What An Old Heart Wants (L.s)

Chapter 48 London Nights

***Trigger warning***
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Louis's Pov

I was so unbelievably pissed off yesterday and that anger has carried me through to today. I still shook, from disbelief, fear, anxiety and just all these thoughts and emotions that threatened to swallow me up. I don't think through the entire ride back to Harry's we had talked together as a band. Instead, we sat in silence till we all collapsed on the couches he had and we passed out while watching tv. Me and Harry were of course cuddled up together. The silence brought us together really and in due time, I was relaxed and sleepy.

However, when I woke up, I was stuck in my state of fear and anxiety. I stood, shirtless, in front of mirror, my hands shaking to hold onto the counter.

The thoughts of yesterday in Simon's office kept replaying in my head over and over again. Because I knew, I'm going to be fucked when Simon tells West. Of course, I'm safe for now till West comes to England. And well, that can happen tomorrow or in a couple weeks. I pray and pray for a couple weeks.

We were in the studio. Me and Harry had our dressing room; hence why I was alone in the bathroom. I didn't know what Harry was doing but I was starting to wish he was here. I was feeling overwhelmed with all my emotions and fear and I haven't been able to stop shaking. When he holds me, it stops. When I'm left cold, it all comes back again.

Harry just had that effect on me and it was growing intoxicating. I couldn't depend on him so much...sooner or later he was going to see how much of a burden I am; married or not.

Willing myself to keep calm, I fought the attack as much as I could before it could overwhelm my body. The only sound I could hear in the outside room of me and Harry's dressing room was silence and my own panting breaths. I needed much more air then I could drag in by my nose. It wasn't helping; nothing was helping. I was going to be on tv for the first time in over two months. After over two months of pure silence. This felt way more intense than my two years of pure silence and suffering.

I felt much more fearful.

"Fuck!" I cursed loudly, leaning over the counter, hoping to catch just one good breath of air. It was coming; the attack, the panic attack. The walls around me felt all too close. Too close, way too close. I never once thought of myself as a claustrophobic but the walls were caving around me, in my mind and in my surroundings. My throat was tightening up like a piece of rope was wrapping itself around my skin. Red, red thoughts filled my eyes and I shook not only from the panic within my heart but out of the rage that threatens me. That threatens to break my control.

I didn't want to feel this way; so weak. But it was getting so hard to breathe. I needed, needed, to fucking punch something. And something about my face, staring right back me, just made everything so much worse.

Your so fucking ugly...

The first red thought came and I felt something snap inside of me. One blink of an eye and all I saw was black and red, hearing the sound of glass shattering and then lava following pain shooting from my knuckles up my arm like a race car zooming on a road. A choked sob rippled out of my throat and a hard surface smacked my back. There was a tug to my hair and I knew it was my hand but I wasn't even mentally here anymore. I just let the panic take me under.

I could feel my ass hit the ground. My head banging on the wall, my lungs tightening and begging for sweet air. My vision going black and white, messy. My face wet, probably for I'm tears I couldn't tell. All I felt was my mind slipping away just as I was losing more and more air, losing myself again.