Philophobia
(n.) fear of falling in love
It's the way that Louis stares.
The way that his eyes just sort of light up when he manages to catch these moments that no one else seems to and that smile just appears just at the edges where his lips meet, that hidden smile that's reserved. Harry catches him, of course.
It's overwhelming. Louis looked at him with so much that it completely terrifies him, he looks at him like he fell from the sky, not like he's broken. And maybe he believes that he can fix him.
He distances himself, helping him along is the fact that Louis hasn't quite twigged what's going on. He notices when Harry pulls away from him sooner than he normally would, or when he doesn't respond when Louis drops one of their inside jokes. He knows he notices because Louis telegraphs everything he feels on his face, there's confusion in that hurt but no accusation. The longer he could keep pushing them apart without Louis figuring it the whole way out, the easier this would be. Harry hates those moments when Louis' face falls and he tries to avoid eye contact every time he does something which he thinks will cause one. Ignore a touch, then look away. Leave a joke hanging, then look away. He starts to feel as though he's spending half his time with Louis trying not to look at him.
He catches little moments that he wishes he didn't, Stripes, Louis cat, climbs onto Louis lap and he lifts his hands to make room. Harry wonders idly how many more times he'll watch that happen. Then he wonders when he started counting down instead of up.
He feels the distance stretching out further and further between them and it's as if Louis notices but doesn't acknowledge it. If he turns the music up loud in the car he almost doesn't notice how deafeningly silent the drive home from work seems now when he's alone.
He should have left earlier, before a single person became everything. But he allows himself s little relief, had to keep coming back, even for just the night.
He starts to fall apart. At first it happens little by little, almost in a way where he doesn't even notice that he is actually breaking at the seams. He cannot let his edges hurt Louis.
He tries to distract himself because life without Louis seems impossible. He reads, he watches t.v, he plays golf but even with all of these distractions, he dreams.
"It's different this time." Harry says.
"You loved him, didn't you." Niall says. Harry nods and Niall bites his lip.
There's this flashback that flashes through his mind a lot lately as every time it turns to night and Harry lays under the stars unable to sleep, it's there in the front if his mind. Louis had always been obsessed with the stars. And the memory breaks him even more because he could have left earlier, he could have saved himself and Louis this heart break.
Louis was looking up at the stars admiring them, much like Harry was admiring Louis. Harry then asks why Louis brought him up here, in this old tree house without a roof which was so old that it creaked when they moved, and Louis doesn't give a real reply. He just points at the sky, smiles and says,
"Look at the stars, Haz." And then he turns to look at Harry, his hair falling in his face. "They're shining for you."
Harry's heart stutters and he's completely choked. Butterflies fill his stomach and he's suddenly burning with love and adoration for the feathery haired boy laying next to him. He looks at Louis for a long moment before he finally tears his eyes from the older boys face and looks at the stars. Harry gazes at the little lights that fill the sky and he thinks that Louis is wrong. The stars are shining but there shining for the boy beside him.
And it's only after his heart slows down and the butterflies began to flutter less rapidly and his skin is left with only a soft warmth and he was in bed counting the stars that were nowhere near as bright as Louis' eyes, that he realises how gone he is for him. It terrifies him but as Louis shuffles closer into his side in his sleep he decides to push the fear away.
