Harley

VI

All sins

tend to

be addictive,

and the

terminal point

of addiction

is damnation.

Harry sat on the couch staring at the TV, his eyes rimmed red from the blunt in his hand, and his hair pulled up into a messy bun. He wore giant sweater, and boxer briefs. Louis had been in his office all day, doing God knows what, but Harry felt as if the man was avoiding him. Harry sighed  flicking the ashes off the blunt, and took a slow drag holding the smoke in his chest for a minute before he exhaled. "Rosita," Harry called. The woman walked in drying her hands on her apron. "Can you make Louis some lunch? I'll take it up to him!" Harry grinned. The woman nodded scurrying back to the kitchen.

Harry carried the plate of food up to Louis' office, gently rapping on the door, and he waited for permission to enter. "Come in!"

Harry walked in with the plate out in front of him. "Thought you might want this," Harry mumbled setting the plate down, and he stood waiting for Louis to tell him what to do next. Louis only ignored him typing out, whatever he was typing out, and never did his eyes leave the bright screen. Harry silently nodded, and leaves making sure to shut the door behind him.

His heart sinked to the bottom of his belly, the acids melting it into nothing, and the familiar sting of a lover's burn scarring his flesh once again. He needed medicine, something to soothe the burn, and something to take the sting away from his body. He marched to their bedroom shutting the door behind him, his nerves jumping under his skin, and the sudden nag for Heroin in his throat. He took his stash bringing it to the bed, quickly he sets up his necessities, tied the rubber ribbon around his arm holding one end with his teeth, and he watched the needle prick his skin and slide in.

Unlike most other times Harry didn't feel sleepy, he felt better, and felt calmer. He felt like he could finally function. Like a caffeine addict getting their first cup of Coffee in the morning. He smiled and then put his stash away, and went back down the stairs and to the library to pick a book to read. If Louis wanted to ignore him, then Harry will ignore him too.

***

Louis hadn't done any work, he had only paced around his office a hundred times, and played a rowdy game of online poker. He currently stared at the screen of jibbish he typed on his word document to make sure it looked like he was busy, but his stomach whined and he glanced at the sandwich. "Fuck," He sighed. "What am I going to do?" He wondered out loud, not hungry enough to eat, and too much of a whimp to face his own boyfriend's addiction.

He leaned back in the chair, and then decided to quickly get rid of the sandwich, and go down to his gym instead. He was not one to particularly work out, but it was better to punch a punching bag rather than his boyfriend.

In the gym he worked out until he was light headed, and then walked back upstairs, sweat beads dripping down his forehead and off his nose, his whole body in a thin layer of sweat, and his shorts clanged to his body. "Rosita, can you make me something to eat?" Louis asked as he entered the kitchen only Harry's there, the first time they had seen each other properly, and Rosita cleared her throat.

"I was just about to make dinner," She said. Harry stared at Louis, admiring his sweat, glistened torso. Louis nodded as a thanks, and quickly went to leave.

"Puddin?" Harry tried.

"I have nothing to say to you," Louis snapped. He marched back to his office leaving a disappointed Harry. He felt like shit, he knew why Louis was mad, but he just wished the lad could accept how he feels. He didn't feel the pain of withdrawal, he didn't know how much it hurt him, or how it felt like he was literally dying.