Wear it like a crown

Chap 5

V.

The day Harry checked his Twitter mentions was the day he washed up at Louis' flat. At seven in the morning.

When Louis opened the door, vision hazy with sleep, Harry brandished a paperbag like a peace offering. Blinking rapidly, Louis shook his head. The apparition persisted, so, yeah, all right. There was a prince on his doorstep. A prince with red eyes and a paper bag clutched to his chest.

Wait. What?

Some of Louis' sleepiness evaporated. "Harry?" he asked. The name came out softer than he'd intended. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm sorry I didn't... Zayn and Niall aren't in London, and I needed to—and Niall gave me your address, hope that's okay." Following the verbal equivalent of a nosedive, Harry tried for a smile that turned out wrong and twisted, close to a grimace. For someone who must have been trained to smile through anything, it was a remarkably poor performance.

Cold dread pooled in Louis' stomach. "Okay, what's wrong?"

"I just—that thing you said? About how it's not a flaw?" Harry lowered the bag, avoiding Louis' eyes. "Like, there are all these comments, on, like, online, and—I think I need to hear that right now?" He hiccuped, then his face crumpled and he burst into tears.

Oh God, oh God, oh shit.

Tugging Harry into the flat, Louis kicked the door shut and did his best to wrap himself all around Harry. His chest ached with the need for air, only there didn't seem to be enough in the room, not enough in the flat or in the world. All he could do was hold on until Harry sagged into him, making Louis stumble into the wall with their combined weight. Harry's cheek was damp where it rested against Louis' temple.

"You're all right," Louis whispered. What a lie. What a lie. "You will be. This is just a temporary glitch, okay?"

He wasn't sure he believed it himself, but the tension in Harry's muscles lessened, one arm coming up around Louis' back. Louis felt his own anxiety recede just a little.

"I just don't want them to hate me," Harry said. He sounded small and lost, and bloody hell, Louis wanted to punch everyone who'd dared hurt him. He could totally do it too, make Liam track down the people behind the comments and then travel the country on a quest for revenge, show up at people's doors with some choice words, an ugly grin and a wooden bat. Or maybe a fly swat, but it would get his message across.

It wouldn't accomplish anything. It wouldn't bring a genuine smile to Harry's face right this very moment.

"Babe." Quickly, Louis pushed past a flash of discomfort at letting that endearment slip. "People couldn't hate you if they tried. Trust me on that. I mean, I tried, and now look at me."

Harry gave a hoarse laugh that got stuck in his throat. "Maybe you just didn't try very hard."

"Excuse you, I presided over a Facebook group named 10 Things I Hate About Harry."

"Really?" Harry lifted his head to look at Louis, eyes wet, but brighter now, a very distant spark of amusement in them.

"No," Louis grumbled. "I am not obsessed, thank you very much." Liar, liar, pants on fire. Then again, was it a lie if teenage-Louis would have been much more likely to preside over a group named 10 Things I Want to Do to Harry's Body? Jesus, he'd been ridiculous, wrapped up in an illusion of his own construction. In a way, he'd been every bit as blind in his demonstrative dislike for Harry upon meeting him again. It hadn't been about Harry at all. How could it have been, when they'd been strangers to each other?