fighting love » l.s.

nine - nervous

They got breakfast and everything was perfect. There wasn't a second that they weren't laughing. All of Harry's barriers were forgotten as soon as Louis smiled. He made Harry feel things that he had never felt before. He dropped Harry off at home afterwards and Harry couldn't stop smiling.

Harry wasted the rest of the weekend hanging around at home. His mum wasn't supposed to be home until late Sunday night, well after Harry usually went to bed, so he had the house to himself. He didn't have to worry about what he did or the noises he made setting her off. He did his homework, blasted his music, and thought about Louis.

Mostly, he thought about Louis. He couldn't get the blue eyed boy off of his mind. Everything about him: the way he smelled, the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, the surprise on his face when Harry wrapped his fingers around his. Harry's heart fluttered at the mere thought of him.

Inside his head, though, Harry was scared. Louis hadn't confirmed that he wasn't straight, and Harry wondered if he was just acting this way out of pity. Or if this was all a game to him. Harry was deathly afraid that Louis didn't have the same feelings that he did. But he forced himself to push that from his mind. He was not going to let himself ruin this by overthinking it.

"Harry! Where the fuck are you?" Harry's mother's voice suddenly broke through. His heart stopped in his chest and he scrambled off of his bed and down the stairs. She wasn't supposed to be home until tomorrow morning.

"Mum," Harry said with a forced smile as he walked into the kitchen. "I thought you weren't going to be home until later tonight."

"Well, I'm home now," she snapped. A pit formed in his stomach as Harry realized how drunk she was. She stumbled into the living room, another beer and a dinner plate in her hand, and sank down onto the couch. "I was gonna have you make me dinner, but I found leftovers in the fridge."

"Do you want some water or something instead of that?" he asked gently, walking over to where she was sitting. She glared at him and opened the beer.

"I'm an adult, Harry, I can do what I want, especially in my own house," she sneered, taking a long drink of the beer.

"Alright," Harry replied carefully, backing away. He knew how she got after too many beers, and he didn't want to be around when she hit that point. "I'll just be in my room then."

Before she could reply, Harry whirled around and walked quickly to his room, closing the door behind him. He released the breath that he'd been holding and sank down on the bed. He wanted nothing more than to be with Louis. Louis made him forget all of the stress and nerves that appeared when other people were around. But he didn't want to bother him, especially not on a Sunday night.

After laying on his bed for a while and listening carefully for his mother to come up the stairs, Harry decided to man up and call Louis anyway. He reached for his phone on the nightstand and pressed on the correct contact, holding the phone tightly to his ears. His fingers fumbled with his lip, nerves rising inside of him with each unanswered ring.

"Harry?"

"Louis," Harry finally exhaled, relieved just to hear the other boy's voice.

"What's up?"

"It's kind of stupid," Harry admitted, already starting to regret bothering him. "I just wanted to talk, I guess."

"Is everything okay?" Louis asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

"My mum just got home and --" Harry hesitated for a moment, but decided that Louis was going to find out at some point. "She's really drunk. I just get really nervous when she's like this."