In My Veins - Chapter 4
pairing: arry/Louis
rating: ature
summary: arry Styles is an arrogant pop star who has fallen into a black hole of drugs and self-loathing. Dr. Louis Tomlinson is hired to fix the unfixable; but not if Harry has any say in it. Coauthored wit onedirection5 she writes even numbered chapters, I write odd).
This chapter written by Shea.
“Louis, I’m hooooome!” Liam’s exclamation echoed throughout his and Louis’ surprisingly silent flat.
The sound of muffled sobs reached his ears and he quickly headed towards Louis’ room. Liam and Louis were best mates. They had met back in uni when Louis was working his way up to being Dr. Tomlinson, and they had shared a dorm together. They soon formed a “bromance,” as their mates had jokingly called it, and the two had been sharing their flat in London for about a year now. Liam was a caring and mature guy whom Louis could always count on as the “big brother” type, despite Louis having a slight age advantage on the younger lad.
Liam cautiously entered the door and looked at the sobbing mess curled up in the middle of the bed. For a moment, he admired the fact that Louis somehow managed to look so beautiful even while he was crying his eyes out and getting snot all over the duvet.
“Lou?” He cautiously began. “Everything alright, mate?”
Louis halted in the middle of his crying fit, and looked up at his best friend with tear-stained cheeks and misty eyes. “Lili?” He questioned.
“Yes, babe. I’m here. What’s the matter?”
“...Harry Styles...” were the two words uttered from the older lad’s mouth.
“Him again? What did that arse do to you?”
“...called me a fag...” Louis uttered the words so quietly, Liam had to strain his ears to hear. But he did. And he was pissed. Louis had always been insecure about his sexuality and no one, especially not some cocky teenage prick, was going to get away with hurting Liam’s best mate like that.
Louis didn’t deal well with name-calling. Especially not when it concerned his sexual orientation. Ever since he was in grade school, people had always teased him about his looks and his personality and his voice. It fucking hurt. The memories he had tried to push away for so long came bubbling to the surface with just one ignorant comment from a patient more screwed up than he was.
“Yo, Louis, you’re a fag, you know that? A freak and a fag, actually. You think you’re fooling anyone with those gay suspenders and that girly voice? For fuck’s sake, even your face looks super girly. Maybe we should call you Louise instead, huh? You’d like that wouldn’t you, faggot?”
The haunting comments from his childhood came flooding back to Louis as he recalled one of only many damaging and abusive encounters with fellow schoolmates, even with his own mates.
“Nah, Louis, I’m sorry, mate, but I can’t hang out today. Or sit at the lunch table today...or anymore at all, actually. Listen, bro, I’m sorry but I just can’t have people thinking that I’m...like you. I’ve put up with it long enough, but now the guys are starting to turn on me too. I’m not like you. I’m not a...fag. I’m sorry, Louise...Fuck...I mean...I gotta go. See you around.”
The worst memory came back to him with a haunting clarity, as he recalled the moment where he felt his lowest, where he felt completely abandoned, where he felt lost.
“What the fuck do you mean you’re gay, Louis? When the fuck did this happen? No son of mine is going to be a faggot. Get out of this house.”
That short conversation contained so much pain, as Louis remembered his mom’s silent tears, but also her refusal to argue her husband’s treatment of their son. That broke Louis. It was one thing to be completely rejected and alienated by your friends, but having your parents look at you with such disgust and resentment, that is what ultimately broke the lad. What ultimately led to Louis’ feeling of loss. Of emptiness.
After that moment, Louis swore to toughen up, to instead help others with their feelings, while also using it as a means of disguising his own. It was easier to talk about feelings when they weren’t your own and listening to the problems of others actually, as fucked up as it sounds, helped Louis resolve his. He comforted people, and it helped himself. He assured people, and it helped himself. He encouraged people, and it helped himself. Through his conversations with others who had similar issues to his, he grew more confident and secure in himself, through his discovery of others who shared similar, haunting pasts as his.
“Aww, Louis, I know how much it hurts you when people call you that, but Harry had no idea what he was saying, nor the effect it would have on you. He’s just a stupid teenager. Believe me, that boy has called people a lot worse names than that. Ask Sugarscape. They haven’t had the nerve to do another interview with him after the last incident where he had to be bodily ‘escorted’ from the room by two very large, very pissed, security members. Pretty sure Sugarscape still hasn’t published that interview...” Liam trailed off as he noticed that Louis’ tears were still silently streaking down his face, despite having calmed down from his fit.
“Lou, I know you haven’t the best memories dealing with being gay and all, but you gotta accept that not everyone is going to accept you. It’s okay to be scared of what you’re feeling, but you should never let people make you ashamed of it. Harry Styles, and those people from your past...they are the ones who should be ashamed.”
Louis looked up at Liam and the tears in his eyes slowly faded as his clear-blue gaze fixed itself on the especially attractive face of his best mate. And he felt relief. And acceptance. That was his favorite aspect about Liam. The boy always knew how to comfort him when he needed. Plus, he was good looking. Despite Liam’s unbelievably gorgeous looks and rock-hard abs, however, Louis had never harbored any romantic feelings towards Liam...even while knowing that his friend shared his taste in members of the same gender. Liam had always been comfortable with his sexuality, while being discrete. He never openly displayed affection for members of the same gender, and in fact, he had never been in love. He was discrete, just like Louis had trained himself to be. The two complemented each other, but there was never anything sexual between them.
“Thanks Li.” Louis sprang up from his position on the bed and grabbed his friend in a tight embrace. Liam blushed, having still not gotten used to Louis’ openly affectionate personality, and promptly stood up. “What do you say we go to Milkshake City, Dr. Tomlinson? I’m not ready to deal with another fiasco attempt at making dessert like last time...”
Louis smiled brightly, linked arms with his mate, and they left the flat.
*****
“My heart’s a stereo, it beats for you so listen close, hear my thoughts in every note...”
The soft, melodic voice of Niall floated throughout the complex, and all it did was piss Harry off. Why couldn’t he sing with such abandonment? Why couldn’t his words sound so angelic, rather than the screwed up mess he heard every time he attempted to sing in private? Why couldn’t he make music sound so easy and simple as Niall did? Harry’s jealousy soon faded into appreciation as he listened to Niall strum the last chords of the song on his guitar.
“Harry? What’s up, buddie? Ooh, someone looks upset. Who touched your hair?”
Harry lightly punched Niall in the shoulder, but he couldn’t hold back the chuckle that escaped his lips upon hearing his Irish friend’s attempt at a joke. This was the reason he loved the boy. He always knew how to cheer Harry up, with a lame joke or a stupid stunt. That was Niall. Always looking out for others. And putting up with the shit of others, Harry thought to himself as he admired the loyalty of his best mate. Niall had been paired up with the 19 year-old when Harry had been signed onto Syco after winning X Factor, and the two quickly became friends. Harry and Niall had been the most mischievous duo on and off stage, but lately, with Harry’s downward spiral, their friendship had become strained. Niall never gave up on Harry, even when Harry had given up on himself. He’s too good for me, Harry reflected and felt a moment of shame at himself for having put his best mate through all his shit. Despite it all, however, they still held onto their friendship and Niall continued to faithfully maintain his position as guitarist, as well as best...and only...friend, of Harry Styles.
“So...Harry...” Niall began tentatively.
“Spit it out, leprechaun,” Harry demanded teasingly.
“How have your...sessions...with Dr. Tomlinson...been going?”
“Right shit, they have. He kicked me out of his office yesterday, all cos’ i called him a fag. Touchy as hell.”
“Harry! You can’t call your therapist that! He’s your last chance, you bloody bastard! And of course he’s going to get upset about your calling him that! If I’m not mistaken, I remember a certain curly-haired singer who cried in the bathroom for three hours the first time he got hate messages calling him that exact name.”
Harry flinched at the unwanted mention of that scarring memory. The first of many scarring memories. He recalled. That day, he had been so hurt, thinking that people didn’t care to know him as a person, that they hated him and they didn’t need an excuse or reason for the hate. He’d always wanted to be one of those people that didn’t care what others thought about him. But you do, Harry. You give too much of a fuck about what others think about you. The drugs and women and alcohol are just a way to...avoid caring, He silently reminded himself.
“Yeah, well, tough for him. That guy grew up fast. He learned his lesson and fought hard so that others wouldn’t label him as anything that he didn’t want them to,” Harry shot back defensively.
“I miss him.” Was Niall’s sad response.
Me too, Harry thought. Me too.
“Are the sessions helping at all, Harry?” Niall prodded.
“No. Everything is a fucking waste of time. Louis is a fucking waste of time. The bastard thinks he knows all about me and that he can tell me what to do. He asks me all these pointless questions and sometimes we just sit there and don’t talk...for the whole two hours! I don’t know why he’s so damn famous. Maybe he fucks all his clients.”
“Sooooooo...is he hot?” Niall eagerly asked.
“Who?” Harry questioned.
“Dr. Tomlinson! Is he hot?” Niall smirked.
“Fuck you, Niall,” Harry hissed and quickly left the room, but not before Niall noticed the deep blush that colored the singer’s cheeks.