One Meaningless Promise

One Meaningless Promise~16

Chapter 16.

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Harry woke up laying in a bed. His clothes from the previous day were still on, and he had no idea what had happened. Adjusting his vision to the darkness surrounding him, Harry peered around the room. Random articles of clothing were strewn across the floor along with ofer miscellaneous objects. It was messy. It was Louis's room.

Harry realised that he was resting on an uneven surface, something lumpy and...warm. He looked down and saw that he was lying halfway off of the bed, and his head was resting on Louis's chest, who was sleeping heavily underneath him. Then, he remembered. He remembered the fight, and he remembered everything after the fight, too. Harry sat up, being careful not to wake Louis as he tiptoed out of Louis's room and into the bathroom. He quietly shut the door behind him and turned on the switch, squinting in the bright light. In the mirror, he almost jumped as he saw his reflection. The tired, lifeless boy in the mirror that he had gotten used to had somehow transformed into a whole new, maybe even happy person. He had an idea of why he had changed for the better, but it was stupid. Brushing the thought away, Harry splashed his face with cold water and dried it off with a white towel from the cabinet. Then he turned off the light and walked out of the bathroom. After debating for a moment of he should go back into Louis's room, Harry decided that he really wanted to see Louis's face again. He knew it was bad, because he still was angry at him, but the way he was so broken and vulnerable with him that last night...he was practically irresistible.

Harry quickly went into his room and changed into sweatpants and a sweater before he snuck back into Louis's room. The sleeping boy was still laying in bed, his soft hair splayed all across his pillow and his arms hugged tightly into his body. Harry watched in awe as his chest rose and fell with each tiny snore that escaped his parted lips. He was so beautiful...

Harry reached out and ran his fingers along the prominent line of Louis's cheekbone, watching as the boy's eyebrows pulled together with his touch. A smile turned up the corners of his lips and he made his way to the opposite side of the bed, climbing underneath the blankets and deciding against snuggling up to Louis. It was too soon to forgive him fully. It was too soon for anything...he just wasn't ready yet. Harry turned away from Louis so that he wouldn't be tempted to go anywhere hear him, and shut his eyes, staring at the wall until sleep finally dragged him into blackness.

***

Louis doesn't know how or why, but Harry is sleeping in the same bed as him, as far away from him as possible when he wakes. He remembers the night before, cringing as images of their fight leaked into his mind like a poisonous fog. But then, the afterward events... Harry's arms holding him together like he was as fragile as glass, his gentle hands leaving soft touches on his face, those honest, green eyes gazing down at him in a way that made Louis feel like he was going to he safe forever, for as long as he had Harry. Louis felt himself blushing. Thank god Harry couldn't see him.

He was still sleeping, his muscular back and his broad shoulders facing Louis. Louis leaned closer to Harry so he could see all of the little details, like how wildly his curls fell over his pale cheeks and how his lips looked unbelievably soft and delicious and so kissable... Then, his eyes snapped open and Louis was staring straight into bright green, only inches from his face. Louis jumped back to the other side of the bed, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. Harry sat up on his elbows, cocking his head sideways to look at Louis with a confused expression.

"What are you doing?" He asked, furrowing his eyebrows together.

"I-I uh, sorry. You just looked-" Louis cut himself short. "Never mind."

He was almost relieved to see a small smile grace itself upon Harry's lips. Then, Harry gestured with his hands for Louis to come closer to him. Warily, he scooted over to the other side of the bed, still a few feet away. Harry slid his hand around Louis's back and pulled him close enough to him that he could feel the warmth of his body radiating against his. Louis's stomach flopped and he gulped nervously, feeling the warmth of Harry's hand through his tshirt. Then, Harry placed his palm gently on Louis's forehead, feeling for a fever. He frowned.

"You feeling okay, Louis?" Harry asked concernedly in his husky voice.

"Um, yeah, I think so," he lied. He honestly felt like shit. Probably from all that crying... How embarrassing.

"You're running a fever," Harry said simply. "Wait here."

Harry stood up from bed, leaving Louis's bedroom and shutting the door behind him. Louis sunk back his pillows, letting out the breath that he hadn't realised he was holding. It was frustrating to know what Harry was feeling. Usually, Louis was excellent at reading people just from their body language, but Harry was difficult, and he didn't know why. Suddenly, Louis's stomach lurched and he hurriedly yanked off the blankets, rushing into the bathroom and kneeling beside the toilet, emptying his stomach for the second time since the night before. He must've been catching some sort of cold. Wiping his mouth with a wad of tissues, Louis flushed his vomit down just as Harry stepped into the bathroom, a mug in his hands with steam floating from the brim. He set the cup on the counter and frowned slightly, making his way over to Louis and placing a hand on the small of his back, analysing his face and staring worriedly into his eyes.

"I think you're sick," he stated, walking Louis over to the sink and handing him his toothbrush and toothpaste.

Louis scrubbed and rinsed his mouth until the sour taste of bile had went away, then he turned towards Harry, who was standing in the doorway, watching him with a hint of empathy hidden in his expression. Reaching his long across the sink, Harry held the mug out to Louis and he took it in his small hands, slowly raising it to his nose to sniff it tentatively. It smelled like regular tea--he hoped there wasn't any horrid medicine secretly sitting at the bottom of the cup.

"Don't worry, there's not any medicine in it," Harry assured him, cracking the smallest of smiles. "Whenever I was sick, my mother'd always give me a cup of that stuff. Works miracles, I tell you."

Louis lifted the mug to his lips, cautiously sipping a tiny amount of the hot liquid. It tasted like any regular cup of tea, except for one little thing that Louis couldn't quite put his finger on. He took a larger drink from the mug.

"What is in this?" Louis asked curiously.

"Tea and some pickle juice."

Louis almost gagged. "What the hell, Harry! You made me drink pickle juice tea?"

"Hey, it helps."

Harry was grinning widely, a simple poking through his left cheek as Louis pushed the mug across the counter with an appalled look on his face. Harry slid it right back.

"If you want to get better, I suggest you drink it," he said, raising his eyebrows almost tauntingly.

Louis took another gulp, and crinkled his nose. "Ew."

Harry watched him amusedly as he painfully downed the remaining pickle tea in the cup. When he was finished, he crossed his arms and glared up at the curly boy.

"That was plain awful."

"You liked it before I told you what was in it," Harry countered.

"Yeah, well I changed my mind."

Harry snorted and rolled his eyes in the cutest way. Suddenly tired, Louis yawned, walking past Harry and back into his bedroom, flopping on his bed face down. Harry followed him and sat on the bed beside Louis. Louis flipped over on his back and let out a deep breath, sniffling lightly and looking up at Harry. He looked so beautiful, with his soft hair splayed around his head and his high cheekbones and thin lips. Harry reached out and took his small hand, entwining their fingers together. Louis close his eyes and squeezed his hand softly, a content smile on his face. This moment needed no words. They both knew what was developing. Their feelings for each other. But Louis was still unsure if Harry could be trusted with his heart. Louis had to keep reminding himself that Harry was still a drinker, a smoker, and a player. As hard as he tried to stop the thought from entering his mind, Louis couldn't help it. Harry was dangerous. Louis couldn't risk having his heart broken again. All Louis needed was time to decide whether having Harry was worth the risk of another broken heart.

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~Bell