Rivals - L.S.

Fifteen - Back to the Beginning

After the bar, Harry quickly retreated home and locked himself in the safety of his bedroom. This nagging feeling of worry and sadness and self destruction was becoming all too familiar and Harry didn't like it, not one bit. He buried himself in his covers and stared up at his ceiling, losing himself in his messy thoughts.

Harry realized that he didn't feel angry. Obviously, he was hurt, but that wasn't really even the most predominant emotion Harry had felt.

He realized that he was afraid, scared out of his wits.

Harry was afraid that this Louis he had come to know was too good to be true, that the old Louis was coming back and that Harry would go back to being ridiculed once more. He was afraid that maybe, just maybe, it all meant more to Harry then it did to Louis. He was afraid that it would all be over soon.

Now sure, part of Harry thought that he was probably just overreacting. Maybe the reporters had caught Louis at a bad time, he could have been stressed after the game or frustrated about something completely unrelated or just tired. Another other part of him thought that Louis never actually cared, that it was all some elaborate rouse to make Harry look like a dumbass. And lastly, Harry thought that maybe Louis just finally realized he could do better and he didn't want anyone to think he was dating a joke like 'Harry Styles'.

Yet another dilemma now arose in Harry's mind. How the hell did he go about finding a solution to his newest existential crisis? Did he just call Louis out, demand answers and tell him how he felt? Or did he play it off and act like he wasn't affected at all?

Feeling defeated, he slumped into his bed and gave Niall a call to have yet another session of 'Niall Getting Harry's Shit Together For Him' (a weekly occurrence that both boys had become accustomed to).

The blonde came to his rescue, as usual, and the boys holed up once again in Harry's bedroom trying to strategize.

-

Louis felt awful. He really did. Louis knew that Harry must have seen the interview. He just needed to explain, that wasn't the full story and that wasn't the way it all went down. The video was edited, Louis said all of that in different orders to different questions for different reasons.

But now, Harry was ignoring Louis' constant calls and texts, and Louis felt hopeless. He didn't even bother going to Harry's flat, it was obvious the boy didn't want to see him. Why would he? Louis was a monster who self destructed every good thing he had, and Harry was proof of that time and time again.

Louis stumbled into his kitchen, pouring himself a glass of whiskey. He knew a glass wouldn't have been enough. He abandoned the half full cup and settled on taking the whole bottle back with him.

Louis sunk down into his couch and took a swig, feeling like his lost high school self was coming back to haunt him. He didn't fight it though, he didn't do what he did any other time he felt this way. He didn't pour it out and take a nap and sleep away his sorrows. He had been getting better with avoiding his 'sad drinking'. But this time, his heart was just too heavy because he knew that he would never stop hurting Harry no matter how hard he tried.

He was always going to be seen as the bad guy, no matter what he did.

At least Louis had one constant. He couldn't ruin a relationship with something that wasn't alive, he couldn't hurt his whiskey and it couldn't hurt him either.

-

The clock read 2:23 a.m, Harry was fast asleep in his bed and Niall was sprawled out beside him. Harry was a light sleeper and Niall's snoring kept waking him up, he decided to just give up. He waddled out into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water and maybe watch some television until he fell back asleep on the couch.

But Harry got an unsettling feeling, he heard a strange noise coming from outside his door. He couldn't quite make out what it was, it sounded like crying or whimpering or sniffling or something like that. Like it was an instinct, Harry grabbed his baseball bat and silently crept up to the door.

But when he looked through the peep hole, he didn't see anybody there. Maybe he was imagining it, maybe his building was haunted or maybe Harry was just bat shit crazy. He didn't know.

He cracked open the door, leaving the top notch locked so it would only open partially. And that's when Harry saw him.

Louis was sitting in the hallway, knees to his chest and face hidden in his hands. A single rose rested beside him on the tile, his phone and keys and wallet also amongst the pile. He was crying, it was so obvious now.

"Louis?" Harry whispered, afraid that if he spoke too loud the boy would break.

The brunette flinched, his head snapping upwards. His pretty blue eyes looked empty, a small flicker of hope appearing once he met Harry's blue ones. He struggled to his feet, legs wobbly, and he cleared his throat. "Hi," he said in a scratchy voice.

"What are you doing here? Are you okay?" Harry asked, unlocking the door and stepping into the hallway, concerned.

Louis bent down to pick up the rose. "I couldn't sleep. I, um, I was trying to call you but you didn't pick up and I came over here to explain what happened. But I am kinda drunk and I didn't realize it was so late and I just-"

"-Come in, Lou. It's alright, I'm sorry," Harry said shakily, his heart aching with guilt when he heard Louis' words.

Louis held the flower out to Harry who took it graciously before grabbing the rest of his things and stepping inside the flat.

"Sit down on the couch. I'll make some coffee. We just have to be quiet so we don't wake Niall," Harry said in a reassuring voice, resting a hand on Louis' side to guide him in.

Louis nodded and moved to the living area. "I'm sorry Harry," he whispered into the darkness.

Harry turned on a small lamp in the living room before setting the coffee pot on. "I know, Louis," he whispered back, "I was just trying to take some time to think."

"I didn't say all that, I swear. Well, I said it, but it wasn't about you. Okay, some was, but you don't understand. They edited the footage, it cut out all of the things they said to me. It was awful," he explained as a tear rolled down his cheek, "That was why I was angry, that was why I asked why they were talking to me and why I swore and why I ran away. I didn't want you involved so I tried to shut it down, I know you must hate me and not want to be with me-"

"-Don't ever say that. I'd never hate you, I'd never not want to be with you, okay? I'm so sorry I was mad at you, I should've waited for your side of the story and I should've not taken it so hard and I'm so sorry, Lou," Harry said quickly, forgetting about the coffee and moving to sit beside Louis on the couch. He could smell the alcohol on the boy now and knew that Louis must have really felt awful. He said he only drank when he was sad.

Louis pulled Harry into a tight hug. He didn't say anything, he just buried his face in the curly haired boy's neck and held him close. Harry placed a soft kiss on Louis' cheek and wrapped his arms around the boy's waist. They stayed like that for a while.

"Haz?" Louis whispered eventually.

"Yeah?" Harry replied in a hushed tone.

"Promise me we're okay? Promise me you won't leave?"

Harry pulled away to look into Louis' tired eyes. "I promise. I'm not going anywhere. It's you and me," he told him.

Louis pressed his lips to Harry's, tasting like whiskey and cherry chapstick. This kiss was more desperate, it felt like they both needed it more this time. This kiss gave them both the comfort they needed. In that moment, they both felt like things would be okay.

After lots of kissing, a little bit of crying and lots of coffee, Louis and Harry fell asleep in a tangled mess of body parts on the couch.