periphery - harry/louis, liam/louis - standalone [2/3]
Title: periphery
Pairings: Harry/Louis, Liam/Louis
Genre: AU, Angst, Paranormal
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Character death
Summary: After a car accident, Louis goes on pretending that nothing ever happened.
Louis shrugs off his jumper when he hears the door close behind him, the smell of nicotine coating every thread, and instead of holding his breath, he takes long, quick strides to the bathroom and dumps it in the washing machine, followed by his shirt and his pants, and when he closes the top, he lingers for a moment and goes back to what happened at Zayn’s flat.
Sometimes, Zayn likes to be cryptic. Louis just dismisses it as a quirk because Zayn’s a pretty quirky guy, having characteristics that may seem odd or out of place in regular situations, like his irrational fear of cracks in the sidewalk, and his tendency to say cryptic things is just another item to add on his list. It’s usually fun to try to figure out what he means, especially when his speech is slurred by alcohol and every word sounds like the one before it and pretty soon, he’s just saying gibberish until Louis decides to change the subject or sleep takes him out, but his talks of moving on and forgetting leaves a bitter taste on Louis’s tongue, like there’s something in his life that isn’t perfect enough that he needs another person to fill a void that isn’t even there in the first place.
He sighs and leaves the bathroom, feet taking him straight to his bed, and he peels off his socks and slides under the covers, feeling the soft fabric brush against his skin and he curls into himself, touching his lips with his knees, arms coiled around his legs, and he tries to make himself as compact as possible, a larva fashioning itself a cocoon made of cotton, because he doesn’t want to think about it anymore, wants the image of Zayn’s pleading eyes erased from his mind and all he wants to do is wake up in the morning good as new and go on like nothing happened.
He feels himself drifting off, his eyelids getting heavier, but before sleep takes him over, he feels a set of arms wrapping around his waist, pulling him close and holding him tight, and he hears the soft clinking of bracelets on his stomach before catching the familiar scent of cologne, and he doesn’t have to open his eyes and look behind him to know who it is.
“Zayn tried to shrink me, Harry,” Louis breathes into his knees, his hands coming up to grip Harry’s wrists.
“He doesn’t know anything.”
Louis smiles and presses himself closer to him. “He introduced me to this guy Liam. He’s really nice.”
“I’m all you need.”
Louis opens his mouth to reply but the words are caught in his throat and his heart starts to race, and his mind flashes to the image of Harry on a stretcher holding on to Louis’s hand as tight as he could, face marked by dried blood and cuts and ugly bruises, and Louis shuts his eyes and tries to push the memory away.
“I love you,” Louis whispers, squeezing Harry’s hands and pushing them against his chest, and he feels Harry’s breath brush against his ear and it sends a shiver down his spine.
He waits patiently, listening to his own breathing and the creaking of the bed when he shifts further into Harry, and Harry lies motionless behind him, his grip on Louis’s waist loosening, his body getting more distant with every beat of his heart. Louis notices this with alarm and he pulls on Harry’s arms and wraps them around his body tighter, as tight as he possibly can, not wanting to let go, not just yet, not until he hears him say it.
“Harry, I love you.”
Silence.
Louis can feel tears brimming around his eyes and he opens them slowly, expecting to trace the hairs on Harry’s arms, but they’re not there, gone without a trace, like they were never there in the first place, and Louis’s breath starts to shake, emptiness spreading in his stomach.
He sits up and looks around him, trying to find any sign that Harry’s only left for a few moments and he’ll be back in no time and they can sleep together again like they used to, limbs tangled up like vines and Harry singing in his ears to lull him to sleep and Louis swears he could still hear his voice loud and clear in his dreams, but the bedroom’s as empty as it was when he came in, and he rubs his eyes with the back of his hands and lies back down, watching the patterns on his ceiling until they dissolve into circles and lines, and before he can stop them, the tears begin to fall, and he pulls the covers close around him and cries himself to sleep.
-
It takes Louis and Zayn exactly two days to get back on speaking terms, Zayn calling him up nonstop to apologize and leaving identical voice messages when Louis decided to ignore his phone for a few hours, and he figures Zayn hadn’t meant any harm doing what he did, just wanted to get everything back to the way things were and Louis reckons he should appreciate his efforts, and before long, he finds himself standing in front of Zayn’s flat, knocking on the door three times and stepping back to wait for him to answer.
Zayn appears behind the door fully clothed, a rare occurrence, and his face lights up when his eyes land on Louis.
“Long time no see, Lou-Lou,” Zayn says, a smile slowly spreading on his face, and Louis chuckles. He’s always abhorred the nickname but it’s like Zayn refuses to call him by anything else, thinks Lou-Lou fits his personality perfectly and Louis has to wonder at this because the name makes him seem like he’s a fifty-year-old woman battling the early stages of menopause.
“You gonna let me in?”
Zayn grins and steps aside, gesturing dramatically to the hallway and Louis shakes his head with a smile, glad they can still settle disputes with good old-fashioned name-calling and strategically-timed insults. Louis makes his way down the hallway and hears the door close behind him, and before he reaches the living room, Zayn’s voice calls out loud as a car horn, “Guess who’s come to visit!”
Louis doesn’t know exactly who it is he’s talking to, but he doesn’t dwell on the question long because he sees the familiar brown hair of Liam sitting in the sofa, a glass held in his hand, and he feels his breath hitch and his face heat up, and he turns back to Zayn with a smile threatening to break out.
“What-”
“Liam here’s been wondering why you haven’t called him yet,” Zayn interrupts, pushing past Louis and sitting next to Liam. Liam scratches his head in embarrassment and elbows Zayn, and Louis can’t help but feel a smile break out when he makes his way to the reclining chair.
“I, er… Well, you see…” Louis starts, trying to grab words out of thin air because he’s completely forgotten about calling him, can’t even remember if he managed to save his number, and he doesn’t want to seem like he’s a snob and he’s not interested because he’s not and he’s really intrigued by Liam, had loads of fun talking to him about anything that popped in his head and Liam seemed like he always knew what to say, like he has a book on Louis and it’s as easy as flipping through the pages and finding the right chapter.
“I totally get it if you’re not interested,” Liam says all of a sudden and Louis pauses, taken aback by the statement. “I mean, I don’t want you to feel like you have to give me a chance just because I’m persistent or anything.”
Louis is at a loss for words and he looks at Zayn, smile still viper-like as ever, before turning back to Liam with an awkward smile.
“I don’t know how you can turn this down,” Zayn says, picking up a cigarette from the ashtray and pushing it between his lips. “Just look at him. Rejecting him’s like kicking a puppy in the face. Do you like kicking puppies in the face, Lou?”
“Of course I don’t, you bleeding lunatic,” Louis defends irritably, taking the pillow he’s sitting on and chucking it at Zayn. Zayn catches it with a laugh and hands it over to Liam, who looks at them with furrowed brows, unsure of what to do, before shrugging and settling on putting it on his lap.
“So you’re not rejecting him?” Zayn asks, having too much fun at Louis’s expense as always, and Louis sighs and closes his eyes for a moment, picturing himself strangling Zayn with a belt in the back of his head.
“Sorry I haven’t called,” Louis finally says, opening his eyes and turning his attention to Liam, and Liam’s face lights up at once, watching Louis earnestly. “I’ve just been busy with things lately and it’s slipped my mind is all.”
“That’s a relief,” Liam says, and he leans back in his seat with a smile. “I thought I really messed something up.”
“No, no, you were great,” Louis assures, leaning over and resting his elbows in his thighs. “I’m just-I’m really bad at these things and Zayn’s always trying to set me up and they usually don’t work out and-”
“No need to explain yourself,” Liam says, shaking his head and giving the pillow to Zayn. “I’m the exact same way.”
Louis feels his smile stretching into a grin and he flicks his eyes to Zayn, who gives him a nod of encouragement, and he turns back to Liam with a lightness in his chest.
“I guess we can take things slow,” he says.
Liam breaks out into a grin of his own.
“I’d love that.”
-
Louis stands in front of his closet and pushes through the racks, trying to find a shirt that isn’t striped because it’s his and Liam’s first official date and he wants to look his best.
A few days of meeting at Zayn’s house and talking over the phone finally gave Liam the courage to ask Louis out, and at first, it catches Louis off-guard because he wasn’t expecting it at all, didn’t think the day would come this fast, but he knows Liam well enough at this point, knows that he genuinely likes him and thinks he’s a great guy and something in his eyes tells Louis that he won’t be just another one of Zayn’s failed experiments, not like the ones who went and left before Harry came into the picture.
The thought of Harry makes Louis stop and he pulls his hand back and closes his eyes, trying to block out the faint smell of cologne spreading around the room. It fills his lungs like rushing water and he steels himself, tries to breathe normally, tries to calm his heart because it’s like Harry wants to take it with him, can feel Harry’s fingers wrapping around it like tightly-wound string and he doesn’t want him to have it, not just yet.
The sensation goes as quickly as it appears and he opens his eyes and looks at his clothes, wondering if it’s the right thing to do. But then he sees Liam’s face in the back of his mind and he thinks that maybe it is, that maybe Zayn’s right and he needs it after all.
He sighs and shuffles through the clothes again.
His hand pauses at a green-striped shirt, a thrift store find a few weeks back, and pulls it out, holding it against his body and looking down to see how it looks.
“You always looked best in blue.”
Louis looks up and smiles.
He hangs it back on the rack and grabs the blue flannel shirt Harry got him for their anniversary.
-
Louis doesn’t remember the last time he was taken out on a date, seems like a lifetime ago that he spent some time with Harry giggling like children in a restaurant or sharing popcorn in an empty movie theater watching some sappy romance film they never bothered to follow because all they wanted was to be alone, and Louis is surprised at how easily the laughs come when Liam says something, says a simple joke or a quip about the weather or how he looks great in his shirt and it’s not long until he finds himself blushing like a teenaged girl with her fingers around her hair, sipping milkshake through a bendy straw.
Liam’s laid back and knowledgeable about things that Louis hasn’t even considered thinking about in everyday situations, like telling him why ducks go south when they see a flock of them flying through the clouds out the restaurant window, and if it were anyone but him, he would have probably tuned out, started thinking about why he’s sat there talking about bloody ducks of all things, but Liam has a way with words and his voice is thick and smooth and it falls over Louis like honey and it’s hard to ignore it, hard to overlook the twinkle in his eyes like they’re telling him he’s having a great time, that he’s thankful Louis accepted his offer.
It was never a matter whether he would accept or not, Liam’s just that type of person you can’t turn down. He doesn’t know whether it’s his smile or the charming way he says his name, curling over his tongue, smooth as silk, and Louis wonders just what it is about Liam that makes him feel comfortable, comfortable enough to share with him what happened to the three of them the night of the accident without precedent, just slipping out of his mouth like it’s regular tableside conversation and Liam listens intently, eyes tracing out the words forming around his lips, absentmindedly stirring his soda with the straw.
“That’s terrible,” Liam says with a frown when Louis pauses, and Louis sinks back in his chair and picks at his fingernails next to his plate of half-eaten pasta, thinking about how the discussion suddenly took a detour from their hobbies to this. “And Harry, was he fine too?”
The name strikes up a match under his skin and he looks around the restaurant expecting to see him, scanning the faces of the patrons to see if he can spot his green eyes anywhere, and he feels his heart speed up and his throat constrict. He turns back to Liam for a second before focusing again on his hands, and he sighs before he continues.
“Harry had it the worst,” he starts, thinking hard on the words, and the image of Harry beaten up, nearly unconscious hangs in his mind like a broken projector screen playing the same scene over and over again, and he shakes his head and takes a sip of his drink to try to push it away. “The doctors said he suffered head trauma and a few broken ribs, and it surprised them that he managed to hold on long enough until we got to the hospital.”
“At least you made it just in time, yeah?” Liam says, leaning forward and flashing Louis a smile to make him feel better, and it works on the surface because Louis manages to smile back despite the hammering in his chest, the burning in his veins. He nods and shifts his gaze to Liam.
“We were all drunk that night, you see. Zayn wanted to try out this new club just outside of town because he slept with the DJ once, and we were more than eager to come along. Zayn knows all the best places.” Louis swallowed thickly and his mind relays back to that night, back through Harry’s smoky, laugh-filled blue Volvo he got for his sixteenth birthday, back when he failed to notice the car coming straight at them like a runaway train, a metal deathtrap without any intention of stopping.
“We had a few drinks and we partied until three, Zayn getting numbers from four different guys because he’s so persuasive and sexy and, let’s face it, he’s irresistible, and we only left because I told them I had to get up early for work, and Harry took us all home and we were still chugging down bottles in the backseat even though we knew we shouldn’t have, and I knew that it was a bad idea to let Harry drive from the get-go. I just didn’t do anything.”
“Surely, you don’t blame yourself,” Liam says and Louis almost nods his reply when he hears Harry’s voice behind him.
“It’s all your fault.”
He squeezes his eyes shut and he feels Harry’s hand gripping his shoulder, heavy and familiar but not warm, it was never warm, like ice-cold needles pushing through his skin, and he shakes at the touch, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up, bitterness filling his mouth, and he hears Liam’s voice cut through the laughter filling his ears, eerily distant but clear as bells.
He opens his eyes and Harry’s gone and he looks at Liam with wide eyes, fear etched in his pupils, and he pushes his chair back and gets to his feet, picking up the napkin that had fallen on the floor and dropping it on the table.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” Liam asks as he stands up, and Louis can only shake his head, the feeling of Harry’s hand lingering on his skin like a burn mark, like the stitches in the back of his head, and he grips the edge of the table takes a few deep breaths, trying to make his eyes focus. “Louis, look at me. What happened?”
“I’m sorry, I-I need to go,” Louis says, and before Liam can open his mouth to protest, Louis grabs his jumper from the back of his chair and turns to leave.
← part one ♕ part two ♕ part three →
Pairings: Harry/Louis, Liam/Louis
Genre: AU, Angst, Paranormal
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Character death
Summary: After a car accident, Louis goes on pretending that nothing ever happened.
Louis shrugs off his jumper when he hears the door close behind him, the smell of nicotine coating every thread, and instead of holding his breath, he takes long, quick strides to the bathroom and dumps it in the washing machine, followed by his shirt and his pants, and when he closes the top, he lingers for a moment and goes back to what happened at Zayn’s flat.
Sometimes, Zayn likes to be cryptic. Louis just dismisses it as a quirk because Zayn’s a pretty quirky guy, having characteristics that may seem odd or out of place in regular situations, like his irrational fear of cracks in the sidewalk, and his tendency to say cryptic things is just another item to add on his list. It’s usually fun to try to figure out what he means, especially when his speech is slurred by alcohol and every word sounds like the one before it and pretty soon, he’s just saying gibberish until Louis decides to change the subject or sleep takes him out, but his talks of moving on and forgetting leaves a bitter taste on Louis’s tongue, like there’s something in his life that isn’t perfect enough that he needs another person to fill a void that isn’t even there in the first place.
He sighs and leaves the bathroom, feet taking him straight to his bed, and he peels off his socks and slides under the covers, feeling the soft fabric brush against his skin and he curls into himself, touching his lips with his knees, arms coiled around his legs, and he tries to make himself as compact as possible, a larva fashioning itself a cocoon made of cotton, because he doesn’t want to think about it anymore, wants the image of Zayn’s pleading eyes erased from his mind and all he wants to do is wake up in the morning good as new and go on like nothing happened.
He feels himself drifting off, his eyelids getting heavier, but before sleep takes him over, he feels a set of arms wrapping around his waist, pulling him close and holding him tight, and he hears the soft clinking of bracelets on his stomach before catching the familiar scent of cologne, and he doesn’t have to open his eyes and look behind him to know who it is.
“Zayn tried to shrink me, Harry,” Louis breathes into his knees, his hands coming up to grip Harry’s wrists.
“He doesn’t know anything.”
Louis smiles and presses himself closer to him. “He introduced me to this guy Liam. He’s really nice.”
“I’m all you need.”
Louis opens his mouth to reply but the words are caught in his throat and his heart starts to race, and his mind flashes to the image of Harry on a stretcher holding on to Louis’s hand as tight as he could, face marked by dried blood and cuts and ugly bruises, and Louis shuts his eyes and tries to push the memory away.
“I love you,” Louis whispers, squeezing Harry’s hands and pushing them against his chest, and he feels Harry’s breath brush against his ear and it sends a shiver down his spine.
He waits patiently, listening to his own breathing and the creaking of the bed when he shifts further into Harry, and Harry lies motionless behind him, his grip on Louis’s waist loosening, his body getting more distant with every beat of his heart. Louis notices this with alarm and he pulls on Harry’s arms and wraps them around his body tighter, as tight as he possibly can, not wanting to let go, not just yet, not until he hears him say it.
“Harry, I love you.”
Silence.
Louis can feel tears brimming around his eyes and he opens them slowly, expecting to trace the hairs on Harry’s arms, but they’re not there, gone without a trace, like they were never there in the first place, and Louis’s breath starts to shake, emptiness spreading in his stomach.
He sits up and looks around him, trying to find any sign that Harry’s only left for a few moments and he’ll be back in no time and they can sleep together again like they used to, limbs tangled up like vines and Harry singing in his ears to lull him to sleep and Louis swears he could still hear his voice loud and clear in his dreams, but the bedroom’s as empty as it was when he came in, and he rubs his eyes with the back of his hands and lies back down, watching the patterns on his ceiling until they dissolve into circles and lines, and before he can stop them, the tears begin to fall, and he pulls the covers close around him and cries himself to sleep.
-
It takes Louis and Zayn exactly two days to get back on speaking terms, Zayn calling him up nonstop to apologize and leaving identical voice messages when Louis decided to ignore his phone for a few hours, and he figures Zayn hadn’t meant any harm doing what he did, just wanted to get everything back to the way things were and Louis reckons he should appreciate his efforts, and before long, he finds himself standing in front of Zayn’s flat, knocking on the door three times and stepping back to wait for him to answer.
Zayn appears behind the door fully clothed, a rare occurrence, and his face lights up when his eyes land on Louis.
“Long time no see, Lou-Lou,” Zayn says, a smile slowly spreading on his face, and Louis chuckles. He’s always abhorred the nickname but it’s like Zayn refuses to call him by anything else, thinks Lou-Lou fits his personality perfectly and Louis has to wonder at this because the name makes him seem like he’s a fifty-year-old woman battling the early stages of menopause.
“You gonna let me in?”
Zayn grins and steps aside, gesturing dramatically to the hallway and Louis shakes his head with a smile, glad they can still settle disputes with good old-fashioned name-calling and strategically-timed insults. Louis makes his way down the hallway and hears the door close behind him, and before he reaches the living room, Zayn’s voice calls out loud as a car horn, “Guess who’s come to visit!”
Louis doesn’t know exactly who it is he’s talking to, but he doesn’t dwell on the question long because he sees the familiar brown hair of Liam sitting in the sofa, a glass held in his hand, and he feels his breath hitch and his face heat up, and he turns back to Zayn with a smile threatening to break out.
“What-”
“Liam here’s been wondering why you haven’t called him yet,” Zayn interrupts, pushing past Louis and sitting next to Liam. Liam scratches his head in embarrassment and elbows Zayn, and Louis can’t help but feel a smile break out when he makes his way to the reclining chair.
“I, er… Well, you see…” Louis starts, trying to grab words out of thin air because he’s completely forgotten about calling him, can’t even remember if he managed to save his number, and he doesn’t want to seem like he’s a snob and he’s not interested because he’s not and he’s really intrigued by Liam, had loads of fun talking to him about anything that popped in his head and Liam seemed like he always knew what to say, like he has a book on Louis and it’s as easy as flipping through the pages and finding the right chapter.
“I totally get it if you’re not interested,” Liam says all of a sudden and Louis pauses, taken aback by the statement. “I mean, I don’t want you to feel like you have to give me a chance just because I’m persistent or anything.”
Louis is at a loss for words and he looks at Zayn, smile still viper-like as ever, before turning back to Liam with an awkward smile.
“I don’t know how you can turn this down,” Zayn says, picking up a cigarette from the ashtray and pushing it between his lips. “Just look at him. Rejecting him’s like kicking a puppy in the face. Do you like kicking puppies in the face, Lou?”
“Of course I don’t, you bleeding lunatic,” Louis defends irritably, taking the pillow he’s sitting on and chucking it at Zayn. Zayn catches it with a laugh and hands it over to Liam, who looks at them with furrowed brows, unsure of what to do, before shrugging and settling on putting it on his lap.
“So you’re not rejecting him?” Zayn asks, having too much fun at Louis’s expense as always, and Louis sighs and closes his eyes for a moment, picturing himself strangling Zayn with a belt in the back of his head.
“Sorry I haven’t called,” Louis finally says, opening his eyes and turning his attention to Liam, and Liam’s face lights up at once, watching Louis earnestly. “I’ve just been busy with things lately and it’s slipped my mind is all.”
“That’s a relief,” Liam says, and he leans back in his seat with a smile. “I thought I really messed something up.”
“No, no, you were great,” Louis assures, leaning over and resting his elbows in his thighs. “I’m just-I’m really bad at these things and Zayn’s always trying to set me up and they usually don’t work out and-”
“No need to explain yourself,” Liam says, shaking his head and giving the pillow to Zayn. “I’m the exact same way.”
Louis feels his smile stretching into a grin and he flicks his eyes to Zayn, who gives him a nod of encouragement, and he turns back to Liam with a lightness in his chest.
“I guess we can take things slow,” he says.
Liam breaks out into a grin of his own.
“I’d love that.”
-
Louis stands in front of his closet and pushes through the racks, trying to find a shirt that isn’t striped because it’s his and Liam’s first official date and he wants to look his best.
A few days of meeting at Zayn’s house and talking over the phone finally gave Liam the courage to ask Louis out, and at first, it catches Louis off-guard because he wasn’t expecting it at all, didn’t think the day would come this fast, but he knows Liam well enough at this point, knows that he genuinely likes him and thinks he’s a great guy and something in his eyes tells Louis that he won’t be just another one of Zayn’s failed experiments, not like the ones who went and left before Harry came into the picture.
The thought of Harry makes Louis stop and he pulls his hand back and closes his eyes, trying to block out the faint smell of cologne spreading around the room. It fills his lungs like rushing water and he steels himself, tries to breathe normally, tries to calm his heart because it’s like Harry wants to take it with him, can feel Harry’s fingers wrapping around it like tightly-wound string and he doesn’t want him to have it, not just yet.
The sensation goes as quickly as it appears and he opens his eyes and looks at his clothes, wondering if it’s the right thing to do. But then he sees Liam’s face in the back of his mind and he thinks that maybe it is, that maybe Zayn’s right and he needs it after all.
He sighs and shuffles through the clothes again.
His hand pauses at a green-striped shirt, a thrift store find a few weeks back, and pulls it out, holding it against his body and looking down to see how it looks.
“You always looked best in blue.”
Louis looks up and smiles.
He hangs it back on the rack and grabs the blue flannel shirt Harry got him for their anniversary.
-
Louis doesn’t remember the last time he was taken out on a date, seems like a lifetime ago that he spent some time with Harry giggling like children in a restaurant or sharing popcorn in an empty movie theater watching some sappy romance film they never bothered to follow because all they wanted was to be alone, and Louis is surprised at how easily the laughs come when Liam says something, says a simple joke or a quip about the weather or how he looks great in his shirt and it’s not long until he finds himself blushing like a teenaged girl with her fingers around her hair, sipping milkshake through a bendy straw.
Liam’s laid back and knowledgeable about things that Louis hasn’t even considered thinking about in everyday situations, like telling him why ducks go south when they see a flock of them flying through the clouds out the restaurant window, and if it were anyone but him, he would have probably tuned out, started thinking about why he’s sat there talking about bloody ducks of all things, but Liam has a way with words and his voice is thick and smooth and it falls over Louis like honey and it’s hard to ignore it, hard to overlook the twinkle in his eyes like they’re telling him he’s having a great time, that he’s thankful Louis accepted his offer.
It was never a matter whether he would accept or not, Liam’s just that type of person you can’t turn down. He doesn’t know whether it’s his smile or the charming way he says his name, curling over his tongue, smooth as silk, and Louis wonders just what it is about Liam that makes him feel comfortable, comfortable enough to share with him what happened to the three of them the night of the accident without precedent, just slipping out of his mouth like it’s regular tableside conversation and Liam listens intently, eyes tracing out the words forming around his lips, absentmindedly stirring his soda with the straw.
“That’s terrible,” Liam says with a frown when Louis pauses, and Louis sinks back in his chair and picks at his fingernails next to his plate of half-eaten pasta, thinking about how the discussion suddenly took a detour from their hobbies to this. “And Harry, was he fine too?”
The name strikes up a match under his skin and he looks around the restaurant expecting to see him, scanning the faces of the patrons to see if he can spot his green eyes anywhere, and he feels his heart speed up and his throat constrict. He turns back to Liam for a second before focusing again on his hands, and he sighs before he continues.
“Harry had it the worst,” he starts, thinking hard on the words, and the image of Harry beaten up, nearly unconscious hangs in his mind like a broken projector screen playing the same scene over and over again, and he shakes his head and takes a sip of his drink to try to push it away. “The doctors said he suffered head trauma and a few broken ribs, and it surprised them that he managed to hold on long enough until we got to the hospital.”
“At least you made it just in time, yeah?” Liam says, leaning forward and flashing Louis a smile to make him feel better, and it works on the surface because Louis manages to smile back despite the hammering in his chest, the burning in his veins. He nods and shifts his gaze to Liam.
“We were all drunk that night, you see. Zayn wanted to try out this new club just outside of town because he slept with the DJ once, and we were more than eager to come along. Zayn knows all the best places.” Louis swallowed thickly and his mind relays back to that night, back through Harry’s smoky, laugh-filled blue Volvo he got for his sixteenth birthday, back when he failed to notice the car coming straight at them like a runaway train, a metal deathtrap without any intention of stopping.
“We had a few drinks and we partied until three, Zayn getting numbers from four different guys because he’s so persuasive and sexy and, let’s face it, he’s irresistible, and we only left because I told them I had to get up early for work, and Harry took us all home and we were still chugging down bottles in the backseat even though we knew we shouldn’t have, and I knew that it was a bad idea to let Harry drive from the get-go. I just didn’t do anything.”
“Surely, you don’t blame yourself,” Liam says and Louis almost nods his reply when he hears Harry’s voice behind him.
“It’s all your fault.”
He squeezes his eyes shut and he feels Harry’s hand gripping his shoulder, heavy and familiar but not warm, it was never warm, like ice-cold needles pushing through his skin, and he shakes at the touch, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up, bitterness filling his mouth, and he hears Liam’s voice cut through the laughter filling his ears, eerily distant but clear as bells.
He opens his eyes and Harry’s gone and he looks at Liam with wide eyes, fear etched in his pupils, and he pushes his chair back and gets to his feet, picking up the napkin that had fallen on the floor and dropping it on the table.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” Liam asks as he stands up, and Louis can only shake his head, the feeling of Harry’s hand lingering on his skin like a burn mark, like the stitches in the back of his head, and he grips the edge of the table takes a few deep breaths, trying to make his eyes focus. “Louis, look at me. What happened?”
“I’m sorry, I-I need to go,” Louis says, and before Liam can open his mouth to protest, Louis grabs his jumper from the back of his chair and turns to leave.
← part one ♕ part two ♕ part three →