When Louis wakes up for lecture the next morning, he’s got one notification on his phone. A missed call from Harry at 4:03 AM.
Which is unsettling for several different reasons because Louis texted Harry repeatedly last night and received zero responses. Not that he noticed too much, given that he spent the majority of it lying in Niall’s bed, ranting about love and awareness. Niall wanted to kill him.
“And just where do you think you’re going?” Louis nearly shrieked when Niall began rolling off the bed, Nike’s still on his feet from when he’d put them on earlier with the intention of going out.
Niall sighed, long and suffering, rubbing his hands over his face as Louis aggressively pulled him back down beside him.
“I want to go out.”
“I’m not finished.”
“You’re never going to be at this rate. It’s nearly three in the morning!”
“Exactly! It’s far too late to go out now! So just sit tight and let me express my feelings.”
“But you have so many fucking feelings,” Niall groaned, flopping over and shoving his face in the pillow. “You’re in love with the bloke—big fucking deal! We all saw it coming. Thought you two were already fucking, to be honest—ow!” Niall rubbed his arm, throwing a glare Louis’ way. Who was most certainly glaring back.
“Stop it.” Louis sighed, settling back down, eyes finding their way to the ceiling. “It’s difficult, you cold-hearted shrew. You wouldn’t understand. It’s fucking horrible, this. Being in love and all that? It’s like…it’s like this weird quiet thing. Like, it’s so strong but it’s so quiet at the same time. And I guess I always sorta knew how I felt so it’s not, like, been a complete shock to the system, but. I don’t know. I never, like, really let myself feel it. But now that I’ve admitted it to myself I can’t stop thinking about him, Niall. And I just want to hug him and talk to him and make sure everything’s okay and fix his problems and his—his father! How’s his father?”
Niall shrugged. “Still bad. They’ve cancelled a shit ton of TV performances because he’s not able to perform live. I think he’s just locked up in his house or something. Fuckin’ loon.”
Louis closed his eyes, feeling silent stabs within his heart. Because Harry. Des is locked up in Harry’s house. Locked in the cold, dark, ornate confines of that mansion Louis had visited so long ago…
“That stuff. That’s the stuff I want to know about. I worry so much, Niall, so much. More than I’d like to, if I’m being honest. But there’s nothing I can do! And, like, there’s also the issue of: do I say anything? Do I tell him I’m in love with him? Or will I scare him away? Because I think he might… I think he might like me. A little bit, at least.”
“Of course he likes you.”
“No, I mean really like me.” Louis bit his lip, still staring up at the cream colored ceiling, the way the shadows played upon the smooth surface. “The things he said to Charles this morning… I think he might care.”
“All right. So tell him you love him. You only live once.”
“Yeah, but—“
“Tell him.”
“Niall, I’m not sure—“
“Tell him.”
“Nia—“
“Tell him.”
“N—“
“Tell him.”
“Fucking stop it, you prick!” Louis glared, whacking him over the head. “It’s not that simple! I’m dealing with a timid squirrel here. I’ve got to approach him cautiously.”
