writers. / harry styles ( DISCONTINUED )

nine

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n i n e ;

   My body was numb and filled with a giddy excitement from knowing Harry was coming with me to New York to pursue treatment. It made me nervous for him to see the real me, sure, I'll admit to that, but I'm just glad I'll have somebody with me. Even if it isn't Louis. But God, I wanted Louis to come. He is the closest person in my life, after all.

Right now, Louis was sat in front of his sleek MacBook Pro, typing away with me only sitting there and admiring his profound cheekbones that are to die for. A shallow frown was painted like Mona Lisa on his beautiful, statue-like face.

"You're very pretty, you know that?" I said, my smile quirking up on both sides at calling him "pretty", though he very much was.

"Damn, it's about time you notice. I've been flawless for years, dear," Louis responded, flipping his imaginary hair off his shoulder sassily. I giggled, smiling deeply and getting up from my seat that was nearly across the room of the café. I pulled up a chair next to him, putting it nearly arm-to-arm with his. I sat down, bringing my leg up comfortably and leaning my head on Louis' shoulder.

"Whatcha doin'?" I asked, nearly a faint whisper as my eyes finally wandered to his screen, his Gmail account popped up with apparent '8,459 unread emails' in his inbox. Or at least that's what it said. But currently, he was writing one.

"Emailing Lydia about treatment and your living arrangements and literally everything else. It's giving me a major headache," Louis groaned, the vibration traveling up from his chest to his shoulders where my cheek gently laid.

"Living arrangements. That must be tricky. Fill me in," I said quietly, calmly. My voice could honestly ease a crying child at the moment. Louis turned his head slightly, gazing down at me and letting his eyes drift back to the screen with a gentle smile on his face.

"Lydia and I are thinking that the time span of your treatment is long enough that you should get an apartment there, in New York," Louis said, sighing deeply and sadly, I can imagine.

"How long?"

Louis stayed silent for a few moments, bowing his head and biting his bottom lip in distress. "Eight months."

A lump instantly formed in my throat, making me feel the need to sit up straight, taking my head off of Louis' shoulder. "Eight months? Why that long?" I asked quietly, turning to him and meeting his eyes. The was a faint sick feeling in my chest. That's a long time.

"She took into consideration how long you've been off your meds and how long it's been since your last time getting treatment and she thinks it will actually take a lot of treatment and strength to get you permanently cured and well again," he said, pressing his lips into a firm line and turning to face the screen in front of him once again.

   "I don't think it would take eight months to cure what I have," I said calmly, facing forward in my seat and sighing in growing angst.

   "I think it would take eight months to cure Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Anxiety, and Dysthymia, Mars," Louis said, taking his hands away from the keyboard, finally, and crossing his arms across his chest.

   "Well, now that you list them off it makes me feel like a piece of shit," I stated coldly, the statement coming out much more frigid and mean than I had intended, making me flinch at even my own words. "I'm sorry, I–"

   "Mars, we've went over this, your disorders don't make you a "piece of shit", they make you a person who stayed strong for too long but couldn't take it so you let go. You let go of yourself and you got sick, you got sick and even I couldn't pull you out of it," his voice cracked, his eyes softly closing and his jaw clenching to keep himself collected. I hated driving him to this point all the damn time.

   We stayed silent, just us two, sitting next to each other, both of our eyes glued to that damned unfinished email on the screen with that damned blinking blue line. Everything was so undesirable in this moment. Every moment of silence between us two was antagonizing.

   "I'm sorry."

   "I know, I am, too."

   "So, I'll be getting an apartment with Harry?" I asked, trying desperately to keep the conversation going and to keep him from getting mad and even more stressed than he already was.

"Yeah," he said simply, nodding. "We are trying to find a nice apartment complex near her office and stuff," Louis explained, nodding again and beginning to type on his sleek keyboard yet again. I just sat, nodded once, and sat contently to watch him type rapidly on the keyboard. The clicking acting as an easer to me. Louis, too, I'm sure.

The mention of Harry instantly brought his beautiful forest eyes into mind, making me smile. It had only now occurred to me that I should probably get his number to stay in touch. It almost blows my mind at the thought of it just slipping my mind. I've known him for just over two weeks now and he's now moving to New York with me for eight months. He must be fucking insane just like me, literally.

   "I wish Harry were here, I have to go over a fuck ton of stuff with him about the trip and living arrangements and..." Louis trailed off, letting out a loud, frustrated groan and running his hand tiredly down his face. It made me grimace at the dark circles under his eyes. I can't imagine the hardships he's been through this past week. Worrying and planning and more worrying, I can't imagine.

   "I wish I got his number, it would've made this process so much easier," I said, shrugging sadly and letting out a small sigh, letting my head fall back and my eyes to fall on the ceiling above me. I silently picked out the tiny flaws of the drywall on the ceiling. There were small, black cracks harboring the ceiling and it made me frown. Though, this building is old, it should be expected.

   "Yeah, you've known him for a bit now and you two seem like best friends, how have you not gotten his number?" Louis asked, his eyebrows furrowed in slight confusion though his eyes never left the screen in front of him.

   "You're my best friend, though, you can't be replaced," I retorted, furrowing my brows and pouting only a bit, leaning my head on him again. I could see the glint of Louis' smile in the glossy screen in front of us, making me smile, also.

   Louis leaned his head down, taking his hands off the keyboard and putting one hand on the other side of my face opposite of him, pushing my cheek to his shoulder more, gently placing a kiss to the top of my head. "You're too good to me, Mars."

   "It's impossible to be any less than good to an angel," I said quietly, letting my breath fan out gently from my nose as Louis let out a small laugh, gently pushing a hair back that had fallen in my eyes.

   "So poetic, love," Louis softly said, going back to type on his laptop. The rhythmic clicking on repeat made me tiresome, and soon, I fall into a light sleep on the shoulder of my favorite person in the entire world.

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This was so short and just a filler and I apologize. I will update very soon, I promise. This was so badly written and more is going to happen. Any predictions though? Thoughts? Love you guys.

September 2nd, 2016.

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- brea (: