Rivals - L.S.

Eight - Silent Treatment

When Harry woke up the next morning, he was alone in his large bed. He was completely confused. Did Louis leave during the night? Was he okay? Harry rolled over onto his side in an attempt to reach for his phone but something crunched beneath him. He sat up, seeing a piece of paper squished beside him. He rubbed his tired green eyes with balled fists, wiping away the sleep before picking it up.

Harry-
I know what you're probably thinking: 'Where the hell did he go?' Well, I woke up in your bed and kind of panicked. I know I was wasted, and I've been told Drunk Louis isn't very fun. I didn't know what I said or did and figured it'd be best if I just went home before I ruined your trash can any further (I swear I'll replace that by the way, sorry about the vomit smell). Usually I don't let myself get that drunk but I think I had a pretty good reason this time. Anyways, I was writing this to thank you. I don't deserve your help but you give it to me anyways and I don't know how I can repay you for that. It means a lot to me, really. You're an amazing guy, Harry, and I hope you know that. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for everything you've done for me.
-Lou
P.S. You're a great little spoon :)

Harry read over the messy scribbles a few times. He wanted to grin and smile and blush but he couldn't. He was still worried about Louis. He had a reason to get smashed? What was it? To Harry, people only got that drunk because they were happy or they were sad. Was Louis sad when he got drunk? He had said that he was upset a lot and vodka (plus Harry) made him feel better. Harry just wanted Louis to be okay, he was too lovely to be hurting.

Harry neatly folded up the note and tucked it inside his bedside table's drawer; that was where Harry liked to keep his important things like souvenirs, photos, letters, etc. He forced himself out of the bed, realizing he was still in his tight clothes from the night before. Too lazy to change, Harry left it on and shrugged a blanket around his shoulders. He shuffled out into the living room and made a full sweep through the flat. He didn't really know why, it was obvious that Louis had left, but Harry still did. He sighed and grabbed a banana off of the kitchen counter, flopping down on the couch as he got lost in his own thoughts.

His phone started to ring, snapping him out of his trance. He groaned loudly, seeing that it was Nick calling. "Hello," Harry said, faking his enthusiasm.

"Harry! How are you, lad? I just wanted to call and check up on you, just to see how things with the team were going. I like to keep a tight leash when it comes to management, you know?" Nick hollered cheerfully.

Harry rolled his eyes, annoyed by how peppy Nick was this early in the morning. "Things are good, thank you for asking. The guys have been great," he replied.

"Good. Are you having any more issues with Tomlinson? I know you got off to a rough start but I had seen some pictures of you two out and about. Are your problems all resolved?"

Harry nodded, even though Nick couldn't see him. "Yeah, actually. We've gotten pretty... pretty friendly these last few days. He's not what I thought, we're getting along fine now," Harry explained.

"That's great. Louis isn't particularly popular with the guys so I'm glad you've found a friend in him," he paused, "Anyways, Louis wasn't the point of this conversation. I wanted to inform you that your first game is next weekend. I wasn't sure if Cowell had mentioned it to you yet, the federation had me relay the message."

A game? Harry had almost forgotten that they would actually be competing against people other than themselves. "Oh. Yeah, I hadn't heard yet. But thank you for letting me know, Nick, I'm looking forward to it," Harry paused to squint at the clock, "I really should be going, don't want to be late to practice."