aimlessly. His thoughts kept circling back to Harry. Harry, who had opened up about his feelings. Harry, who wanted more. More than Louis was ever willing to admit he wanted too.

"He's such an idiot," Louis whispered, his eyes on the floor. "But I'm even worse." He wiped the tears from his face roughly and let out a long, shaky breath. "Fuck."

For a moment, Louis stood there with his hands on his hips, staring at the ground. Then, suddenly, as if making a decision, he straightened up. "You know what? I don't need this. I need... retail therapy."

With newfound energy, Louis flung open his closet and started pulling out his best clothes. Tight jeans that hugged his body in all the right places, and a low-cut shirt that showed just enough skin to turn heads. It was his favorite look—the kind that made him feel like he was back in control. "Let them stare," he muttered, grinning at his reflection in the mirror.

A couple of hours later, Louis found himself strutting down the busy streets of the city. The sun was shining, and the hustle and bustle of people around him was exactly what he needed to distract himself. He felt the admiring glances and, as always, he thrived on them.

As he walked past a storefront, something caught his eye. There it was—the perfect handbag. Sleek, luxurious, and so very Louis. Without a second thought, he marched into the store, making a beeline for it. Just as his hand reached out, it collided with another.

Surprised, Louis looked up—and found himself staring right into Y/N's eyes.

"Oh great, it's you," Louis said sarcastically, his voice dripping with faux politeness.

Y/N didn't pull back; in fact, her grip on the bag tightened. "I'm not letting go," she said firmly, staring Louis down.

Louis raised an eyebrow, his trademark cheeky grin spreading across his face. "Oh, really? You think you can outdo me?"

"You've already taken my man," Y/N shot back, without missing a beat, still clutching the bag tightly. "Do you really need my handbag too?"

For a second, there was silence between them before Louis burst into laughter. "Touché, darling," he said, still laughing. "You're not half bad."

He let go of the bag with a mock bow. "It's yours."

Y/N grinned, slinging the bag over her shoulder. "Thanks. I knew you had some sense in you."

Louis shook his head, the smile still playing on his lips. "You're not so bad yourself. How about you buy me a coffee to celebrate your victory?"

"Only if you promise not to be sarcastic the whole time," Y/N replied with a smirk.

"I can't make any promises," Louis shot back, winking as he led the way to a nearby café.

A short while later, they were sitting in a cozy café, and Louis actually looked more relaxed. He took a sip of his coffee, eyeing Y/N with an amused grin.

"So," Y/N began, her voice gentle, "what's really going on between you and Harry?"

Louis let out a heavy sigh, stirring his coffee aimlessly. "It's complicated," he said, eyes cast down at the table. "He wants... more. And I'm just not that guy."

"What do you want?" Y/N asked, her tone curious but not judgmental.

Louis shrugged, avoiding eye contact. "I have no idea. I've always done what feels right in the moment. Relationships, feelings... that's never been my thing."

Y/N nodded slowly, as if she understood what he was saying. "Maybe you're just scared of getting hurt."

Louis let out a dry laugh. "That's pretty obvious, isn't it? But honestly, I just don't think I'm cut out for that kind of thing."

"Louis," Y/N said softly, "you can't know that unless you try. Maybe Harry's exactly what you need."

"Maybe," Louis murmured, "but I've probably already screwed it up."

Y/N placed her hand on his. "Call him. Talk to him. It's not too late."

Louis sighed, feeling conflicted. He looked down at his phone, running his thumb over the screen. "I don't know what I'd even say," he admitted, his voice quiet.

"Well," Y/N said thoughtfully, "for starters, tell him the truth. Tell him what's going on in your head. You might not have everything figured out yet, but at least let him know you care."

Louis frowned, looking skeptical. "What if he doesn't care anymore? What if it's too late?"

"Trust me, it's not," Y/N reassured him, her voice soft but confident. "If you open up, he'll listen. Harry's not the type to just walk away from something real."

Louis hesitated, the weight of his phone heavy in his pocket. "And what if I mess it up? Again?"

"Then at least you tried," Y/N said, leaning back in her chair. "But if you don't call, you'll never know."

Louis stared at the table for a long moment, his mind racing. He could feel the fear bubbling up inside him—the fear of rejection, of losing control. But Y/N's words stayed with him. Maybe it was worth the risk. Maybe Harry was worth the risk.

Finally, he sighed and pulled out his phone. "He's not going to pick up anyways," he muttered, but Y/N's steady gaze urged him on.

With a nervous hand, he dialed Harry's number and held the phone to his ear. It rang. And rang. And rang.

"I told you he wouldn't pick up," Louis said quietly, beginning to lower the phone from his ear.

But just as he was about to hang up, he heard a familiar voice.

"Hi."