YOU AND ME ⇒ larry

TWO

Weeks after his argumemt with Harry, Louis feels somewhat better. Everyone’s getting along better, excluding him and Harry, who haven’t spoken since, which doesn’t go unnoticed. Liam had raised an eyebrow at Louis when he and Harry had completely blanked each other one morning at breakfast. 

Obviously, Liam knew the duo had split years ago, but both boys had at least thought they’d be civil with one another. But that was before Niall had confided in him that he saw Louis leaving Harry’s hotel room one morning looking rather distraught. 

They’ve all even started sleeping on their tour bus again. Of course, things are still tense, but not as tense. Louis is grateful. He’s grateful that the air is starting to be cleared, the ice is on its way to being broken. He and Zayn have yet to murmer words to one another, but they’re able to sit calmly in the same room without tearing each others heads off; which Niall and Liam see as a plus.

Louis is happy. He’s happy for the first time in a long time. Preforming has helped drag him out of this slump he’d found himself in ever since his mums death. He’s back on stage, singing his heart out to songs he wrote back when he was younger. Its nostalgic and despite the tension and Harry’s hurtful words, he feels better about life. There’s something about singing songs that you wrote during the happiest years of your life when you’re currently going through the worst years of your life makes him feel something. 

The lads are just finishing up their concert in New York, soon to be heading to Canada in the early hours of the next morning for yet another few concerts. To say they looked odd on stage together is an understatement. They looked unnatural. From Louis with his peaky blinders trim, no longer feathery haired, to Liam with his longer curtains hairstyle or Harry in his satin button down, brunet and clean shaven Niall, his platnuim hair long gone; with Zayn replacing him as the bands blond. They were definitely not the boys they used to be. 

In the middle of Midnight Memories, Louis starts to feel his head spin. Something doesn’t feel right. As if on cue, his stomach turns sickeningly and Louis finds himself sprinting off the stage in a clumsy manner and lunging for some kind of bucket back stage. He’s throwing his guts up, the contents of his stomach empting themselves into the bucket that Lou Teasdale had passed his way seconds before. 

“Fuck,” He heaves, throwing up once more. Louis sits there for a moment, sitting against a wall backstage, the bucket resting in between his legs, his eyes are closed. His stomach is turning again and he finds himself reaching for the bucket once more. 

Louis hears footsteps and feels a hand on his shoulder. Louis’ mind goes to Harry. And when he looks up he’s heart hurts to see its Zayn instead. “Hey, take it easy, easy,” Zayn gives his shoulder a pat. Louis stares at him, blinking. 

“Zayn, what the fuck,” Is all Louis manages to mutter. Louis and Zayn had once been absolutely inseparable. But now it was nothing but cold shoulders and side ways glances. “What the fuck are you doing?” Louis snaps. “Let go of me,” He demands as he pulls himself away, out for Zayn’s touch. 

Zayn sighs. “Louis, you’re sick, let me fucking help alright, leave the big bad attitude out of it,” He says.

“Fuck off, Zayn,” Louis says coolly. “I’m fine, I’m not sick,” Louis huffs. He didn’t need Zayn to see him like this. He didn’t need his fucking pity. Nor did he need his help. 

“Look, let’s just let everything go, yeah? Leave it all in the past, its obviously stressing everyone out and nobody should be walking on eggshells around us anymore, you’re back here vomiting your guts up and I don’t want you to hate me when we’re all supposed to be having a laugh out there,”