half truths ,, l.s

14

LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA. 23 SEPTEMBER 2019.

Telling the boys -- because Louis was right, they need to know -- is much easier than Harry thought it'd be. He expected them to be angry or sad or something, but both Niall and Liam are the peacekeepers of the band, so of course they aren't going to be anything but stoic.

Niall sucks in a sharp breath and looks away while Liam nods a few times and wipes his hands on his jeans. "Oh," Liam says, still nodding. "That's. . . oh. Okay. Thanks, um. Thanks for telling us, I guess."

Niall nods in agreement, but doesn't look to him.

And then it's just the four of them, all quiet and not looking at each other. This is awkward, and Harry hates it. If this exact conversation took place a few years okay, there would be tears and meltdowns and cursing, but now, they're all calloused and too good at hiding their emotions. After a heavy thirty seconds, Louis sighs loudly.

"Lads," he says sternly. "Please tell me that's not all you're going to say to him and that you're using this time to think up heartfelt messages that he's going to write down and hang up somewhere."

They look caught out, and Harry feels incredibly small. They don't care, he thinks. It terrifies him when he doesn't immediately tell himself that that can't be true. What if it is? What if him and Louis made themselves look like huge idiots by thinking this news was something worthy of an in-person meet up. He could've just sent them both a text. I've had an eating disorder for the last like seven years, I felt like you should know, see you whenever we accidentally bump into each other next x. That would've been less painful than this.

It was easier to tell them than it has been the few times he's told anyone else, but this. . . this is probably the hardest reaction he's had to deal with.

"It's fine, Lou," Harry murmurs, standing up. They're at Niall's, and Harry desperately wishes they just had everyone over at theirs. He wants to hide under his blankets, but all he has to escape to is a bathroom. He's not even sure what door it is anymore. "I'm gonna go to the bathroom. Second door on the left, right?" Harry asks, walking towards the hallway.

Niall sounds dazed when he corrects, "No, it's the third." That's all he says, though. Nobody, not even Louis, tells him to wait and sit back down.

He doesn't take long in the bathroom. If he did, Louis would come looking after him and he'd look weaker than he already does. God, Liam and Niall probably think he's an idiot.

A stupid, naive part of him thinks that when he gets back, Niall and Liam will come barreling towards him with hugs and apologies and kisses, but that's not what happens. He's not ashamed enough to not admit that it doesn't crush his heart, the way the two of them glance at him like he's a stranger instead of someone who's supposed to be their best mate.

"Can we go?" Harry asks Louis, his voice cracking terribly. It's so embarrassing that it makes tears jump to his eyes and fuck, he just wants to come home to his dogs and hide forever.

Liam looks guilty, while Niall has the audacity to say, "I thought we were going out for pints later."

It burns something awful in Harry's belly.

"Well, I'm sorry if I don't exactly feel up for that anymore," he snaps, tears leaking out of his eyes without permission. He wipes them away quickly, determined to hold onto this anger. "God, Niall. I just told you something I've been keeping from you the entire time I've known you, something that could have and still could very easily kill me, and you're -- you're worried about bloody pints?"

Niall's eyes widen, like he genuinely didn't realize that was going to hurt Harry. This all feels wrong, like they're having completely different conversations.