The Moment I Knew (Larry Stylinson)

Chapter 5

Louis's POV

I spent ten hours lying in Harry's bed, shielding myself from the world with his duvet. Eventually, I decided that my bladder might burst and I got up. 

I stepped gingerly over the bloodstain, wrinkling my nose. I knew that I should probably clean it up, or at least attempt to. Something told me that it wouldn't come out. I decided to consult Liam about it if I ever forgave him for letting Harry just ignore me. 

I knew that it wasn't any of the lads' fault. It was Harry's, but I could make myself mad at Harry, so instead, I blamed the other lads. 

Once I had relieved myself, I explored his kitchen. When I found nothing but expired milk, lettuce, and old take away, I had to force myself to walk away. I couldn't bare the evidence of how severe Harry's eating disorder- disorders?- had gotten. 

I returned to Harry's room and sat down on his bed. I remembered how I had found Harry throwing up during rehearsal. Then, I had believed him when he said that he was just sick. Now, I realized how stupid I had been. 

What if I could have prevented his attempt at suicide by realizing he had an eating disorder? I could have out him in rehab before he could have gotten worse. I felt sick at the thought. 

I should have known that he hadn't been ill; I should have heard the lie, or seen it in his eyes. 

Harry was a terrible liar. When had I started believing all of his lies? When had I gotten so blind? 

I had so many questions and I was being denied the answers. I couldn't sleep with the noise of all the questions in my head. The only person who could fully answer them was Harry and he wasn't doing so.  

His letter had made me think of more questions rather than answering them. 

I wondered if I was more angry at Harry than anything else. I certainly wasn't happy. I was scared and worried for him, yeah, but I was so, so angry. 

I sighed, exhausted from the battles within my mind. I doubted that I had gotten more than three hours of sleep collectively in the past five days. 

I glance at my phone, turned off and silent next to Harry's bed. I'd been completely ignoring Eleanor ever since Harry had been rushed to the hospital. I realized that I was ignoring her just like Harry was ignoring me, but I wasn't doing it intentionally, nor was I doing it for six months. 

I reluctantly reached for my phone, turning it on. I winced as I saw the numerous missed calls and messages. I listened to the calls from my family, concerned about how I was holding up, management saying that it was okay to relax for a few days, the lads calling for miscellaneous things, and the insane amount of calls from Eleanor. 

I called my mum first, assuming her that I was doing fine, no, I didn't need to go home, Christ, yes, I was really okay, tell the girls I loved them, goodbye.  

I kept the conversation short, wanting to call Eleanor as soon as possible. I felt guilty for essentially forgetting about my fiancée.  

"Hey, love," I said quietly as she picked up. I suddenly felt uncomfortable talking to her in Harry's room, so I got up and moved to his balcony.  

"Louis, where the hell have you been? I've been worried sick about you! And about Harry! I had to call Liam to know what was going on because you wouldn't answer!" Eleanor said. 

She sounded more relieved than angry, which I decided was a good sign. 

"I know, and I'm so sorry, babe. I've just been so...overwhelmed," I said. Nothing I could think of was a valid excuse for ignoring her.