Frame of Hearts - l.s.

Chapter Fourty

He's so nervous he's shaking. His leg is bouncing up and down and he's chewing his nails in anticipation. Harry messaged him and he can't call Louis until he's at home. It's a fucking 30 minute drive and Louis is going to go crazy if he doesn't tell Harry about what happened last night. Not to bloody mention he's got a hangover bigger than life in his fucking head. Louis hates himself.

So his name finally appears with the stupid marimba ring tone exploding into his ears and he picks it up so quickly he almost loses grip of his phone and swings it across the room. He catches it and answers, pressing it so hard against his ear that it may go through his skull. He speaks after a shaky breath.

"Hi," Louis speaks out hurriedly, very breathless. He's probably been holding it for the past 8 hours, he thinks. "Hi, hi."

"You're eager, aren't you?" and it's a cheerful laugh at Harry which sends Louis to the pits of agony, because Harry shouldn't be laughing. Louis is about to let him down very, very slowly about how none of this was meant to happen. He shouldn't even be talking to Harry, but fuck, he is. He fucking had phone sex with him last night, and Harry sent him a picture of his abs with come on them and fuck, fuck, fuck Louis can't get the strength to delete the attachment from his inbox. 

It's so fucking hot, suddenly, and Louis opens the windows. It's only come out of winter so the room is almost instantaneous to fill up with frost and Louis begins shivering. But he can't close the windows. Everything is too hot. Hot. Harry's hot. Everything is fucking overloaded and overheating and Louis can't deal with anything. Fuck! Harry's fucking speaking to him and Louis isn't even listening to him.

"Babe," he calls, and Louis pulls a face of disgust at the nickname. "Hey, are you there?"

"Don't call me that, Harry," he hisses lightly. He can almost hear the confusion creep up on Harry's face.

"What do you mean?" Harry asks him. Louis really should have told him what this conversation was going to be about in the text message, and he really shouldn't have added five x's for positivity. Louis is just a fucking train wreck. "Lou, is it... is it something to do with last night? Because you were good. I liked it. I didn't find it awkward or anything--"

"Harry, I was drunk!" Louis snaps at him. Harry stays silent. "Last night was a mistake. I-I... I was really, really drunk. A mate of mine just... he made me drink this stupid alcohol that was in the cupboard for like ten years and I-- none of this was meant to happen, Harry. None. I accidentally called you at the wrong time."

Harry gulps, Louis can hear it. "What about all those things you said?"

Louis rolls his eyes. "I hardly remember anything--"

"You said you missed me," Harry says. "And that you wanted to kiss me, and... like do things to me--"

"I told you, I was drunk."

Harry groans lightly, with annoyance. "I know, Lou. But... you speak the truth when you're drunk. I-It meant a little bit? Didn't it?"

"I told you," Louis says bluntly, "no."

There's silence for a couple of seconds, and then a scowl. "You know, you didn't have to be a dick about things. You have some common sense when you're drunk, you don't just call me at one in the morning and start saying you wanted to suck me off."

"And what did I tell you, like fifty times even when I was drunk, Harry? I told you I was drunk. I was drunk, drunk, drunk. I didn't have a blue's clue what I was doing and I'm glad. I don't want to fucking know what I did."

"It isn't an excuse."

"You're right, it isn't an excuse, Harry, because I was actually drunk," Louis barks. "And what are you even trying to prove here? That I liked it? That maybe it means something? Because last time I knew Harry, this meant nothing and it continues to mean nothing."