Untouchable

Chapter 12

A/N

I've had this chapter mostly written for a while, I just needed some time to pass before I could post it.

Enjoy.

Love you!

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Louis's POV

I hated myself.

A lot.

In my defense though, I was trying to protect myself. I couldn't handle Harry being mean to me; I was unstable as it was. So I avoided him like the plague.

It wasn't necessarily avoiding, as I had to be with him too much for my liking, but I refused to be nice. I didn't give him the oppertunity to hurt me because I hurt him first.

It was funny, how he tried to get me to think that he was acting civil again. He was polite and nice to me but I knew better. He would hurt me in the end.

I had been so stupid to go to him for comfort. It had been out of habit, one that I needed to break. He didn't care about me. I needed to get it though my head.

"Hi," he greeted as I walked inside of the building that we were being interviewed inside.

I didn't acknowledge him, going to stand in the corner and pretend to text somebody. Who would I text, anyways? I didn't talk to anybody.

His presence was like cotton in my throat. I couldn't swallow, couldn't breath. He was the only one else in the room with me.

"Louis, I don't know what's going on, but-"

"Shut the fuck up. I've got a headache and I'm not in the mood for a deep conversation or whatever you had planned," I spat.

Harry blinked at me.

"Sorry," he mumbled, looking hurt.

Bullshit, he was hurt. He didn't care about me so why should he care about what I said?

"I'm sorry. I just don't know why you're acting like this towards me," he sighed.

"How is this any different than how you treat me?" I spat, "You have given me no reason to like you. I don't care what you're trying to make me think; you're a twat and I want nothing to do with you."

Harry groaned into his hands.

"Forget about it, Louis," he mumbled.

"Don't mind if I do," I snapped.

As everyone else filtered in over the next ten minutes, I noticed how sullen Harry was. He glared at the floor and answered people's greetings gruffly.

I wondered if he had gotten much sleep and if that was why he was so moody.

I hadn't, of course. I'd stayed up crying. I dropped a glass of water and cried for about four hours afterwards. I laid in bed and cried most of the day, save for when my angry side got the better of me. I no longer had a working television in my living room. I'd shoved it off the wall and hit it with the remote until both were broken because nothing good was showing at that particular moment.

Sometimes my mind would just go fuzzy and when it cleared, it would be hours later and I wouldn't have moved from the spot I had been in.

I was too tired to be scared.

I looked up when Harry shuffled over.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, "I really am."

I rolled my eyes.