Make A Wish •larry stylinson•

XI• Phone Calls & Drunken Texts

Made some changes with chapters- roman numerals and some titles were changed d; Idk, I just felt like it.

Update from my iPod so excuse typos & lack of bold/ italics.

It's also really lazily done. But shits about to get juicy so I will make up for this crap chapter, promise x

I'm gonna start dedicating chapters to random people whose comments make me smile lol k.

Enjoy!xx

"Hello?"

Harry's voice came out raspy and unrecognizible through the speakers of the phone, and Zayn frowned before responding.

"Harry?"

"Yes?" Harry responded.

"Oh, erm... It's me, Zayn."

"Hey, Zayn."

Zayn frowned even deeper, taking notice of Harry's tone and the way he sounded as though he'd been crying. He opened his mouth to question but he was interjected by the boy.

"What do you need?"

"Oh, I just wanted to call and tell you I'm back in London!" The smile could be heard in his voice, but Harry ignored it.

"That's cool," Harry breathed, followed by a puzzled silence from Zayn. Last he checked in with Louis, he said Harry was doing far better, but he was lacking signs of that at the moment.

"Are you okay, mate?"

"Nope," Harry admitted blankly. Zayn was taken aback by the words, by his tone. He sounded... Empty, almost.

"Do you wanna talk?" He asked, running his hands through his hair. He'd just had a long drive, and he hoped to be greeted by smiling faces. He felt guilty thinking it, but sometimes he wished everyone would lighten up. Even louis wasn't his excited self anymore, he was so spent and tired. Zayn was desperately awaiting Niall's return from Dublin, because with him came a high level of laughter and Irish charm.

"No," Harry mumbled, and Zayn sighed loudly, agitation tingling in him. "Hey, Zayn?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you take me out? To a pub maybe?"

Zayn hesitated before answering- he'd just gotten home, and going out and getting drunk caused unnecessary attention from the pap. But, he did feel as though his job as Harry's mate was to fix him up and make him feel better.

"Well... I mean... Sure, Haz. I'll pick you up around 9, okay?"

"Okay, Zayn."

-----

Louis stared at his phone in horror.

He didn't just type that. He didn't just send it.

But he did, and he couldn't convince himself otherwise.

"No..." He mumbled, rubbing his eyes. How much had he had to drink? What had possessed him to send that text?

Looking down he read over again to see if he'd been imagining things.

"We're breaking up. Don't text or call me I don't wanna talk.

He'd sent that to Eleanor. As in, Eleanor Calder the love of his life. Or so he had thought.

Really though who did he love? If he loved Eleanor he wouldn't have kissed Harry. If he loved Harry he wouldn't have said such hurtful things.

He was just confused. Why couldn't everyone just understand that?