Remember (Larry Stylinson)

Chapter 23

Louis's POV

'I'm coming back -Louis x'

'Fine -Liam x'

I bit my lip as I read his text.

'Fine'.

That was all.

No threat, no lecture, no anything.

Just 'fine'.

I wondered if he was still mad at me.

Probably.

Liam only tended to get angry for very good reasons. So I was assuming that he was angry with me for a good reason, and that I probably had to fix that reason.

Parking, I suddenly felt nervous.

What if Harry wanted nothing to do with me? What if he wouldn't even listen to me?

Shit.

What the hell was I even going to say to him? I couldn't just not explain why I'd been acting the way I had. But I didn't know why!

Part of me did, though. Part of me knew the exact reason why.

But I refused to let myself believe it. So I'd tried pushing him away, just like I had when we first met.

I chuckled darkly.

Neither time had worked out.

That little part of me that knew the truth, the whole truth, was much too strong.

I took a deep breath and started to open the door, but stopped.

"-don't know what to do anymore! Just leave me alone!" Harry shouted on the other side.

Someone murmured something, and I think it was Liam, but I wasn't sure.

"Bullshit!" Harry snapped.

A few moments later, I heard a slamming door.

"Harry, I swear to god, if you do it again, I will get Becca over here!" Liam called.

Do what?

I opened the door, desperate to know what was wrong.

Liam swiveled around to look at me, his eyes immediately darkening. Zayn and Niall were exchanging uneasy glances.

"Fix this," he spat, pointing down the hallway to Harry's room.

He shoved past me and shut our door behind him without so much as a good bye. The other two shuffled awkwardly out behind him.

I gulped. I knew I had to talk to Harry. I had heard the sadness and hurt in his voice through the door when he was arguing with Liam.

I hesitated outside of his room, fist poised to knock. I listened carefully.

Nothing. It was silent. No deep, ragged sobs or angry shouts. Just complete quiet.

I knocked softly.

"Go away, Liam. I'm not doing anything," he growled.

"It's not Liam," I said quietly.

More silence.

Then by some miracle, the door opened.

I was met by a pair of emotionless green eyes.

Liam had been right. He looked exhausted, and as I glanced at his torso, he was thinner.

"What?" he asked.

There was no anger in his voice. It was the sort of calm indifference that someone might use when inquiring about the weather.