What About Forever {l.s}

XIV

Harry's POV

   Zayn stays with me all night, listening to me blubber on and on about Louis. I'm of course glad Zayn is here for me (even though I know he would much rather be sleeping next to Madison right now) but I don't really want to be talking to him anyway- I want to be talking to Louis.
   I tell Zayn the whole story but he can't seem to get over the part about Louis lashing out at me and him getting physical. Maybe that's what I should be focused on too, but I'm too busy thinking about how much I would die to see his sunshine smile right about now.
   "No, you don't get it. I said something horrible to him. Anyone else in his place would have done the same thing." I defend.
   Zayn shakes his head.
   "Harry, you're beginning to sound like the victim in an abusive relationship. Do you hear yourself right now? He hurt you and you're covering for him like you deserved it. You didn't."
   "I don't want to talk about it anymore." I say because I know he's right but saying it aloud would make it real, and I'm not ready to face the fact that Louis could be dangerous.
   Is that how it all starts? One hit and one denial and you have an abusive relationship? I picture Louis' dad coming home from work all frustrated, Louis' mum tired from taking care of the kids. She says the wrong thing and her husband snaps at her, slapping her across the face. "He was in a bad mood, I should've known not to say anything." She tells herself. But it happens again the next day and the day after that until the hits turn into punches and then full on beatings. Then it escalates to him doing the same to his son and neglecting his daughters and they all appear perfect but they're all miserable yet can't live without eachother, and there you have this broken family that can't be fixed.
   Oh, how I wish Louis would call me right now. I tried calling him ten times until it no longer rang and went straight to voicemail. I assume he blocked me.
   I hope he's awake, thinking about me. But realistically, he's probably snoring by now.
    I somehow eventually fall asleep, but it's one of those light sleeps that you only experience when you've overexerted youself and your body forces itself to rest, even if it only lasts for two hours.

This isn't right. Where's mum? Why is she never here when it matters, when I really need her? 
Someone's coming, no. No. No. It's him. He's grabbing me. I'm scared and I want Mummy.
It's cold. So cold.
"Please, let go of me. Please!" I plead.
   "No, stop! Stop!"
    "Harry! Wake up."
   Someone's touching me.
   "Get off of me!" I yell.
   "Harry, snap out of it. It's me, look at me."
  Suddenly I can see again and things look right.
   Zayn's eyes beat down on me. He's probably wondering why I'm so fucked up and why he had to get me as a roomate.
   "S-sorry for waking you up." I breathe out slowly.
   "Maybe you should start seeing a therapist."  He says as he passes me a waterbottle.
   "I'm fine."
   "Yeah?" He lifts my arm that is covered in scars. I had forgotten about that. "This doesn't look fine." He says with a stern face.
   I pull my arm away and get out bed.
   "Don't worry about me. I'm gonna go for a jog. Clear my head." I say while searching around for a jacket.
   As I step outside the building , the chilly air reminds me that it's now October. Some of the trees have changed color and dead leaves cover the no-longer-green-grass.
   I used to love this time of year. My mum would make her special apple cider and several batches of warm, cinnamon treats, making the whole house smell wonderful. Louis and I would carve pumpkins, never failing to throw some of the guts at eachother in the process. My mum would complain about the mess we had made but then she'd help to scoop out all of the seeds to bake for a snack later.
   Louis and I would often go outside and have long chats while the cold air blew around us.
   Sometimes his dad would make him do the yard work but he didn't mind because I would come over and help him rake up the leaves, which always ended in him pushing me into a pile, causing us to have to start all over, which was fine too because anything was great when we were together...
    Thinking about the happy times hurts, more than it should. I discover if I jog fast enough, the sound of the air blowing through my ears is just loud enough to drown out any of my incoming thoughts and everything just goes numb. I like feeling numb for once.
   When I get back to the dorm, I'm panting. An hour has passed and Zayn is back in bed. As quietly as I can, I gather my textbooks and rush to take a shower and get dressed.
   I figure I'll be late to my first class, but I end up being ten minutes early instead. The rest of the day goes on like that, I'm early to everything, early to finish my assignments, stuck with all of this free time I don't want. Free time means time to think about Louis which is no longer something I enjoy.
   Waiting for pyschology class at 3pm feels like decades, but once I finally get there butterflies are having a ball in my stomach as I await Louis' arrival. I know he probably won't sit next to me, or talk to me, or even look at me. But all I need is to be able to talk to him. Or maybe just looking at him will be enough.
   People pile into the room and I realize I don't recognize a single one of them. I never bothered to meet anyone else in this class. Once I saw Louis was in here the first day, the rest of the world became a meaningless blur. That's kind of how it feels when you're in love; everything that once mattered to you is now just an unclear mess, and the only thing that means something is them.
   I wait, my eyes glued to the door willing for Louis to walk in. My leg anxiously starts shaking.
  Class starts and ends. Louis doesn't show up.
   I walk home with my head down, not wanting to face the world. But when I eventually look up, I spot someone I might be interested in talking to.
   I run to catch up with him.
   "Hey, Bradley!" I call.
   He stops and pauses before turning around.
   "Oh, hey! Harry... right?"  He says.
   "Yeah."
   I examine his features in hopes of learning more about Louis.
   I now understand why Louis has a thing for him. When I had first met him, it was at the frat party and I couldn't see very well, nor did I care too much about his appearance. But now I can see his eyes which are a piercing blue, lighter than Louis', his skin still perfectly tanned even with it being Autmn , his jawline looking like I could cut a nice piece of steak with it. He's gorgeous- not my type, but perhaps Louis'.
   "I um, I was just wondering if you've heard from Louis today. He wasn't in class so I just wanna make sure he's alright." I say.
   "I haven't talked to him in a few days actually. Sorry." His tone is nuetral but there is a hint of sadness.
   "Okay. Hey, listen, I know you think he stood you up the other day, but he really wanted to be there. It was my fault. He was with me, we got into an argument, and I held him up. I'm really sorry, just don't shut him out because of that one thing." I tell Brad.
   I figure if Louis won't talk to me, he needs to atleast have Brad to talk to.
   "Oh. That's good to know, thanks. I'll keep that in mind."
   I close off the conversation with a "it was nice talking to you", because that's what you're supposed to say when you talk to someone unexpectedly- even if you didn't enjoy talking to them.
   As I walk home, I try calling Louis again. I'm not surprised when it goes to voicemail and it doesn't stop me from calling twice more. Just incase.
  I arrive at my door but something stops me from walking in.  Sitting nicely and folded is the sweater. I pick it up carefully as if just blatantly grabbing it would cause the world to stop.
   I'm saddened entering the room, realizing Zayn isn't here. I knew he wouldn't be, he had mentioned something last night about having a busy day ahead of him. But I still held on to the hope that I wouldn't be coming home to an empty room. I really don't want to be alone, I don't trust myself.
   I sit down on a fluffy black chair on Zayn's side of the room placing the sweater in my lap.
   I lift the sweater, about to put it on, when something falls from it and lands on the floor-
   A letter.