Pride {l.s.}

72- Strong

The Story So Far

Louis and Harry visited Louis's family for the first time in years. They got rose and dagger tattoos that night and slept in a motel room. They got in a fight when Harry admitted he was still depressed and Louis said it was a quick fix. It's Harry's birthday as Louis tries to fix the relationship before it breaks. 

I don't go to Harry's the day after the fight. I give him the time and space. I can't chase after him and just tell him I love him; love doesn't fix everything. Life isn't like it is in the movies. I can't burst into Harry's apartment, sing him a song I wrote, and have us just be okay. We have to reason and talk. I just think it's best to give him space. 

I do have a small text conversation with him. 

To: Harry

Nothing stupid tonight, love. I'm giving you space, but you promised me to never hurt yourself again.

A text came in only seconds later. 

From: Harry

Nothing stupid. I promise.

I was going to get him a more grand present, but Harry has never really been about large gestures. He prefers small things. I remember getting tickets to an indie concert in town that he wanted to see. At the end of the night, I asked him what his favorite part was, and I thought I was indicating which song they did best. That wasn't what Harry was thinking.

"Swaying to the music with you. Wrapping my arms around you from behind and swaying to the music with you. That was my favorite part of the night."

I have a restless night at Zayn's before I find myself back at the door to my home. That apartment is my home; that hasn't changed. The only change is if Harry wants me to come home. I knock on the door. I haven't done that forever. Harry always either leaves the door open or I just unlock it with my key, but I didn't want to intrude. There is no reply. When I try the knob, the door opens as expected. This kid needs to start locking the door. 

I can hear an album playing from the record player. It's the album I got him in January without an occasion when I was simply thinking about him. 

Harry isn't in the living room or kitchen. I step in, take my shoes off, and continue forward to find him. I notice the stack of pancakes on the counter. I touch them; they're cold. The griddle is still on the counter, so I suppose he made them earlier this morning. There are also two places set on the counter. Did he expect me to be home for breakfast? It's early afternoon now. 

I make my way to my next destination: our room. I stopped using my bed a long time ago. The only use of my room is the extra closet space. You won't believe how many patterned shirts Harry has. 

I open the door carefully. I see him immediately. He is laying on his side of the bed as if I am asleep next to him. I can see the shadows across his face from the light coming in through the blinds. The light doesn't faze his sleep. The comforter is pulled closely around him as if he is freezing cold. The thought of a cold bed reminds me of the motel room and the reason why I came. 

My eye catches the photo sitting on the nightstand before I crawl into my side of the bed. It's from Halloween; Zayn got a picture of both of us as cowboys. I look surprised and Harry looks silly with his tongue sticking out. It's one of my favorite pictures of us. 

His eyes flutter awake from the movement of the blanket as I crawl under. His eyes look tired and surprised. I lay down and look to him. My heart breaks a little seeing the pure exhaustion in his eyes. He's obviously been sleeping for a long time and is still feeling tired. How did I not notice he was still depressed?