half truths ,, l.s

11

LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA. 20 FEBRUARY 2016.

It's not something Louis can just fix, and it's when Harry really, truly understands how fucked this all is.

Louis' never not been able to fix something. Anxiety about a show, grieving the loss of a loved ones, arguments with his friends; Louis just fixes it all. He's always been able to. At the very least, he can give Harry the tools he needs to fix a situation himself, but not now, not with this. Louis doesn't know what to do.

Harry has to explain everything to him, which is probably the hardest thing he's ever had to do. He has to go through it all, can't leave out a single detail or Louis will stop him and ask himself. Harry can't look at him while he talks, and his voice shakes and his eyes burn and he feels the most embarrassed he has in his entire life. Louis doesn't say anything for a long time once Harry's finished, and Harry just has to sit in the suffocating silence because he's kept Louis out of his head for years now, and he can't just ask to be allowed into Louis'. He doesn't deserve to be let in.

"Zayn should've told me," is the first thing he says, about fifteen minutes later. They're laying in bed, and it's the day after Harry fainted. Louis cleaned up the blood on the gym's floor last night. "He knew, and he should've fucking told me."

"He was going through stuff himself. And I told him not to. I trusted him"

"So you didn't trust me?"

"Of course I did," Harry says quickly. "I've always trusted you."

"You say you trust me, but you didn't tell me this for so long, and now you won't even look at me." He doesn't sound angry, just really, really hurt and confused. Harry forces himself to look at him, and Louis' eyebrows are furrowed and his lips are in a straight line.

Harry clears his throat and glances back down at his lap. He wants to curl into Louis' side, but out of the fear he'll be rejected, he doesn't. "I'm so sick of all this, Louis."

"I just can't believe I didn't notice." He sounds defeated. "How did I not -- you are skinnier, now that I know. How much do you weigh?"

"Louis. . ."

"Harry."

"I'm not underweight," Harry tells him honestly. "I was, a few times. . . but even then, it wasn't too much under. But I'm not underweight right now. And I gained a lot of weight back when we were away from home."

Louis sighs. "Is that why you didn't want to go to London?"

Harry scrubs a hand over his face. He's tired and stressed and sad and hungry , shit . Louis was too scared to force him to eat last night, and they haven't gotten out of bed yet. He's not going to be able to handle Louis pressuring him to eat. "Nick started asking questions. I was scared."

"How the fuck did he notice and not me?" He sounds so, so mad, and for the first time Harry realizes how badly this is going to weigh on Louis. He's going to feel guilty. Paranoid. Harry did that to him.

"I'm -- "

"Stop apologizing, Jesus Christ," Louis murmurs, shifting on the bed, making the distance between them greater. "I need to, like. I need to figure things out right now."

Harry shrinks back. It sounds final, like Louis' quitting on him. Louis stands, and Harry can't help the desperate way he flings out his arm to reach for Louis, to keep him close. He grabs his arm, and Louis sighs. He comes closer and holds Harry's face before kissing him on the forehead and murmuring, "I'm just going out for a smoke. I'm not going anywhere."

Harry clings to his wrists. He's fucking terrified. "Please don't tell anyone," he whispers, knowing Louis' going to go run and tell his mum. Harry was right, he can tell by the way Louis' face falls, but he nods nonetheless. Harry lets him go, and he watches Louis' retreating figure until it stops by the door and Louis turns his head slightly so Harry can see his face.