Louis' POV:
It meant nothing. Duh. I mean, he hates my guts, so of course it meant nothing. It's 2 am. Two in the freaking morning, and I still can't sleep. I've just been laying here, on my bed, surrounded by misery and nerves. All I can think about is Harry staring deep into my soul, high off of his mind, acting the softest I've ever seen him. My mind is spiraling and I can't help it.
Suddenly a sound jerks me away from my thoughts. I sit up straight, hearing a door shut, followed by footsteps walking in the opposite direction of my door.
I think of two things right away. One. It's Harry out there, being he's the only other person on this end of the hall. Two. I definitely shouldn't go after him to make sure he's okay. That would be such a stupid idea, and ultimately lead to my demise.
I last 30 seconds.
It's not like I have a crush on him. I'm just so curious about him. He's the most confusing person I've ever met. Sometimes I just want to dive right in, ask him questions, figure out the things that I don't understand about him, but he hates me and I hate him, so that's out of the question.
Before I know it my feet are touching the hardwood floors, and my hand is pulling my door open. I'm not sure what I'm expecting from this. All I can think about is one hopeful thought.
I hope he doesn't punch me in the freaking teeth.
You never know with Harry. What I did earlier, taking care of him and all that, well, he might not have wanted me to do that. Especially with his "we are not friends" speech he gave me earlier. The one where he went from angry to scared in a matter of seconds.
Look. I've known Harry for a long time. We kind of sort of used to be friends. Sort of.
We were around each other a lot growing up because our fathers used to work together a ton. Since we were the only two boys our age, it made sense. But as we got older, feelings changed, hatred grew, and we drifted apart
Now, whenever I stare at him, I hope that lasers come out of my eyes and melt his face off.
But not a few hours ago. A few hours ago, it was different. Familiar, but so different. I'm not going to ask him what it means, I'm just going to see what happens. So now, I'm walking over my threshold, following the boy that I hate, who hates me, and everything is super fantastically perfect.
That was a load of sarcasm.
I close my door behind me kind of loudly so Harry knows I'm behind him, and he freezes. He has a robe covering his pajamas, slippers tight on his feet. His hair is a complete mess, but not in a bad way. He's hunched over a little, like there is a weight on his shoulders that he can just barely carry. I hear him sniff before he turns around and well, it's not what I expected.
He's crying.
Or at least he was. His eyes are red and puffy, but not because of any substances. His cheeks are flushed and tear stained, his lips a little swollen. He runs a hand through his hair before turning back around, and I find my feet following after him, even though what I just witnessed should be considered as a big warning sign to give him space. But when have I ever listened to warning signs?
I quicken my pace to catch up to him, two feet of space between us. We're practically walking on different sides of the hall. I don't really say anything. I wait for him to speak, but it feels like an eternity before he actually does, and again, it's not really what I was expecting.
"Just getting some water." he says when we stop by the kitchen. I follow him in, heading straight to the fridge. While he gets some water, I take out a box of glazed doughnuts that Margaret had made yesterday, causing the entire castle to smell like sugar.
