fighting love » l.s.

thirty one - sorry, mum

Twelve hours later, Louis still hadn't left Harry's house. Harry was starting to get anxious about his mother coming home and finding them together, but he was so caught up in Louis that he wasn't as worried as he would normally be.

The two boys were cuddled together on Harry's bed, legs tangled with legs and arms tangled with arms. They had been talking gradually throughout the day, trying to clear the air between them as much as possible after everything that had happened -- Eleanor, the boys, the party, and all of the other almost cinematic events that had taken place over the past few months.

"We have school tomorrow," Louis murmured absentmindedly, brushing Harry's curls from his forehead and tangling his hand in the younger boy's hair. "I should probably head home before my mum thinks I've been abducted."

"Stay one more night," Harry whined, nuzzling his head into Louis's neck and brushing his lips below the older boy's jaw.

"Baby, you know I want to, but that's probably the worst idea ever."

"The best idea, you mean," Harry retorted, his breath warm on Louis's skin.

"If I don't leave now, I'll never leave," Louis laughed.

"Exactly," Harry grinned, his arms squeezing Louis's torso tightly as the older boy burst into a fit of giggles.

Suddenly, a door slammed downstairs, stopping the boys' laughter immediately. Both boys froze, their wide eyes meeting to silently share their mutual shock, fear, and confusion.

"It's my mum," Harry whispered as Louis's grip on the younger boy's body tightened and his brow furrowed.

"Harry! Get your ass down here," a woman's voice yelled. A series of crashes followed her shout, the sounds of glass shattering and other objects clattering to the floor making Harry flinch and jump up from the bed.

"Is she drunk?" Louis asked, keeping his voice low. Harry nodded, trying to even his breathing before he had to face his mother in this state.

"Right now!" she screeched, sending a shudder through Harry's body again.

"Coming, Mum!" Harry called back, opening the door to his bedroom. He turned in the doorway, adding under his breath so that only Louis could hear, "Just stay here, alright? She won't come in here. Hell, she probably won't make it up the stairs." He forced a smile, unsuccessfully attempting to ease the worried look on Louis's face. "Just stay here. I'll be right back."

"Okay," Louis replied, uncertainty clearly lacing his voice.

Harry turned away from the older boy and latched the door quietly behind him, making his way down the stairs. As he turned into the kitchen, he quickly noted that his mother was the most drunk she'd been in months; in fact, the most drunk she'd been since she'd found out he was gay. As she tripped and stumbled around the kitchen, his heart rate skyrocketed in his chest. He took a deep breath before pasting on a fake smile.

"Hey, Mum, how was your trip?" he asked cheerfully, hoping to keep her distracted until she calmed down. He headed into the kitchen, opening up the fridge. "Do you want something to eat? Drink?"

"Don't pull that fake shit with me," she spat, pointing her finger at him accusingly across the kitchen counter. "I know everything, Harry."

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked, closing the fridge and turning to face her. His blood had run cold, sending shivers up his spine as he wondered what she could possibly be upset with him for.

Since his relationship with his mother had been ruined by his sexuality, Harry had done everything he could to be a model child. He kept his grades up, kept food on the table when she came home, and did his best to stay out of her way when she didn't want to see him but available in case she did want him around for some reason. What could she possibly be mad at him for?

"Don't play dumb, Harry. I work with one of your friends' mothers -- I didn't know you had friends, fag," she slurred, slamming her hand down forcefully on the counter.

Harry's heart jumped at the word -- she hadn't called him that in a long time. "Which friend?"

"Mrs. Horan. She told me all about how you've been flirting with some boy at school, you little slut. As if you thought I wouldn't find out! As if we didn't talk about this before you switched schools! Are you trying to ruin your own life, Harry? Do you want to switch schools again? Do you remember what happened at your last school?" she shouted.

Harry felt like the entire house was shaking, walls and ceiling spinning and closing in on him from all sides. "Yes, Mum, of course I do, but --"

"There are no 'buts,' Harry! All I do is work to support you, and all you do is whore yourself out? And even worse, to men?!" Her eyes widened, then narrowed as she stared at him. "Are you bringing them back to the house? In my house?!"

Harry immediately shook his head, his heartbeat pounding in his ears as the only thing left running through his mind was Louis, Louis, Louis.

She threw her hands up with exasperation, barely seeming to notice his response. "What do you expect me to do, Harry? What am I supposed to do with you?"

"Mum, I --"

"No, I don't want to hear it. Put the food away, clean the kitchen, and go to your room. I want you out of my sight as soon as possible. Right now."

Harry nodded, ducking his head as his mum stormed past him into the living room, muttering a quiet "sorry" to her as he tried to fight back the tears. He used to be numb, the thick skin he'd developed over the past year shielding him from his mother's hurtful words and actions, but Louis and his friends had helped him forget and open up a bit.

He thought that was a good thing, but now he wasn't so sure.