Masked - A Larry Stylinson Fan-Fiction

Chapter 21 - Masked.

Chapter 21

My arms had gone numb by the time we got home. I didn't know it was humanly possible to carry that many bags.

"Is it just me," Louis slurred with fatigue, flopping onto the couch. "Or, can you not feel your arms?"

I laughed letting my legs give out beneath me, falling onto the couch. "Yeah, I'm pretty convinced at this point that I don't actually own any."

Louis rolled his head over to me, and stroked my arm, gingerly. "Nah, you got some."

I closed my eyes, and laughed. "You're such a dickhead, Lou."

He let out a huff or groan, in response - I wasn't quite sure which it was.

"You hungry?" I asked.

Louis kept his eyes closed, and nodded.

"Me too," I responded. "But, I still can't feel my arms."

He broke out into a smile. "You know any take-out that delivers?"

We both responded in-sync; "Chinese."

***

I slammed my fist against Louis's bedroom room. "Just admit it Louis. Just fucking admit it!"

He rubbed a hand over his face. His whole face read - tired. But, I turned the page. "Admit what, Harry?"

"You love her," I swallowed hard - ignoring the lump in the base of my throat. "You love her more than you ever loved me."

He groaned, he was too tired to have this conversation, I knew that. But, I still pushed him. I wasn't sure why, but I needed him to speak those words aloud.

"Of course I love her more Harry," he sighed. "She is my girlfriend."

But, I still love you. Even though you're with her. And, damn it. I need you to love me back.

"Fuck you, Louis. Fuck you." Even now, I can't explain why I said that. Maybe because, it seemed that all I could see was red - this sea of red rushing behind my eyelids. The red of my blood boiling my veins. The red of Louis's words - it all just felt red. So, in the moment, that felt appropriate.

Louis stood up from his bed. "Really Harry? You're telling me to fuck myself, all because I love my girlfriend? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Well, isn't that just the million dollar question.

"Oh, right," I hissed. "Let me fix that. Go fuck your girlfriend." And, with that I left his room.

I had managed to escape half-way down the halfway before Louis called out after me.

"Harry, don't you fucking dare walk away from me!"

I leaned against the wall of the hallway, and waited for him. And, surely enough, he stormed out.

"Right," I started. "So, let me get this straight. You can run off to your girlfriend, but I'm not allowed to walk away from you. Wow, great logic there, Louis."

"Ha," he laughed, his voice dry of humour. "Difference is I can actually look after myself."

I thought back to how I found him when I returned for the hospital - broken written across every bone of his body.

I shook the thought off - I may be pissed, but I'm not a complete asshole. "And, what makes you think I can't look after myself?"

"Let me think," he pretended to ponder over the thought. "The minute my back is turned you're in hospital because of a suicide attempt."