Fine line (Larry Stylinson)

Chapter 15

We had ended up at a public park after about a half hour of walking, sitting (in causal a causal distance of course) at a park bench and observing a pond before us.

On the way we had made small talk about the weather, the industry, mutual friends and old memories. Nothing too heavy, but it was enjoyable. It was normal.

I admit, I was determined to hear the answer to the question I asked him at the cafè, but just talking to Louis was just as enjoyable to me.

I could hear those sat alarms in my head again, the ones that alerted me when I was getting too close, falling too deep into a situation.

But again, I silenced them, told them to fuck off. I could handle myself.

Well, for right now, at least.

"It's quiet here."

Louis spoke calmly, and I looked over at him quickly before gazing back at the pond. He seemed to be deep in thought, contemplating on his next sentence.

He used to do that a lot when he had something rather loaded to say, and that thought both frightened and excited me.

There were a million things I could say, so many things to ask, but I just nodded along to his words.

I didn't want to prod. After all, it wasn't my place anymore. I'm not sure if ever was in the first place.

"It's not entirely bullshit, y'know."

His words caught me off gaurd, and I looked over at him, willing him to turn to me. But Louis kept his gaze on the pond, eyes faltering and moving to one object and then another.

"Care to elaborate?"

Louis chuckled softly and glanced at me for only a second.

"I'm getting there mate, hold your horses."

My face blushed and I was suddenly relieved his focus wasn't on me.

"El is...well she's my best friend. A soulmate of some sorts."

I was confused by this, but I willed him to continue.

"She's been here for me through everything, since the very beginning. She understands me like no one else does, she's there when no one else can be. She gets me."

I felt a little voice in my head screaming I get you! But I silenced it. After all, I wasn't sure how true that was anymore. It's been so long, maybe too long.

He continued and I listened with an open mind.

"I love her in a way. Not the way I'm supposed to, but I do love her."

I saw his lip quiver and detected a strain in his voice. It almost sounded like guilt, regret. Almost as if he willed himself to love her in the way he was supposed to, whatever he meant by that.

"Am my son," he went on, "my little Freddy - he adores her, thinks of her as his second mother. It makes it easier."

I felt a deep pain with in me and this time, I could tell where this one came from. I had heard that term so many times, in so many different conversations, throughout so many years. Easier, normal, safer.

"Lou, just because it's easier doesn't me - "

"Harry," he spoke not curtly but seriously, "just let me explain, yeah?"

I nodded and fell to silence, though I had more than a lake of words at my disposal. I had the whole damn ocean.

"I had just started off my solo career when my mother passed. Even before then, I wasn't doing too hot. My appearances weren't up to date, my fan base was dwindling. I wasn't relevant anymore Harry."

He spoke with Shane and remorse, and I clenched my fist, knowing what was coming next.

"I was ready to give up, in more ways than one. But then one day, our old management approached me and offered me a deal. I was vulnerable, broken. I needed something. So I took it."

I felt the blood in my veins boil, and it I were in a cartoon, smoke would be bursting from my ears. Of course they approached him when he was vulnerable, made him an offer he couldn't resist. Of fucking course.

"Those bastards," I muttered under my breath, and Louis looked over to me.

"I know how you feel about them Harry," he spoke in a calming voice, trying to soothe me. "But they saved my career. They gave me a second chance. Trust me, I hate them too, but I owe them for that."

I backed away from him and looked at him in disbelief.

"Owe them?" I could almost feel the anger seeping from my pores, "you don't owe them shit Lou!"

I felt him flinch, but I kept on. I wasn't angry at him. I wasn't disappointed in him either. He'd fallen victim once more, and I hated them for that.

"Think of everything they put us through, everything they made us hide, everything they did to us! They're monsters Louis, they're using you."

Louis purses his lips and I found see the hurt behind his eyes. I could see the guilt and the regret and the hate he held for them that must've buoy for so many years. I felt my heart yearn for him, my arms screaming to wrap around him, protect him from all of this, from them.

But I couldn't bring myself to. It wasn't my right, it was t my responsibility anymore.

"I know," his voice shook, and it was only now that I noticed the few stray tears falling from his eyes. "I know that, all of it. I hate them, and I hate myself for being sucked back in. But I'm not like you, Harry. I'm not good at being myself, at being proud and open. You of all people should know that about me."

My eyes closed as I took in his words, and the last ten years flashed before my eyes. As much as it pained me to admit it, he was right. Louis was always so scared, so worried about what others would think. When I wanted to scream what we had from the rooftops, he chose to cower in fear.

But never once did I hold that against him. Never once did I resent him for it. I accepted his fear, I accepted his restrictions. And I'd do it again and again.

That's what hurt the most.

"But you could, Lou," I was almost pleading now. "You could be honest, you could break free."

He scoffed and wiped his eyes as if what I said had been merely impossible.

"It's too late."

Maybe he was right. Maybe, in some ways it was better for both of us to let this go, to forget and move on.

But I always had been the devils advocate.

"Then why ask to meet me today?"

There it was again, that dangerous bout of confidence that always seemed to condemn me.

"Why ask to leave the cafè, why tell me all of this if it's too late?"

Louis looked up at me then, big blue eyes glassy with despair and yet dripping with - with hope.

"You know why, Harry."