Pride {l.s.}

22- Phone Calls

My phone has rung five times in the past hour. I sit in the studio in the back. I try to concentrate on the painting of a skyline that I hope will get purchased. It's hard to focus when the constant ringing goes off, and I know who it is. I play some music through my phone to fill the silence, but when the ringer goes off, the music stops. I finally think that they're done calling when all of the sudden I get another call. I check the caller ID to see that it's the same person.

I scream in frustration and throw the paintbrush at the canvas. It leaves a large streak of paint in a place where is doesn't belong. I run my hands through my hair and let out a sigh. I look over at my phone to see that there's a voicemail. I click on it to listen.

"Now Louis, this is getting ridiculous. You need to come home this instant," her high-pitched voice says through the speaker. "We can fix this! We just need to try harder. You're broken, and we can fix you. Call me back or at least pick up the phone."

There's no goodbye as she hangs up. I let out another sigh when I finally notice that I'm not alone. I turn around in my seat to see Zayn standing in the doorway looking confused.

"Was that your mom?"

"It's no one important," I snap back before turning away from him.

"I really think you should call her back, Lou. You don't go home. She probably misses you," Zayn tries to reason with me, but I don't listen.

"That place was never home. I'm not going back," I spit out quickly. He doesn't know what it was like there. He doesn't know what I have to go through every time I go there.

"Okay, but am I allowed to ask why she called you broken?"

I turn back to look at Zayn. I know that Zayn would be supportive if I tell him, but I don't want someone to be supportive about this. I need to fix this myself. Eleanor and I can do it.

"It's nothing. She just thinks I'm a rebel for leaving," I somewhat lie. It's not the whole truth, but it is a part of it.

"Oh okay. Um, I know it's only early October, but I wanted to talk about Thanksgiving with you," Zayn begins to say hesitantly. I know what's coming. I can't spend every Thanksgiving with them. I'm not even a member of their family, but I'm glad they have been treating me like their family.

"It's okay, Z. I don't have to spend every Thanksgiving with you. I'll be good staying here," I tell him. I turn around and offer him a small smile in reassurance.

"It's just that we're all heading to my grandma's, and she's up north," Zayn says. He looks in pain just talking about this. "We're going to make a family vacation out of it. I really do want you to come, but it would be slightly..."

"Inappropriate," I complete Zayn's thoughts. "It's okay. You aren't required to take me out for holidays."

"It's just that you've been coming to Thanksgiving for years!" Zayn exclaims with some anger in his voice. "I just wish I didn't have to leave you here."

"You deserve a couple days off from me," I reply with a laugh. "I'll just get some work done. We have more orders coming in with Christmas coming. I can get ahead."

"Try to see if one of the other boys are in town for Thanksgiving. You can spend it with them. What about Eleanor?"

I shrug my shoulders. "She's heading home. I'm not."

Zayn nods his head. "Okay. Well, I'll leave you to your work. I'm gonna head home. Goodnight, Lou. Sorry about this."

Zayn walks out before I have the chance to say goodnight in return. I could see how distraught he was about all of this. I can tell this wasn't his idea. I'll probably make sure he knows that as the date approaches that it's okay to leave me here. He can't carry me on his back all the time. I have to bear my own weight.

I glance over at the canvas, and I decide to give up for tonight. The paint streak that accidentally ended up on the canvas is luckily in an area that I haven't started painting yet. I put a layer of white paint over it and decide to fix it all in the morning. I shut off the lights in the studio and main display room. I head down to my small room and get ready for bed.

I lay on my bed in the dark when my phone goes off again. I immediately assume that it's my mother calling again, but I'm glad when I look over to see that it's Harry's name with a picture I took the other week. He's smiling brightly like his usual self, but he isn't look at the camera. The candid picture of him makes my heart skip a beat.

"Hey, Hazza," I say happily as I answer the phone.

"Hey, Boo Bear," Harry replies shakily.

"What's wrong?" I ask. I can hear it in his voice. Something doesn't sound right. He sounds almost as if he has been crying. I can hear his heaving breathing through the speaker.

"I um I don't really know. I was trying to sleep, and the world started to see really dark and mean. I remember you telling me to call you anytime something bad was going on in my head," Harry says in a rushed voice. "So I called you. I can hang up and let you sleep. I'm sorry if I woke you up."

"It's okay, Haz. I'm here for you whenever, even if it's the middle of the night. I can distract you or comfort you or whatever," I tell him gently. I want him to understand that I am here for whenever and wherever he needs me.

"You always distract me, Lou," Harry says, and I can bet that there is a small smirk on his face. I'm glad that at least flirting is distracting him from his thoughts. He is already sounding a little bit better.

"You just love flirting, don't you?" I continue the banter to help him get distracted. "You're quite the cheeky one."

"Just a little bit," Harry replies with a little giggle. He actually giggled. I'll admit that there is a side of me that likes this flirting. I know that I shouldn't like this, but I like it. I really really like it.

"Harry, I have a question."

"Okay. Go ahead."

"Like why don't you date? I've known you for a little over a month and you've never spoken about anyone in a romantic way," I ask cautiously.

There's silence on the other end of the line before he replies. "Oh well, I really like someone. I guess I'm just waiting for the right time."

"How much do you like him?" I ask him as I try to hide the pain that comes from hearing that he likes someone. Why does it hurt?

"A lot. Like I swear I'm in love with him," Harry admits with a groan of annoyance. "Like it's not like a small crush. He's all I think about. I dream about him. I want to see him every day. I like just sitting in silence with him. His laugh is like music to my ears. I want to have him sing me to sleep every night. I'm screwed, Lou."

"He sounds like a fine guy," I manage to get out. Why am I tearing up? "Do I know him?"

"That's enough questions for tonight," Harry replies with a laugh. "We should both get some sleep since we work tomorrow. Goodnight, Boo Bear."

"Goodnight, Hazza."

The room is a lot emptier and lonelier now. I'm not sure if it's because Harry isn't talking to me or if it's because I know that Harry's heart is taken. That last one shouldn't bother me, but it feels like I've been shot in the chest.

A/N

You guys are awesome...

xoxo raindropkiss1