Chapter 11

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A/N

A little short, so sorry!!

Love you!

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Harry's POV

I was laying in bed, not really doing anything, when somebody knocked at the door. We were at the last hotel of the trip before we could go home and everybody was exhausted. I figured that everyone else would be sleeping, but evidentially not.

I rolled out of bed and shuffled over open the door.

Louis was standing on the other side, looking increadibly small and fragile. He looked up at me, his eyes wide and wet.

I noticed that he smelled like alcohol and smoke but he didn't appear drunk.

"Can I...can you come cuddle with me?" he whispered, his arms hugging himself so tightly that I thought he might break.

I stared at him as his lip wobbled.

"Why?" I asked.

He'd been avoiding me like the bloody plague. I had no idea where this was coming from.

Louis shrugged, biting down on his lip.

"Will you? Please?" he asked.

I squeezed me eyes shut and leaned against the door frame. It was so enticing and he looked so sad.

I opened my eyes as he wrapped his arms around my waist and tucked his face in my chest.

"Yeah," I sighed, "Yeah, I'll come cuddle with you."

Louis led me to his room. Why we didn't stay in mine since it was right there, I didn't know. His hands shook as he opened the door.

He blinked owlishly at me as I went over to his bed. I noticed the clock had somehow gotten knocked off the nightstand, so I picked it up. Then I noticed that the wires had been ripped out. I was suddenly aware of the destruction in the room. Things were flung about and there was glass on the floor from a cup.

Louis looked near tears as he observed me so I set the ruined clock down and patted the bed.

"C'mon, Lou. Let's cuddle," I said.

He dashed to the bed and flung himself down, immediatly latching on to me.

"I dunno what's wrong with me, I'm so scared, please Harry, I need you, please don't leave, I'm sorry, please just don't hate me tonight, I'm sorry, not tonight, don't leave," he mumbled desperately into my neck.

I put my arm around him and pulled him as close as I physically could.

He was shaking. It wasn't like he was shivering because he was cold. It was full-bodied and continuous, almost like he was vibrating. His knuckles knocked against my chest as his quivering hands grasped my shirt.

I buried my nose in his hair. He smelled like sweat and bars and Louis. It wasn't a particularly good smell, but I wasn't going to let him go.

He was still slurring words, begging me not to leave, not to hate him. Judging by his speech, he definetely was drunk.

"Lou, c'mon, calm down, okay? Shh, it's okay, I'm not gonna leave," I said, "I'm right here. I'm not gonna leave unless you want me to."

Louis sniffled and pushed into me. We hadn't been so close in ages. Probably over a year. But it still felt familiar.

Once he seemed like he had calmed down a little bit, I sighed and moved away the tiniest amout. He whined pathetically and tried to shuffle closer.

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