Where We Belong

Chapter 17

Zayn calls him when he's just popped a bottle of champagne left over from last New Year's.

"What?"

"I'm sorry."

Louis licks champagne-foam off his hand. "Why?"

"For... assuming things."

"Good for nothing, that," Louis mutters, before he has a big swig of the overly sweet liquid, "assuming things."

"No," Zayn sighs into the phone, "I just—"

"You just what?"

"Can never comprehend why people who can't keep their dick in their pants would even get into monogamous relationships to begin with."

Louis puts the bottle down. "You know what I can't comprehend?" he asks, "how you've known me and Harry for as long as we've been together and the second you hear one thing going wrong you automatically assume that everything's just gone to shit and we might as well say fuck it to everything we've built up together over the past eight years."

"Right." Zayn sighs again. "Right, you're right. S'why I called to apologise. I said what I thought when I thought it. I didn't think it through. I apologise."

"It's all right," Louis tells him, mostly because he's just had another big two swigs of champagne.

"And, like... I guess it just set me off because I walked into your flat in the middle of the afternoon and you were passing out drunk and H wasn't there to take care of you or nothing."

Right. Louis puts the bottle down again. "Well, I'm fine now. And I'm a big boy, I can take care of myself. And also, on that note, ehm, thanks for... tucking me in."

Zayn gives a little chuckle. "Anytime."

"And you know what, I know it might've looked like... like he just fucked it all and left me behind to go up and see her, but that's really not what it's like. He's visiting the kid - just the kid - and then he's coming back tomorrow, I think."

"Okay. Well, then I got things wrong, I'm sorry."

"Yeah."

*

Except when Louis goes to bed alone that night and Harry hasn't texted in hours, he doesn't believe his own words for a second. He can't sleep, even with a bottle of shitty champagne stirring in his gut. He can't stop wondering what Harry's doing, whether he's thinking about Louis right now, or whether he's still with her. If he is, the kid's asleep and it's just Harry and her. Just the two of them, sitting in her little sofa, all cosy.

He checks his phone again. No new messages.

He types out goodnight, and then deletes. Then will you be back tomorrow? and deletes. Then how are you? and— deletes.

In the end, he goes with his first instinct and sends the goodnight.

When he checks his phone first thing the following morning, he's received three messages in response.

H - goodmorning :)

H - sorry didnt see it till this morning, was asleep. how are you?

And then a longer one:

H - called you this morning, but couldnt get hold of you. Will quickly explain here, but call me back when you can still. Marie's study-group thing is actually something she's doing through the week, turns out, and she was going to have her mum come and babysit but since things went well this weekend she'll let me babysit for the week. If I stay up here in sheffield until friday. how do you feel about that? would it be all right with you, I know you're working anyway so ?