This Feels A Lot Like Love

17. All Of My Words Will Always Be Low Of All The Love We Spoke

Harry "broke up" with Louis on Monday morning. It was just a few, simple words, but it ripped his heart in half all the same.

Harry couldn't forget the look on Louis' face when he read the note. He was leaning against the wall of lockers and talking to Stanley, his ankles crossed together. He didn't mean to be there when Louis came, he truly didn't, but he couldn't leave either. He was stuck on how Louis looked when he arrived, his skin glowing and his cheeks sun-kissed. Louis shot Harry a tiny smile, relieved now that they had reconciled prior a few days after their big fight. But Harry cowardly looked away.

Harry bit on his lip harshly as he heard the inevitable locker door open. He timidly looked up. Louis grabbed the small piece of paper with his name written over it and smiled again at Harry. Harry should have savored that sweet smile if he knew it would be the last one. Louis turned around the slip of paper to silently read the message.

I'm giving you up. I'm sorry.

- H

Louis' eyebrows pinched together. He looked towards Harry with a question written across his eyes. Harry quickly avoided Louis' eyes, instead focusing his attention on Stanley and sucking on his bottom lip as a bloody distraction. Out of his peripherals, he saw Louis scowl and crumple the note into a tiny ball, throwing it on the floor and slamming his locker door shut. Louis walked away with tensed shoulders and fast footsteps.

Harry's heart broke.

Harry thought he could do this, whatever this was, with Louis. He thought it was enough. And it was in the beginning. Louis was enough. They fucked and they tried new things in bed. Louis explored Harry's kinky side and Harry learned how Louis loved equal parts of being dominant as well as submissive.

Harry clearly remembered the time he ate Louis out from behind for half an hour straight. He was rendered speechless when Louis finally came untouched, sounding destroyed when he moaned, breathing out Harry's name like he was gagging on it. Louis' body stretched out onto the mattress and trembled violently and suddenly Harry couldn't touch him, couldn't even look at him. Harry stumbled on unsteady feet and wobbled outside, rushing to the bathroom to cool off and splash cold water on his flaming face. By the time he came back after rinsing his mouth and slight toothbrushing, Louis was still curled up into himself and panting wetly on the pillow. It was so raw and hot and wrong that Harry immediately wanted to go down on him again, stuff a silk tie into Louis' mouth so he was gagging on it instead.

Even through the fights and the screaming and the heartbreak, they were happy. Really—fucking—happy. But then afterwards, with Louis' nose buried in Harry's hair, Harry would silently whimper and cry himself to sleep. His heart would ache. Empty with a burning need for Louis' love.

Harry thought it was enough. That they were enough. He was wrong.

On April 27th, Louis slowly started to disappear from Harry's life. It was subtle enough that Harry didn't realize the first red, warning signs. When they would hang out in a group, Louis always had excuses about leaving early. The rest of the boys and Jade would merely shrug, Harry watching Louis go every single time.

On May 6th, Louis stopped talking to Harry altogether. They would talk bits and pieces on the edge of being uncomfortable, but Harry was happy that Louis started talking to him again after he ignored him for torturous weeks right after the break up. Then, Louis just stopped talking to Harry altogether, oblivious to Harry's existence. It hurt.

On May 12th, Harry received his own personalized note. It slipped out from one of his textbooks, falling at his pigeon-toed feet. Harry bent down and picked it up. Twelve words. That was all it had taken for his heartbeat to start pounding loudly in his ears and for his lip to start quivering.