It's been about two weeks since Louis made Harry cry, and it's been eating him up inside since. His therapist and sponsor say the best thing for them is some time apart, so Louis has been trying to avoid the curly-haired man, yet unfortunately, both of them are way too in sync, which is what caused the awkward confrontation in the first place. Louis has decided to stay in their London home until things clear up, which will hopefully be soon, though he doesn't even know where to begin. He starts by unblocking Harry's number. It wasn't even his idea, to begin with, his mates have had to stop him from sending embarrassingly long, cheesy messages to Harry on one too many occasions, which is for the best since he knows how much Harry hates it when Louis uses endearments while he's upset. The hope was that when Louis wanted to contact Harry, he'd see the block and remember, and it worked, but it's been long enough. Louis watches Harry's phone number switch to the original name and photo Louis had for his contact information, smiling at the darling picture of Harry laughing all bright eyes and dimples. Suddenly a hoard of texts coming through one after the other, all from Harry... "I miss you," the first text reads, the other 9 messages being mostly incoherent, though heartbreaking from what Louis could translate. 'What have I done?' He thinks to himself as he rereads the texts, taking a breath, he calls Harry.
The call rings out, Louis sighing and hanging up, after listening to the entire voicemail to see if Harry finally changed it (he didn't). Snatching his pack and lighter, Louis wanders out to the balcony and plops down on an armchair, tenting his shirt to light a cigarette and taking a deep inhale. 'Maybe he was busy,' Louis thinks, deciding to try again in a few hours.
~
Harry has been cradling his phone ever since Louis first called, trying to build up the courage to call back. He had stared at his phone when it lit up with an incoming call from Louis, frozen with indecision until it finally stopped, and couldn't why he's so scared, it's like he's 16 again. Knowing Louis, if someone doesn't answer the first time, he will call again, so Harry has been waiting. He doesn't know if he will even answer when the inevitable call comes, he might freeze up again. Harry proves himself right, gasping when the phone screen lights up and he, in a panic, presses 'End.' Dropping the phone, Harry stands there, jaw dropped in disbelief, "God...dammit," He groans, falling face-first into the mattress. Harry lays there for a few minutes, trying not to cry when he feels his phone buzz against his thigh, blindly reaching for it and flinching when he reads the text from Louis.
22:34
baby please talk to me?
Harry practically throws his phone on the bed, overwhelmed by his conflicting emotions of longing, anger, and heartbreak. He speeds down the steps and to the kitchen, swinging the alcohol cabinet open and staring at the selection doubtfully, snatching the whiskey when his anger surpasses his trepidation and popping the top and gulping the bitter, spicy liquid, grimacing as he takes the bottle with him back to the bedroom.
A quarter of the bottle later, Harry is calling Louis, drunkenly deciding the best way to hear him out is while intoxicated. "You have reached the voicemail of: ' Tommo!' Please leave a message after the tone." Harry glares as he listens to the voicemail, blacking out as he hears the beep.
~
The morning after Harry is in his usual place, hunched over the toilet and crying. Getting drunk was a bad idea since he seems to have lost his self-control and had called Louis, leaving a nasty voicemail, and Louis is pissed. Harry woke to two missed calls and 12 texts from Louis, all in retaliation to what Harry must have said while black-out drunk. After explaining himself, Harry convinced Louis to video call at noon so they can talk, and as soon as they see each other's broken state, they both break down crying and apologizing.
Harry falls asleep that night with a smile on his face, and a ticket to London.
