Read All About It

Chapter 9

It’s been almost a week since I cleaned the house, and in addition, read the letters…I guess the ‘cleaning the house’ part doesn’t serve any relevance, but it’s a major milestone that I am proud of, so It’s being duly noted.

It’s also been almost a week since I came home from talking to Mikey and found a yellow sheet of legal paper folded in half on my night stand. In the last week, I must have read that letter nearly a thousand times just trying to wrap my head around it.

The first time I read it, my chest physically hurt and I thought I might throw up. It pained me to read it because, aside from the elusive dried tear droplets smudging the blue lines, there were obvious amounts of emotion and his own pain put into this letter. He’s been struggling so much and I hadn’t even given it much thought…not in the way I should have been.

I can’t sleep most nights, though I know he can’t either. Though, for him, I don’t think it’s a case of can’t but more that he won’t. He’s been out so late every single night. He just doesn’t come home until the early hours of the morning. I wouldn’t even know that if it weren’t for this damn case of insomnia I have contracted from the letter that was actually meant to be seen by me. The simple lines of it plague my thoughts during all hours of the day, and I don’t sleep until I have virtually driven myself to the point of exhaustion from fretting so much.

Fall with me, fall with me, fall with me, fall with me, fall with me. It’s like a fucking merry-go-round in my head that I can’t get off of. It just keeps going around over and over again reminding me of how difficult these things that Harry’s feeling—that I am feeling too…possibly…maybe?—and how he can’t—we can’t?—cope with them properly until we address the situation ourselves first and then with each other. I still want to help him, but I can’t help until I solve my own problems first, and that won’t happen unless it’s accompanied by some serious forms of liquid encouragements…and maybe a pair of balls.

Paradise by Coldplay started playing from my phone and broke me out of my thoughts.

“Hello?” My voice cracked slightly from having not talked to anyone in several hours.

“Hey, it’s Liam. Is everything alright over there?” Here he goes playing his ‘mollycoddle’ card on us.

“Yeah, yeah it’s fine. Why do you ask?” I hated lying to Liam, but there are certain things that I can take care of on my own.

“Uhm, well because I currently have a completely wasted and passed out Harry on my couch…like this puts the phrase ‘shit-faced’ to shame. Now, he only drinks like this for two reasons. One, he’s buzzing over some crazy good news or two…”

I swallowed because I knew what was coming. I knew for a fact we hadn’t had anything worth seriously celebrating in weeks, especially not to the extent of his current alcohol level.

“…he’s trying to forget something. Seeing as how he walked in here at half four this morning and is still asleep at half three in the afternoon, combined with the fact that his sleep/passed out face looks more like a troubling grimace than anything, I am going to assume it was the second option that did him in. Now tell me, Louis, is everything alright over there?” Liam’s voice stayed level and even the entire time, but his paternal instincts were causing a slight waver of concern to plague his voice that wouldn’t have been noticed by someone who wasn’t basically a brother to him.

I let out a heavy sigh before I told him everything that had been going on…with a few voids here and there. I didn’t mention the part about what his letters had said and why the actual content has me more worried than the current state of our friendship. I didn’t mention anything about the letter on my nightstand either. Again, I want to tell Liam the truth, but I want to fight my battles on my own, no matter how difficult it will be.