Undone, Undress (Larry Stylinson)

thirty-nine

The next morning, Harry is still sleepy so Louis drives first.

He's full from a standard hotel breakfast, and hyped up on slightly watery coffee. Harry is curled up in the passenger's seat and every so often Louis steals glances at him because he looks really cute like this: relaxed, calm, and trusting enough to fall asleep as Louis drives.

"You feeling okay?" Louis wonders once Harry is semi-awake, a few hours later.

Harry rubs his eyes and nods. "I dunno, I just feel exhausted."

"Leftover stress from exams?"

"Maybe."

"Well it's over now; we're on break. It's okay to relax."

"I guess."

"Excited for the caves?"

When they get to Kentucky, they're staying overnight and the next morning they're going to drive out to a place called Mammoth Caves National Park, to hopefully do a tour of an underground cave system. It was Harry's idea and usually Louis isn't a fan of touristy activities like this, but it actually seems pretty cool.

"Yep," Harry sighs, rubbing at his face.

Louis allows a moment of contemplation, giving Harry the opportunity to speak. One of these days he'll trust Louis enough to be honest with him, but apparently today is not that day. Louis keeps his eyes trained on the road ahead. "Tell me what's wrong, H."

"I miss him."

"Who?"

"Roman."

The breath is knocked straight from Louis' lungs, and he fights to remain unaffected. "Oh. Do you want to talk about it?"

"Umm..."

"It's alright if you don't want to. But it might help if you say it out loud." If you say it out loud, I can hold some of your grief too. Let me make it less heavy. "What happened, H?"

Harry nods slowly and Louis thinks he isn't going to say anything at all but then he speaks. It sounds like he's forcing the words out but it's a start and Louis feels simple relief wash over him like ocean waves.

"He found someone else. And I know... I mean, I've always known I wasn't enough, but every time I'm reminded it just hurts like hell. I hate the idea of being obsessed with someone, it's so pathetic, especially because he's an awful person but I can't help it. I really love him, even still. I always will."

"Why do you love him, though? I mean, if you know he's awful," Louis whispers.

Harry shakes his head. "I just do."

If he said the truth, it would sound something like this:

His love is all I deserve, if I deserve love at all. I don't deserve to be loved by someone good.

Louis can hear it, though it isn't said aloud. He doesn't look at Harry again but he does take his hand off the wheel and wrap it around Harry's, squeezing tight. Both their hands are cold, but they warm up together.

There's a metaphor there. Something symbolic.