Let Me Show You How to Love Yourself (Larry Stylinson) ✅

Time

It was raining. Pouring, really. The rain pounded on the patio floor, sending cold wet splatters onto Louis' legs, even though he was sitting beneath the roof, seemingly protected from the falling raindrops. Louis patted his jeans where the water had splashed, creating small, dark stains on the fabric on his thighs. He checked his phone, sighing, and then turned around and went back inside, walking through Niall's room and heading to the kitchen.

It had been three weeks since he last spoke to Harry, last seen him. The last thing he could remember was Harry leaning over the kitchen counter, shaking his ass at him, inviting him, begging him to come over and penetrate him.

Louis wondered what would have happened if he hadn't panicked and had actually gone through with it. Would Harry still be speaking with him? Would they be together? He didn't know, but it hurt to think about, so he reached for the fridge, using dinner as a distraction.

Niall was out of town this weekend. He was going to visit friends in Cheshire with Sophie. Louis had already spent so much money on takeout, that he couldn't afford to buy another meal. So he rummaged through the fridge, looking for the ingredients to make a sandwich or something simple. He wondered if Harry had been eating lately. He probably hadn't.

Louis ran into Zayn a few times in the hallway on the way to work over the past few weeks. He avoided eye contact and kept the conversation sort, emotionlessly stating something about the weather or the news. There was nothing to say to Zayn after what had happened between them.

When they were in the lift together a few days ago, though, Louis couldn't resist asking him about Harry. Zayn was wearing a slim grey suit-- it made him look regal, ethical almost. It was probably a way to make his clients find him more trustworthy, more professional. But Louis knew the truth about his across the hall neighbor with the soft brown eyes and spiky dark hair. He wasn't so easily fooled.

"How's Harry?" Louis asked quietly, his blue eyes focused on his sneakers. Zayn looked over at him, a bit surprised by the question. It was more than he was comfortable sharing with Louis. "He's good actually. He got a job at the bakery. He seems a lot happier," Zayn said with a small smile. Louis felt his lips turn upwards voluntarily, keeping his gaze on the floor below him so that his smile wouldn't be directed at Zayn.

"That's great to hear. Glad he's doing well," Louis said as the elevator beeped and opened up. They stepped out of the flat and quickly walked in opposite directions, even though they were taking the same train. Louis felt his heart lighten a bit for the first time since that dreadful plane ride. Because despite all the bullshit he had put him through, Harry was actually okay.

On his walk to work, however, Louis' happiness quickly began to fade, and he was overcome with a feeling of anxiety and fear. Harry was doing well on his own. Which was a wonderful thing. It meant he was becoming more self sufficient, he was taking charge and being more responsible for his meals. But it also meant that he didn't need Louis -- in fact, he was better off without him.

And that made Louis feel absolutely awful.

When he got to his desk that afternoon, nearly tripping over one of the plastic office plants, he didn't feel like his usual spunky self. In fact, he felt quite the opposite. Taking a seat on his swivel chair, he opened up his computer to find today's agenda.

To do:
Funny article on fasion or lifestyle. Due at 7pm.

Louis' fingers lingered over the keys. There were about twenty different ideas he had come up with this weekend for the new article, but none of them felt right, none of them felt natural right now. Louis was used to shoving his feelings down -- or drinking or eating them away -- when he was on a deadline so that he could churn out what his editor wanted without letting his emotions manipulate his writing. But today he wasn't in the mood to do that. So he decided he would write something different.