It's noon when he wakes up. Drenched in a puddle of his own sweat and vomit. His vision is blurry but the motel room lights are on and everything in the four wall box is a mess. Rubbing his eyes he takes a deep inhale of some tobacco filled air. Looking at the side table next to the bed, he gives a small smile and licks his lips. With his head down and his eyes closed, he picks up the rolled dollar bill and begins to snort the leftovers he decided to get himself last night.
He suddenly sits up and looks at his surroundings, realizing where exactly he is and knowing for a fact that he went home with his coke last night and not to a worn down motel.
"Fucking, Harry," he murmurs. There's a pile of clothes at the end of the bed and a baggie full of things to clean himself with. Even in the worse of times, his husband still cares that he brushes his teeth and flosses every morning. He rolls his eyes and gets out of bed, not caring that he might have just placed his hand in his own vile, and heads to the bathroom to shower.
He remembers how mad Harry was last night that he showed up to the house high and with half a gram in his hand. He remembers the glare at how embarrassed Harry was that he showed up at home like that in front of the guests. He especially remembers how Harry couldn't even look or speak to him when he decided to sit down for dinner. His husband was absolutely mortified.
He lets the water fall on him and slide down his pale skinny body, the scalding hot water making him a tinge red. He thinks of why he does this. The drugs and alcohol. But then he scoffs, figuring that him loving them is the only valid excuse he needs. He gets out and gets dresses, not forgetting to brush and floss his teeth. He soon remembers how he got to the motel and isn't all that happy, but what can he do? He brought it onto himself.
•
Walking up to the driveway, he thinks about how much shit he's going to get from Harry. Not only is this the third time he's been kicked out, it's also the third night he's been locked out. Harry refuses to speak to him, leaving a note on the door saying "GO AWAY" every morning. The note is still there this morning but he chooses to ignore it completely. And since his keys were taken away when he was higher that a fucking kite, he has a decision between breaking a window or the door.
He goes for the door. And Harry wasn't having it at all.
"Before you break that fucking door," he yells from the upstairs bathroom window, the one that shows you the whole front house. "I would just like you to know that I will call the police and let them know that a crazy ass psycho is trying to break into my house."
Louis punches the bridge of his nose and huffs out a breathe. "Harry, open the door, please."
The curly haired lad in the window snorts, "I think the fuck not." Harry never took it this far, but Louis also never took it that far when he was high. It's time for Harry to stand up for himself and stop taking this kind of shit from his husband.
"Harry. I'm not going to say this again. Open the fucking door." Louis' fist are clenched and his temper is rising. He kicks the door and Harry can hear a thud from downstairs.
"Kick that door again and I'll click call." He says it in a sweetly sick voice and that makes Louis fume. He knows he deserves this but he can't stand the fact that Harry refuses to listen to him and show him respect.
Harry wanted Louis to come to the door for the last three days and just beg to be let in; but he didn't, and that just made him lose so much hope in them. He looks at Louis now and can tell he's high. His eyes are red and glazed over, his hair is all over the place, and temper is just beyond the roof.
"If you don't open this door in the next 10 seconds, you're going to regret it." The words are like venom seething out of his mouth, the words falling off his tongue so easily.
"Is that a threat?" Harry holds his voice but he's worried. Worried of what Louis might do and hoping to whatever is out there that's he's bluffing.
"No, baby. It's a promise." He starts counting. "10, 9, 8, 7," Harry clicks call. "6, 5, 4, 3," Louis' voice is rising, neighbors are looking out their windows and doors.
The operator answers and Harry's voice is frantic. "My husband is on drugs and he's threatening to break the door down and hurt me and I don't know what to do. Please help me."
He hears the front door downstairs crack and he's absolutely shitting himself. Jesus fuck, why didn't I just open the door and quite being a little asshole?
"And why is he trying to break down the door, sir?" The operators voice is monotone and makes Harry want to pull his hair.
Why does it fucking matter? Just get the police here, you bat. Is what Harry wanted to say but instead said, "Because I'm a stubborn bitch who doesn't like confrontation especially when I locked him out of the house for three or four days."
The operator snorted and he swore he heard her mutter, "Me." How in the world did this lady get her job?
The front door crashes in and Harry contemplates whether he should just accept what's going to happen or try to jump out the window. It's not that big of a window but he can fit. And the fall isn't that far down, for their house being two stories, it's a quite tiny one.
He decides to go for the latter and shimmy himself out the window and onto the small roof. He completely gave up on the police call and just left her on speaker on the counter. "Okay, Harry. It's not that bad of a jump. You're tall. Yeah, tall people can live through these kinds of things. Oh god, what if I break something? No, not possible. Maybe a sprained ankle but I won't break anything or be dead so at least that's-" His rambling is cut short by Louis banging ion the restroom door. "Jesus fucking Christ. Of all people, I just had to marry a drug addict, didn't I?"
"Harry, if you don't open this fucking door, you're going to regret everything even more." Harry snorts at that because what else can he regret?
"Fuck off, Lewis." He shouldn't have said it and as soon as he did, the door is cracking and falling down. "Fuck fuck fuck," he take one last deep breath and jumps.
