17 Black

28•

Shit. This took me so long to write because I suck at doing filler chapters and I'm so fucking busy but NO EXCUSES THIS TOOK WAY TO LONG AND IM SO SORRY IF IT EVER TAKES THIS LONG FOR ME TO UPDATE AGAIN THEN U HAVE MY PERMISSJON TO HATE ME BC I WOHKD TOO BUT I LOVE U GUYS ANYWAYS. HOPE U ENJOY, SOME ACTION COMIN UP SOON IN TBE NEXT FEW CHAPPIES ❤️ love you guys
- Bell
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Louis blinks, and all of the sudden he finds himself leaning against the wall, head feeling light and gut feeling unstable, nauseous. He can hear his own breathing, and he's sure his mother can hear it, too, from the other side of the line. The only thing he can think in that moment, the only thing that's cycling through his mind without relent is why. Why is his mother--the giver and destroyer of his life, the person who was supposed to be there for him forever and had instead turned her back on him in the worst of ways, breaking his heart, ruining his ability to trust and to love and to become attached, permanently changing his life--choosing to reach out to him now? Why would she even entertain the idea that Louis might ever consider talking to her again after the way she rejected him?

Distantly, Louis hears his mother calling his name through the phone, but as she does this, all Louis can hear is her yelling that same name out the door at him the last time he saw her; "Louis Tomlinson, if you ever return to this house again, so help me, you will wish you hadn't".

"Are you there? Louis?"

Louis lets his head against the wall to steady the dizziness that comes over him then, to even his breathing.

"Look, Louis..." She continues. "I know that these past few years--"

Louis presses the red button and his mother's voice cuts off, leaving him in silence, because that's exactly when he sees Harry leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed across his chest and face pulled into an upset expression. Louis feels the weight of the phone in his hand threatening to pull him to the ground, but he continues to hold eye contact with Harry, because he thinks that it's the only thing he can do in that moment. The present is the only thing he can count on for the truth, for the absolute reality. Everything else is temporary; there one minute and gone the next, untrustworthy. So he just looks at Harry and Harry just looks back at him, and Louis isn't sure whether the fact that this is the only real thing he has at the time pushes him closer to or further away from a breakdown.

"Louis?"

Harry's voice sounds uncertain and tentative, but it's soft and careful and hearing Harry say his name is so much better than hearing his mother say it. Louis can feel his hands shaking and his heart pounding against his ribcage, but he doesn't drop the phone and is oddly unable to move otherwise. He presses his other palm flat against the wall and tries to let its solidity steady him, but it doesn't really do that at all.

"Um, sorry," Louis manages. He tries to calm down and take an inhale that doesn't falter, but it comes out audibly shaky and makes him feel like crying instead. "That was my mum."

There's another moment when Harry just watches him, eyes visibly deep and contemplative, even from across the room, posture stiff where he stands. Then, suddenly, Harry's moving away from the wall, and before he knows it, Louis is collapsing into him, so close to sobbing that all he can do is hold his breath and fall into the soft fabric of Harry's shirt, feel the way Harry's hands skirt over his upper body, rushing to hold him in and keep him together.

"Louis," he says, voice quiet and meaningful against Louis' hair, sounding like there's no intent behind the word except to just say it.

Louis finds his own hands clutching to the fabric of Harry's shirt, as if it was already an instinctual habit of his to do this. Under normal circumstances, this would be alarming to him, but right now, he is too overwhelmed to even be phased by it. He allows himself to press his cheek into Harry's shoulder and tries to keep the fat tears that swell in his eyes from spilling over, focusing on keeping his breaths even and the feeling of warmth that Harry's body gives his.