The Moment I Knew (Larry Stylinson)

Chapter 18

A/N

Guys, I'm updating this like two-three days early because I'm going to camp for two weeks on Sunday, so I won't be able to update.

I'm getting harrystylescat77 to update for me not this Monday, but next Monday so that you can still have a chapter.

It'll be written by me, but it'll just be saved as a draft until she updates for me.

Then I'm coming back for like two days and then leaving for another two weeks, so the same arrangement will take place then.

This chapter is kind of really short, but I have plaaaaaans for the next chapter that will make you wet yourselves.

Okay.

Love you!!!

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Louis's POV

I spent three days in my own place, constantly drunk.

I woke up with God-awful hangovers, but I'd reach for the closest bottle and I would return to a blissfully fuzzy state.

Eleanor never called.

I found that I really didn't care.

Eventually, I knew that I had to stop.

I was curled up in my own bed and staring wistfully at an empty bottle on the floor, urging it to refill itself.

It felt funny to be in my bed. I was so used to Harry's. My mattress seemed a little too soft compared to his. My covers weren't like his.

I was homesick for somebody else's bed, honestly.

I staggered around, searching for a glass of water to down a couple of pills with.

My head throbbed and my tongue felt dry and heavy in my mouth. My body felt tired and achy.

Three days of being perpetually drunk hadn't really been the healthiest choice.

I sighed and rested my forehead on the table, nearly knocking the glass of water over.

I really wanted a drink.

I shuffled out of the kitchen and flopped down on the sofa. When I looked up, my eyes fell on a picture of Harry and I.

It was taken the day we moved into our flat together. He was grinning like a maniac, but he wasn't looking at the camera.

He was looking at me. The adoration in his eyes was so clear that I felt sick for not seeing it.

Liam had said that he guessed that Harry had fallen in love with me a little over a year before he tried to kill himself.

He wouldn't have been in love with me in the picture, then. Or maybe he had and he just hadn't realized it.

I smiled when I realized that he was wearing my jumper and I was wearing his track pants. I still had them somewhere, but I'd worn them so much that they were kind of worn out.

That had originally been his, but I had worn them once and decided that they would be mine.

They reminded me of Harry- soft and warm and comfortable.

I wanted that Harry back. I didn't like the Harry that he had become. He wasn't soft, his bones were sharp and painful. He wasn't warm, his skin was cold when I touched it because his body didn't have the fat or energy to keep itself warm. He wasn't comfortable. I hadn't rested my head on his shoulder or sat on his lap in months. I wasn't comfortable around him. I felt like a stranger.