Chapter 13

                                    

                                          
Louis bows his head in shame as he looks at the empty bottle of alcohol sitting on the floor next to him. He takes one last sip of the vodka that's in his hand before setting it down next to the other. He's not quite sure why he turned to alcohol this afternoon, but Harry has been working overtime at work and being alone never ends well. 
                          
"Louis? Love, what's wrong?" Harry's warm voice echoes down the hall and his footsteps soon follow. Most of the lights are off in the flat, giving Harry a clear signal that something is bothering the delicate boy. 
                          
"No, keep it off." Louis protests when Harry goes to turn the light on. He observes Louis' broken appearance, sitting on the floor with his head held in his hands. A worried frown emerges onto Harry's face as he carefully sets his journal and other papers from work down onto the bed. 
                          
"Are you drunk?" Harry wonders in a soft tone while sitting down next to Louis on the hard floor. 
                          
Louis shrugs. "Could be." 
                          
"Is everything alright?" Harry asks, knowing that Louis must have a lot on his mind. He rarely drinks to the point of impairement and he only does so when he wishes to numb everything going on around him. 
                          
"I'm great, Harry." What is meant to be a cheerful grin of sincerity shows on the outside as the exact opposite. The false facade Louis has been striving to attain practically crumbles beneath Harry's gaze when Louis' eyes start to water. His overly fake smile washes away as quickly as it came. Harry takes a small breath and closes his eyes while Louis shakes his head before burying his face into Harry's chest. 
                          
The room is still as Harry rubs soothing patterns onto Louis' back through the fabric of his hoodie. He remains quiet while Louis cries softly into his t-shirt and Harry waits until he has calmed down a bit until asking more questions. He hates seeing Louis like this, in so much pain. "I'm just-" 
                          
Harry furrows his eyebrows at the sound of his boyfriend's muffled voice. The words catch him off guard and he prays that he heard Louis wrong. "What was that, love?" 
                          
"I'm tired of feeling like this." Louis states with honesty. He's tired of constantly hiding how he feels and trying to make sure Harry won't be upset with him. He's tired of always trying to be happy when he's not. He's just tired of everything at this point and Louis doesn't care what happens next. "I'm such a pathetic excuse for a boyfriend. Look at me! While you're out working all day I'm sitting here, drinking myself out of despair." 
                          
Harry cringes at Louis' sudden shift in mood, not liking the way he dryly laughs about himself. He pulls the drunken boy closer to his body in an attempt to soften the harsh blow that Louis' words cause the both of them as he keeps mumbling, "I don't belong with you. I don't deserve any thing that you give me." 
                          
"Don't say things like that. You know that I love you just the way you are." 
                          
Louis scoffs. "Do you, though? I'm a self-centered idiot who doesn't have a job, lives off his boyfriend's paychecks, and finds peace in hurting himself. You don't love me, Harry." 
                          
Harry is stunned into silence when the brutality of Louis' words hit him in the face. He recognizes one prominent feeling in the pit of his stomach that isn't pity, sadness, or even nerves. This is the same feeling he had the first day of high school. It's also the same feeling that consumed him the day he finally came out to his parents. There were only a few times in Harry's life when he truly experienced how this emotion felt and now he's encountering it more than ever... Fear. 
                          
The complexity of Louis' problems never proved to be a challenge until now. For the first time, Harry is realizing that Louis may be battling something that's bigger than either of them can fight. The fact that he may not be enough to help Louis is utterly terrifying. 
                          
"Lou, of course I love you." Harry assures and engulfs Louis into a hug. He's not sure if he can get any closer to Louis than this, but right now all he wants to do is hold his discouraged boy and tell him everything will be alright. "You're not self-centered and I don't care if you have a job or not. You're struggling and I'm going to be here to help you every step of the way." Harry presses a light kiss to Louis' tear stained cheek. 
                          
"I'm sorry." He whispers delicately and Harry swears he can feel a part of his heart breaking. With a shake of his head he replies, 
                          
"Don't be." 
                          
-
                          
Harry stares down at the piece of paper in his hand that has almost become foreign, the origin and memory of it slowly fading away. He lets out a sigh of vanquish, taking one last sip of the now empty bottle of liquor that has contaminated his thoughts. 
                          
"You gonna open it, mate?" Niall asks in a timid voice as he wanders into the kitchen. It's late and he just arrived home a little while ago, Harry had been sitting in the dark at the table for hours- just thinking. 
                          
"I don't think so." Harry shakes his head, his reply soft. He watches carefully while the older boy takes a seat across from him and slides the empty bottle out of the way. 
                          
"Why not?" Niall dares to wonder, the touchiness of the subject visible as Harry nearly winces at the question. Times like these are when Niall knows Harry is in the most pain because instead of getting angry or trying to build a wall between everyone around him and his feelings; the wall simply does not exist. 
                          
Harry bites his lip and stares at the wooden table. "I-um-" 
                          
"It's alright, we don't have to talk about it." 
                          
"I don't know." Harry groans, resting his head in his hands. "One day I want to open it and then the next I don't."He looks up at Niall who stays silent, trying to think of something to say. Harry hates these constant mixed feelings effecting everything he tries to do and it's not a result of the alcohol he's found comfort in. He knows that the way he's been living isn't normal and is a hazard to his health, but Harry doesn't have the will-power to seek professional help nor does he want it. 
                          
When no further words are exchanged, he proceeds to ramble.
                          
"I just don't think I can bring myself to read whatever words he wrote in here, Niall." The statement leaves his mouth hardly above a whisper and soon tears are pooling into his weary, dim green eyes. Niall frowns with sympathy. 
                          
"Harry mate," He begins lowly, looking into his friend's eyes with nothing but concern and understanding. "You don't have to read it. We can put it back where you found it and someday if you feel that your ready, really ready, you can open it. Yeah? Besides, you've had a bit to drink tonight and you don't want to read whatever he has to say when you're not one-hundred percent focused. When you change your mind, I'll be here for you alright? Maybe now just isn't the right time..."
                          
"Ha," Harry laughs impassively, "I've been saying that for the last six months. When will it be the right time, then? " Guilt sinks down into his stomach once he realizes how harsh he's being on Niall. It amazes him how the lad is still living here and putting up with all of the crap that Harry deals him, because he sure wouldn't stand for it if the roles were reversed. 
                          
"Sorry." He mutters under his breath before pushing his chair back and exiting the room. In a fast pace he quickly enters the bathroom and shuts the door behind him, wanting nothing more than to be alone. He glares at the person in the mirror that's staring back at him with tired eyes. A year ago, he would have never recognized this stranger standing in his place who stole the light out of an untroubled, optimistic, 19 year old boy and replaced it with a relentless tunnel of darkness. In the midst of losing the things that mean the most to him, he also lost someone that he thought he'd never have to worry about losing...
                          
Himself.