Migraine [louis-centric]

chapter 42

Third Person POV

The keys clank slightly as Louis pushes the door open.

The stench of old books and dead flowers greet them. While it isn't exactly a rancid smell, it isn't too pleasant either; it's an overwhelming smell, rather.

Dull, grey-blue eyes look around the living room, papers and documents scattered around the floor, cushions tossed around and the static from the television act as the background noise.

It's familiar to Louis, the way the dark house casts shadows that seem to haunt him everywhere he goes and the chill he feels blooming at the pit of chest whenever he's locked up in his bathroom with a blade pressed against his wrist. It used to be his home once, a place he could come for comfort; a sanctuary of sorts. Until somewhere along the way, he lost it too, just like the other important things in life.

The world around him moved on and he just couldn't keep up, being dragged along helplessly.

Currently, he feels weighed down, almost as though he carries the weight of the world on his shoulders and a soft sigh escapes his mouth.Of course, Harry notices. He notices the way his eyes look around the room with a faraway gaze, he notices the way Louis' small body goes rigid and his fist tightens until his knuckles are almost as white as his sheets as he looks around the room. He notices the small sigh that slips out of his mouth, the disappointment and sadness oozing out of it. He notices a lot of things but doesn't seem to do much about it.

The house was the same as Louis left it, three weeks back. When Niall told the alphas about his status, when he barged into his house, when they took him with them, when he still had some hope left.

As if a switch flipped in his brain, Louis broke out of his trance and made his way around the room. Harry followed him timidly, still clutching the duffel bag which held all of Louis' clothes.Although Harry had been to Louis' this house a few times before, he had never really looked around properly, observing the details. He had never noticed the bookshelves filled with books, he had never heard of, which seemed to run on for miles. Or the fact that most of his furniture was IKEA bought, cheap and simple. Not what was normally expected out of a celebrity's house. There was unexpected nothing fancy, at least not in plain sight, not even a fancy painting or display. It could pass off as a house of a middle-class family with an only child and two working parents. Empty during the days and only a vessel to provide shelter during the night. Empty and bland otherwise.

His house had everything Louis might have needed yet it seemed lacked something. Warmth. Instead of having the usual warmth and peace of a home, it bore an uneasy chill. The kind which made one feel their bones were freezing. The intensity was enough to make even Harry uncomfortable, even though he had only been there for a few minutes.

Louis stopped in the middle of the living room, turning to look at Harry. The room was quite dark due to the drawn curtains, adding a sense of eerie to the house. Only Harry's green eyes were visible through the shadow cast over Harry's face.

"So..um, as I warned you, my house is a mess."

Harry shrugged slightly, unable to think of an appropriate response."Well, I could show you the guest room and you could freshen up while I clean...this."It seemed more like a question than a statement, almost as though Louis was uncertain of himself. It scared Harry, the Louis he knew had a strong head, always knowing what he wanted. But then again, how much did he really know about Louis after all?

"No...It's okay. I'll help you."
"It's okay. You don't need to, you must be tired."
"I'm fine Louis, I want to help."
"But-"
"Louis, I'm fine. You're giving me a place to stay, this is the least I can do. How about this- you go and freshen up and I'll clear this area up? After all, you were the one who was bedridden for so many days. If you suddenly work so much, your body won't be able to handle it."

When Louis let out a sigh of defeat, grabbing his duffle from Harry's hand and made his way to a room at the end of the corridor; Harry thanked his lucky stars for giving him the gift to make his words sound convincing and also that Louis' exhaustion had gotten the best of him.Just as Louis disappeared from his vision, Harry picked up the first sheet of paper from right next to his foot, laying on the rug. It seemed like a page torn from a notebook, a cursive handwriting scribbled something on it in black ink.

"It is a sick feeling. Depression.

It's like drowning-suffocating almost- while being able to walk around freely. It's like free-falling in an endless abyss of darkness, no beginning or ending visible, just stuck floating in the void. Days pass without a purpose-nights float by dreamlessly. It's aimless, getting up every morning, only to be enveloped by a crushing sense of numbness. The sadness gets harder to hide behind the mask I wear for a face, eyelids get heavier and every muscle in the body suddenly weighs too much.And the worse part is no one seems to understand. Lazy, they call me. Procrastination, they call it. When I try to explain; they say they understand, they promise help but it never comes. Like a ship that never left the port. They romanticise it, but not once do they understand what it feels like.It's like being at a feast and only being to feel the roughness of the sand I'm forced to swallow. It's like standing at a beautiful flower garden, and only being able to see the stretch of a vast, endless desert.It's an ineffable feeling, nearly impossible to describe with just words. But I hope no one ever has to go through it."

The words leave Harry wondering. Wondering what Louis thinks, wondering what it all really means. Wondering about the sides of Louis, Harry has never seen before, simply because he was too caught up in his own head. It shocks him obviously, he knew Louis wasn't exactly happy but he didn't know that he was depressed either. Louis did a good job in masking his feeling, but he was cracking at the corners now.

Just before he could read further, Louis pulled the paper out of his hands.

"I'd appreciate if you didn't dig through my stuff, Harry."

Harry solemnly nods, picking up other pieces of paper and placing them on the glass table at the center of the room. He could go through it all later.They work in silence, communicating only through nods or nudges. It's comfortable, no spaces to fill with words. No forced conversations, no mandatory interactions. Harry think in peace. And for the first time, Harry understands why Louis likes it so much.They spend most of their time together in silence, Harry notices. The taxi ride, the cleaning up, silence is their thing. Just each other's presence lightens the mood.

1 hour, 42 minutes. That's the time it takes them to put everything away. The kitchen is sparkly clean (as Louis' never used it in his life) and Louis refuses to let Harry enter his room. The guest room is clean with fresh sheets and plenty of sunlight and warmth. Clearly, never been used before. The earlier rancid smell has been replaced with the smell of some tropical room fresheners Harry found. The house looks much more like homelier, with the sun's warm rays heating up the freezing living room.

He watches Louis plop down on the sofa, relaxing into the soft velvet cushions. Harry isn't tired, but he can't say the same about Louis. His head is rolled back, his arms are outstretched.

"What are you waiting for?" Louis signals Harry to join him, smiling slightly. Harry can't tell if it's genuine or forced but he hopes it's not the latter.

Harry awkwardly placed himself next to Louis, his hand brushing against Louis'. They stay like that for awhile, before eventually molding into each other. Louis' body cuddled against his feels familiar. They used to cuddle all the time during X-Factor days. Before all this mess began. When they were just two boys in love, two foolish naive boys with great boys but terrible dancers. When they were just Lou and Harry.

Louis doesn't feel as warm against him as he used to, and Harry really hates himself for letting someone nearly killing his sunshine. He strokes the small of Louis' back and he buries his face deeper in Harry's shoulder. His fluffy hair pressed against Harry's neck, mouth slightly apart. Soft snores and even breathing tell Harry the beauty is asleep.

And he can't help press a soft kiss in his hair.

"You've got a warm heart, a beautiful brain but it's all disintegrating; darling."

Hey! Thanks a lot for reading even though I haven't updated in a while! The updates will be slower as I have finals coming up and I feel I might be drifting away from this fandom; I find it harder to find inspiration to update this book, but I'll try to update as frequently as I can! Sorry for all the grammatical errors and this filler chapter.