I Don't Love You (And I Always Will)

Chapter Thirty Two

Harry

Harry awoke from his couch nap to his doorbell ringing, a haunting tone echoing throughout the halls. He opened his eyes, heavy with sleep, sitting up slowly. As soon as he got home from rehearsal that afternoon, he crashed on his plush couch, planning on avoiding reality for as long as humanly possible. But alas, it was game night and reality was inevitable and unavoidable.

The doorbell rang three more times in quick succession, giving Harry the motivation to stand, his knees cracking with use. He ran his fingers through his sleep wild hair, making an attempt to look presentable. He opened the door to find Niall and Ed, standing with bottles of wine and bright smiles. Harry tried his best to reciprocate.

"Hey!" Harry greeted, motioning for the two men to come inside.

"Hiya, mate!" Niall cheered, shouldering past Harry without second thought. The blonde made his way to the kitchen, familiar with the floor plan after all the game nights hosted here.

"Hey, Harry." Ed said, a shadow of concern etched in his brows.

Harry had left him at the pub last night without much explanation, just that he needed to talk to Louis. He had never come back, eventually texting Ed that he didn't feel well, and decided to go home. That was partially true.

"Hi." Harry whispered, making his best attempt at a comforting smile, but it felt more like a grimace. "You ready for game night?"

"As ready as I'll ever be." Ed joked, taking Harry with an arm around his shoulders to the living room. Niall came back with three glasses of red wine, his lips already a deep shade of maroon. As the three men sipped, the doorbell kept ringing, and Niall was eager to answer. With every ring, Harry's shoulders tensed, dreading the entrance of one man. Every time, he was relieved to find he hadn't shown yet. They had managed to keep their distance during rehearsals, but they were able to keep busy.

Last night, Harry had stood in the Lincoln Center courtyard long after Louis had walked away. Part of it was because they lived the same direction, and he didn't want to follow Louis like a stalker. But it was primarily due to the fact he couldn't get his feet to move from their place. He was cemented to the ground next to the bench, winter wind whipping at his nose. Harry watched yellow taxis rush by, the city that never sleeps living up to its name.

Harry had stayed there for thirty minutes, as it turns out. He walked home with his head low, hands pushed deep into his wool coat pockets. How did he get here? How did he end up in the same place as a year ago, pacing empty sidewalks with a hole the size of a heart in his chest?

Harry felt like he had been broken up with. Which wasn't the case, since they were just friends messing around. Right? Then why did it feel like he lost something more?

Eventually, Harry had to face the music as the doorbell chimed for the last time that night. Niall skipped to the door, his chipper demeanor a sharp contrast to Harry's melancholy. Niall swung the door open to reveal the girls and Louis, standing behind them. The room went silent. Though Harry's view was obstructed, the sight was a punch to the gut.

Louis was heartbreakingly beautiful. He had bags under bloodshot eyes from a lack of sleep (Harry could relate), but the blue of his eyes still shined. His hair was messy from running his hands through it, but Harry saw a halo. He was dressed in simple track pants and a sweatshirt, but Louis was captivating. He was always captivating.

His eyes were cast low to the ground, even as he walked into the living room. He took the only free seat in the room, next to Gigi and El on the loveseat across the coffee table from Harry.