Saving Harry

Louis' POV

I drove home as fast as I could. I'm pretty sure I was breaking a few traffic laws, but I took the back roads so I could get there quicker and there wouldn't be any cops around.

I pulled up to the house and turned off the car, running up to the door and unlocked it. Thankfully, I got there in less than 10 minutes. Good timing. "HARRY!" I called, swinging the door open. No answer. The living room was pitch black, along with the kitchen. The house was silent, and it terrified me. I quickly ran up the steps, "Harry baby where are you?" I yelled once I reached the top. I heard muffled cries coming from the bedroom to the right, mine and Harry's bedroom. I jogged to the door and found our bedside light dimly showing a crying Harry, on my side of the bed looking at his phone.

He looked up at me with his red puffy eyes, and tears that were streaming down his face. "Harry." I simply said. I walked over to the bed and hugged my boyfriend. He buried his head in my neck, and clutched onto my, well his, blazer. I held him close and rubbed his back. "Baby what's wrong?" I questioned. It took him a moment to respond.

"They hate me." Harry sobbed.

"Who hates you?"

"T-The fans." He stuttered.

"Haz, why would they hate you? Everyone loves you." I tried to reason. Harry sniffled and loosened his grip on my shirt to wipe his tears, but kept his head down.

"All I wanted to do," he started, "was to change my profile picture on twitter. And now they all hate me... I didn't even mean to do anything." He started to cry again. I don't know what they was saying so I was curious. I grabbed his phone that was beside us and typed in his password to unlock his phone. It was already on twitter, so I scrolled through it and seen what they was saying...

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My eyes started to water. I held Harry tighter as I read some of the things that was being said about him, and it disgusted me. How could someone hate on Harry? I mean really. He's seriously one of the nicest people you will ever meet. I went to his profile page and seen the profile picture that everyone was talking about. It was the picture I took of him when we was out the other day. I sighed, set the phone down and looked at my boyfriend in my arms.

He was crying still and so broken. I pulled away from him and put my hands on his face, making him look at me. "Harry babe, those 'fans' aren't real fans. You're not horrible, and you're not a racist. You was just having fun. True fans wouldn't make you feel this way. I promise. I love you Haz." I kissed his tear stained cheeks, and looked at him again, staring into his eyes. "I'm going to fix this. I promise." I grabbed his phone again.