In My Veins - Chapter 8
pairing: arry/Louis
rating: ature
summary: arry Styles is an arrogant pop star who has fallen into a black hole of drugs and self-loathing. Dr. Louis Tomlinson is hired to fix the unfixable; but not if Harry has any say in it. Coauthored wit onedirection5 she writes even numbered chapters, I write odd).
This chapter written by Shea.
Louis and Harry returned to Harry’s flat, laughing over Louis’ recount of Liam’s most recent disaster in the kitchen, when Harry flung open the door, strolled through the entryway, and stopped dead in his tracks.
“God, where have you been? I’ve been horny all day and I expect you to fix it with that fucking amazing mouth of yours, Haz.”
Louis’ face lost all color when he heard the echo of those words resounding throughout the apartment, the blatantly provocative message contained within that sensuous and unfamiliar voice creating a sinking feeling in Louis’ chest.
“...Zayn?” Harry faltered, confusion marring his handsome face as he wondered what had suddenly brought his combination lover/drug dealer to his flat, and why the fuck was he wearing Harry’s sweats?
“Hey, skank.” Zayn was currently laid sprawled across the couch in the living room, mindlessly flicking through the channels and palming himself through the sweats he had procured from Harry’s room, having opted for a more comfortable change of clothes after waiting a couple of lonely hours for Harry to return. Unfortunately, Harry wasn’t alone and Zayn registered this with a slow smirk finding its way to his face.
“Am I interrupting something? A date, maybe? Isn’t that against standard professional protocol?” Zayn’s smirk grew as he noticed the flushed expression on Dr. Tomlinson’s face and the telltale red of barely-contained anger visible on Harry’s face.
Zayn had done his research. He knew all about the famous Dr. Tomlinson and how he had taken on the incorrigible Harry Styles as his newest task. And the smile grew impossibly wider as he realized that his assumptions were correct and that Harry’s crush was indeed the doctor himself. Although the hint had been evident from the moment Harry had moaned a name that was definitely not Zayn’s while his dick was in a mouth that was definitely not Louis’.
Louis coughed awkwardly to break the tension, which prompted Harry to finally speak up. The words he uttered, however, did not comfort Louis in the slightest.
“Zayn, I thought we agreed that I would only come to your place from now on.”
“Well, Harry, I figured since you gave me the key to your flat, I may as well use it. Besides, my fridge was empty and I was hungry. Now where are your manners? Introduce me to your...friend?” The dark eyed boy slowly and lingeringly glanced up and down Louis’ body, grinning at the doctor when he finished his once-over. Louis shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, glancing at Harry to gauge his reaction.
Harry remained passive, despite the anger brimming behind his eyes. Fucking hell, Zayn? He thought to himself. Of all the fucking times you had to come to my apartment, you pick now? When I’m just starting to get a handle on all this shit? Brilliant. Despite it all, Harry knew that he couldn’t be pissed at Zayn, because the one at fault was himself. He was the one who was too pussy to formally break things off with his fuck buddy. He was the one who decided to bring his doctor home. And he was the one responsible for this unbearably awkward encounter.
Harry broke out of his reverie and turned his attention to the two other men in the flat, who were regarding each other critically.
“Zayn, this is Lou...Dr. Tomlinson. He’s my shrink.” Harry ground out.
“And Louis, this is Zayn. He’s my...” Harry trailed off because he was at a complete loss of words to appropriately label the admittedly non-traditional relationship. He didn’t think any honest description would go over very well with the doctor.
“...mate.” Zayn easily finished Harry’s sentence. “From primary school. We became mates the first day when I punched Hazza here in the face for not sharing his lunch with me.” The lie slipped so smoothly off the dark-haired lads’ tongue that even Harry himself would have had trouble denying its authenticity, had he not been discovering for only about a year now the endless talents that that tongue possessed.
“Hey.” Louis muttered with forced politeness, trying to maintain the cool, professional facade. He knew that Zayn’s story was complete and utter bullshit. He and Harry weren’t “just mates from primary school.” Mates don’t look at each other with the hunger that leached from Zayn’s eyes. Mates don’t demand for each other to take care of their libido. Mates don’t share such heated gazes as the two of them were at the moment, one with lust and the other with blatant fury.
Zayn smirked some more. “Hello, doc.”
Harry wanted Zayn gone. He wanted to continue on with his and Lou’s dinner...date? That seemed as apt a definition as any, and the mere thought made Harry’s pulse quicken. But Zayn wouldn’t budge. Louis, however, did.
Louis decided to make a hasty exit, desperately wanting to escape the situation entirely. His mind was reeling and he suddenly felt a bit queasy, but he kept his face arranged in a convincingly collected mask.
“I’m glad we got to meet up today, Harry, despite not discussing much pertaining to your...situation. But hey, it was a lovely change of pace. Unfortunately, I just remembered that I left some important paperwork at the office and then I have to meet Liam for dinner, so I’ll just leave you two alone. It was nice meeting you, Zayn. Watch out for Harry, he’s a feisty one.” Louis remarked cheekily as he backed out the door, the rapid beating of his heart a stark contrast to his outward demeanor.
Harry stood there, hurt, confusion, anger, and despair all finding its way across his open face. Louis didn’t care about him. Not for one second did he seem to express any jealousy towards Zayn, and yet Harry couldn’t even control the simple pang he felt in his heart at the barest of mentions of Liam. It fucking sucked.
“...Weeeellll, that was awkward. Good thing we got rid of him, huh, Haz?” Zayn remarked, grinning at the young singer.
“Get out.”
“Oh, but I’d much rather get it in, if you know what I mean...” Zayn winked at Harry, oblivious to the fury that was slowly consuming the lad.
“GET. THE. FUCK. OUT. OF. MY. FLAT. NOW. MALIK.” Zayn winced at the tone of Harry’s voice, all the while persisting.
“But...I brought you the stuff, man. You can’t kick me out! You owe me...” Zayn faltered at the curly-haired boys’ expression and decided to just give up.
“What the fuck, Styles,” was all he muttered as he stepped out the door and slammed it shut.
Harry sank to the floor and groaned, head in his hands.
~
It wasn’t long after Zayn had left that Harry became thoroughly confused and so he decided that the only way to relieve his pissed attitude was to get pissed. For some reason, he decided that alcohol, instead of the drugs, would be his solace for the night. Face it, Styles. Drugs won’t make Louis like you. Best to find something that has less severe, more temporary effects. So, he resorted to the bottle he had stowed in his cabinets and, with the first swig, Harry’s thoughts were lost to the haze of the drink.
Until, they weren’t lost anymore. In fact, as the bottle emptied more and more, so did Harry’s memory, as bits and pieces of the day’s events and overall interactions with Louis soon unfolded themselves within his mind, forcing him to relive and analyze the events, and further question himself.
Louis had told him everything. Hadn’t he trusted Harry enough to tell him all the details of his life? Harry was thinking about their time in the coffee shop and then walking down the street and then laughing and singing together. Louis had trusted him. He had poured his heart out in his story about his dad. He had shared that with Harry and the singer had thought for just a second that Louis might harbor some sort of...feeling towards Harry. He had thought that just maybe Louis might return the feelings he was only just starting to discover himself.
Why did it all have to end in shit? Harry lamented. Louis had stood there in the fucking doorway and remarked, “I’ll just leave you two alone” as though he couldn’t care less what Harry was doing or who Harry was doing it with, as long as it wasn’t drugs or alcohol. Well what did you expect him to say? “I love you”? Ha. He’s your therapist. Of course he has to pretend he cares. He gets paid to do it.
Louis had listened to him. Louis had held him. Louis had supported him. And now, Louis had left him. Here. In his apartment. Alone. Like always. Harry was struck with a deep sense of insecurity, of emptiness, of complete and utter abandonment, that he couldn’t take it anymore.
It was when he realized that the alcohol wasn’t having the desired effect of blocking out his thoughts, of relieving him, that Harry resorted to more drastic measures.
Fuck, Styles. Can’t even go two days without shooting up? You’re worthless. No wonder Louis left you.
Harry scrambled around his flat, all the while agonizing over Louis’ crushing apathy towards him, when he came across the goods that Zayn had left behind.
He searched the house for an ample tourniquet that would serve his needs and he found the answer to his anxiety lying on the counter in a brown paper bag.
Hands trembling as a result of both withdrawal and inebriation, Harry lined the needle up to the crease in his elbow and pressed down, waiting for the calm to take over his mind.
~
“So, Niall, what’s it like being the guitarist and best friend of Harry Styles?” Liam prodded Niall from across the candlelit dinner they were sharing at some ritzy restaurant in downtown London.
“I dunno. Harry and I became mates before all the fame got to his head. Before the partying, the drugs, the alcohol, the girls, he was a genuinely great guy. Just...shit happens to the best people a lot of times and I couldn’t leave him once he’d changed, because, at that point, he had almost no one left. So, it’s been rough but Harry’s an amazing singer and I’m hoping he’ll find his way back to his old cheeky self soon. Seems like your mate Louis seems to be helping an awful lot with that though. Lately, Harry’s seemed more alive, more vibrant. Dr. Tomlinson really knows his stuff.” Niall replied easily to his date’s question. The two had exchanged numbers that uncomfortable night at the Liam and Louis’ flat, and it was their first date after hundreds of text messages, dozens of phone calls, and the occasional bouquet of flowers. Things were easy between the two...unlike the relationship of certain friends of theirs.
“Well, I’m sure it’s also been with your help, Nialler. You’re too modest. Sounds like you’ve been helping Harry as best you can. And for me too, I’ve noticed lately that Lou seems happier than he has been...I mean, he sings in the showers, for god’s sake. I haven’t seen him so at ease since he started this job. Harry may be just the perfect match for him. If only the two weren’t so damn blind around each other.” Liam winked at Niall and the returning smile from the blonde boy definitely was the cause of the butterflies he was feeling in his stomach. “But enough about them. Tonight’s about us. And I have to say that you sure know how to eat. Not to be rude or anything. I mean, you’re super fit but that is not a normal portion for a young lad like you to be eating.” Liam giggled at the bright red blush that covered Niall’s cheeks.
Niall was stuck on the “super fit” comment, but eventually collected himself enough to check his watch and realize the time. Reluctantly, he looked back to Liam and said, “As wonderful as tonight has been, would it be okay if we headed back to Harry’s flat now? I have to be up early at the recording studio tomorrow, but I was planning on checking up on him first.”
Liam smiled easily, despite not wanting the date to end, and agreed to Niall’s request. “Of course.” He got up from his seat at the table, helped Niall out of his, and held his hand till they made it to Liam’s car.
Niall tried not to frown at the lack of contact once the two were firmly seated in the car. Instead, he focused on the fact that Liam had a bright smile on the face, which seemed to reflect exactly how he himself was feeling.
They arrived at the flat and Niall was about to get out of the car, when Liam came around to his side door and opened it for him. Niall’s cheeks were burning and he was certain Liam could see, but the older lad did not remark on it. In fact, he grew rather quiet as the two headed to the door.
“Well, Liam, tonight was lovel...” Niall’s voice was cut off by a pair of warm lips touching his and he instantly melted into the contact. A small sigh escaped his lips and he felt Liam smirk against his mouth.
The kiss wasn’t long but so much was contained within it. The two boys drew apart and gazed at each other for a few seconds, till Liam huskily whispered, “Evening, Mr. Horan,” and sauntered back to his car. Niall was amazed the boy was able to walk so gracefully when he had trouble even standing up after that kiss. Their first kiss.
Elated, Niall ran into the apartment, slammed the door shut, and shouted, “HARRY EDWARD STYLES, GUESS WHAT JUST HAPPENED?!”
Receiving no response, Niall instantly began to scramble around the flat, searching for his mate.
“...Harry...?” Niall tentatively called, rounding the corner to the living room.
“Jesus Christ, HARRY?!” Niall panicked, looking on the ground at his apparently unconscious friend. His friend who was lying in a puddle of vomit, with a very faint pulse as Niall could see. Niall looked around and spotted the needle.
“Shit, Harry. Not again.” Niall muttered, heart sinking at the sudden catastrophe that hindered Harry’s progress.
He hefted Harry up from the ground, struggling with the lanky boy, till he managed to carry a now-awake, and moaning, Harry to his bed.
“...Niall...” Harry whispered shakily.
“It’s alright Harry. Just stay in bed. Go to sleep now, Haz.”
“Ni...wait...don’t...don’t tell Louis. Please.” Those were the last words Harry uttered succumbing once again to unconsciousness...or sleep. Niall hoped it was the latter.
“Sure thing, Haz. Sure thing.” Niall sadly remarked, leaving the room to figure out this shit, as well as clean up Harry’s mess.
~
Harry wasn’t getting better.
But that would be putting it lightly; Harry was getting much, much worse.
Niall was at his wits end.
It had been two days since Niall had found Harry unconscious in his flat and Niall had been busy the whole time trying to keep Harry away from any and all illicit substances. He threw out all traces and paraphernalia of drugs and removed any presence of alcohol from the flat. Harry, for his part, had spent the past two days in weakening condition, as the heroin found its way further into his system, deeper into his veins. Niall gazed worriedly at his shaking and shivering friend, who was resting on the couch, chanting quietly, “Louis, Louis, Lou, please,” almost subconsciously.
Niall decided it was time for drastic measures. He needed help. Harry needed help.
He picked up Harry’s phone from where it was resting on the counter, and uttered only one simple sentence when the person picked up.
“Louis, Harry needs you.”
rating: ature
summary: arry Styles is an arrogant pop star who has fallen into a black hole of drugs and self-loathing. Dr. Louis Tomlinson is hired to fix the unfixable; but not if Harry has any say in it. Coauthored wit onedirection5 she writes even numbered chapters, I write odd).
This chapter written by Shea.
Louis and Harry returned to Harry’s flat, laughing over Louis’ recount of Liam’s most recent disaster in the kitchen, when Harry flung open the door, strolled through the entryway, and stopped dead in his tracks.
“God, where have you been? I’ve been horny all day and I expect you to fix it with that fucking amazing mouth of yours, Haz.”
Louis’ face lost all color when he heard the echo of those words resounding throughout the apartment, the blatantly provocative message contained within that sensuous and unfamiliar voice creating a sinking feeling in Louis’ chest.
“...Zayn?” Harry faltered, confusion marring his handsome face as he wondered what had suddenly brought his combination lover/drug dealer to his flat, and why the fuck was he wearing Harry’s sweats?
“Hey, skank.” Zayn was currently laid sprawled across the couch in the living room, mindlessly flicking through the channels and palming himself through the sweats he had procured from Harry’s room, having opted for a more comfortable change of clothes after waiting a couple of lonely hours for Harry to return. Unfortunately, Harry wasn’t alone and Zayn registered this with a slow smirk finding its way to his face.
“Am I interrupting something? A date, maybe? Isn’t that against standard professional protocol?” Zayn’s smirk grew as he noticed the flushed expression on Dr. Tomlinson’s face and the telltale red of barely-contained anger visible on Harry’s face.
Zayn had done his research. He knew all about the famous Dr. Tomlinson and how he had taken on the incorrigible Harry Styles as his newest task. And the smile grew impossibly wider as he realized that his assumptions were correct and that Harry’s crush was indeed the doctor himself. Although the hint had been evident from the moment Harry had moaned a name that was definitely not Zayn’s while his dick was in a mouth that was definitely not Louis’.
Louis coughed awkwardly to break the tension, which prompted Harry to finally speak up. The words he uttered, however, did not comfort Louis in the slightest.
“Zayn, I thought we agreed that I would only come to your place from now on.”
“Well, Harry, I figured since you gave me the key to your flat, I may as well use it. Besides, my fridge was empty and I was hungry. Now where are your manners? Introduce me to your...friend?” The dark eyed boy slowly and lingeringly glanced up and down Louis’ body, grinning at the doctor when he finished his once-over. Louis shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, glancing at Harry to gauge his reaction.
Harry remained passive, despite the anger brimming behind his eyes. Fucking hell, Zayn? He thought to himself. Of all the fucking times you had to come to my apartment, you pick now? When I’m just starting to get a handle on all this shit? Brilliant. Despite it all, Harry knew that he couldn’t be pissed at Zayn, because the one at fault was himself. He was the one who was too pussy to formally break things off with his fuck buddy. He was the one who decided to bring his doctor home. And he was the one responsible for this unbearably awkward encounter.
Harry broke out of his reverie and turned his attention to the two other men in the flat, who were regarding each other critically.
“Zayn, this is Lou...Dr. Tomlinson. He’s my shrink.” Harry ground out.
“And Louis, this is Zayn. He’s my...” Harry trailed off because he was at a complete loss of words to appropriately label the admittedly non-traditional relationship. He didn’t think any honest description would go over very well with the doctor.
“...mate.” Zayn easily finished Harry’s sentence. “From primary school. We became mates the first day when I punched Hazza here in the face for not sharing his lunch with me.” The lie slipped so smoothly off the dark-haired lads’ tongue that even Harry himself would have had trouble denying its authenticity, had he not been discovering for only about a year now the endless talents that that tongue possessed.
“Hey.” Louis muttered with forced politeness, trying to maintain the cool, professional facade. He knew that Zayn’s story was complete and utter bullshit. He and Harry weren’t “just mates from primary school.” Mates don’t look at each other with the hunger that leached from Zayn’s eyes. Mates don’t demand for each other to take care of their libido. Mates don’t share such heated gazes as the two of them were at the moment, one with lust and the other with blatant fury.
Zayn smirked some more. “Hello, doc.”
Harry wanted Zayn gone. He wanted to continue on with his and Lou’s dinner...date? That seemed as apt a definition as any, and the mere thought made Harry’s pulse quicken. But Zayn wouldn’t budge. Louis, however, did.
Louis decided to make a hasty exit, desperately wanting to escape the situation entirely. His mind was reeling and he suddenly felt a bit queasy, but he kept his face arranged in a convincingly collected mask.
“I’m glad we got to meet up today, Harry, despite not discussing much pertaining to your...situation. But hey, it was a lovely change of pace. Unfortunately, I just remembered that I left some important paperwork at the office and then I have to meet Liam for dinner, so I’ll just leave you two alone. It was nice meeting you, Zayn. Watch out for Harry, he’s a feisty one.” Louis remarked cheekily as he backed out the door, the rapid beating of his heart a stark contrast to his outward demeanor.
Harry stood there, hurt, confusion, anger, and despair all finding its way across his open face. Louis didn’t care about him. Not for one second did he seem to express any jealousy towards Zayn, and yet Harry couldn’t even control the simple pang he felt in his heart at the barest of mentions of Liam. It fucking sucked.
“...Weeeellll, that was awkward. Good thing we got rid of him, huh, Haz?” Zayn remarked, grinning at the young singer.
“Get out.”
“Oh, but I’d much rather get it in, if you know what I mean...” Zayn winked at Harry, oblivious to the fury that was slowly consuming the lad.
“GET. THE. FUCK. OUT. OF. MY. FLAT. NOW. MALIK.” Zayn winced at the tone of Harry’s voice, all the while persisting.
“But...I brought you the stuff, man. You can’t kick me out! You owe me...” Zayn faltered at the curly-haired boys’ expression and decided to just give up.
“What the fuck, Styles,” was all he muttered as he stepped out the door and slammed it shut.
Harry sank to the floor and groaned, head in his hands.
~
It wasn’t long after Zayn had left that Harry became thoroughly confused and so he decided that the only way to relieve his pissed attitude was to get pissed. For some reason, he decided that alcohol, instead of the drugs, would be his solace for the night. Face it, Styles. Drugs won’t make Louis like you. Best to find something that has less severe, more temporary effects. So, he resorted to the bottle he had stowed in his cabinets and, with the first swig, Harry’s thoughts were lost to the haze of the drink.
Until, they weren’t lost anymore. In fact, as the bottle emptied more and more, so did Harry’s memory, as bits and pieces of the day’s events and overall interactions with Louis soon unfolded themselves within his mind, forcing him to relive and analyze the events, and further question himself.
Louis had told him everything. Hadn’t he trusted Harry enough to tell him all the details of his life? Harry was thinking about their time in the coffee shop and then walking down the street and then laughing and singing together. Louis had trusted him. He had poured his heart out in his story about his dad. He had shared that with Harry and the singer had thought for just a second that Louis might harbor some sort of...feeling towards Harry. He had thought that just maybe Louis might return the feelings he was only just starting to discover himself.
Why did it all have to end in shit? Harry lamented. Louis had stood there in the fucking doorway and remarked, “I’ll just leave you two alone” as though he couldn’t care less what Harry was doing or who Harry was doing it with, as long as it wasn’t drugs or alcohol. Well what did you expect him to say? “I love you”? Ha. He’s your therapist. Of course he has to pretend he cares. He gets paid to do it.
Louis had listened to him. Louis had held him. Louis had supported him. And now, Louis had left him. Here. In his apartment. Alone. Like always. Harry was struck with a deep sense of insecurity, of emptiness, of complete and utter abandonment, that he couldn’t take it anymore.
It was when he realized that the alcohol wasn’t having the desired effect of blocking out his thoughts, of relieving him, that Harry resorted to more drastic measures.
Fuck, Styles. Can’t even go two days without shooting up? You’re worthless. No wonder Louis left you.
Harry scrambled around his flat, all the while agonizing over Louis’ crushing apathy towards him, when he came across the goods that Zayn had left behind.
He searched the house for an ample tourniquet that would serve his needs and he found the answer to his anxiety lying on the counter in a brown paper bag.
Hands trembling as a result of both withdrawal and inebriation, Harry lined the needle up to the crease in his elbow and pressed down, waiting for the calm to take over his mind.
~
“So, Niall, what’s it like being the guitarist and best friend of Harry Styles?” Liam prodded Niall from across the candlelit dinner they were sharing at some ritzy restaurant in downtown London.
“I dunno. Harry and I became mates before all the fame got to his head. Before the partying, the drugs, the alcohol, the girls, he was a genuinely great guy. Just...shit happens to the best people a lot of times and I couldn’t leave him once he’d changed, because, at that point, he had almost no one left. So, it’s been rough but Harry’s an amazing singer and I’m hoping he’ll find his way back to his old cheeky self soon. Seems like your mate Louis seems to be helping an awful lot with that though. Lately, Harry’s seemed more alive, more vibrant. Dr. Tomlinson really knows his stuff.” Niall replied easily to his date’s question. The two had exchanged numbers that uncomfortable night at the Liam and Louis’ flat, and it was their first date after hundreds of text messages, dozens of phone calls, and the occasional bouquet of flowers. Things were easy between the two...unlike the relationship of certain friends of theirs.
“Well, I’m sure it’s also been with your help, Nialler. You’re too modest. Sounds like you’ve been helping Harry as best you can. And for me too, I’ve noticed lately that Lou seems happier than he has been...I mean, he sings in the showers, for god’s sake. I haven’t seen him so at ease since he started this job. Harry may be just the perfect match for him. If only the two weren’t so damn blind around each other.” Liam winked at Niall and the returning smile from the blonde boy definitely was the cause of the butterflies he was feeling in his stomach. “But enough about them. Tonight’s about us. And I have to say that you sure know how to eat. Not to be rude or anything. I mean, you’re super fit but that is not a normal portion for a young lad like you to be eating.” Liam giggled at the bright red blush that covered Niall’s cheeks.
Niall was stuck on the “super fit” comment, but eventually collected himself enough to check his watch and realize the time. Reluctantly, he looked back to Liam and said, “As wonderful as tonight has been, would it be okay if we headed back to Harry’s flat now? I have to be up early at the recording studio tomorrow, but I was planning on checking up on him first.”
Liam smiled easily, despite not wanting the date to end, and agreed to Niall’s request. “Of course.” He got up from his seat at the table, helped Niall out of his, and held his hand till they made it to Liam’s car.
Niall tried not to frown at the lack of contact once the two were firmly seated in the car. Instead, he focused on the fact that Liam had a bright smile on the face, which seemed to reflect exactly how he himself was feeling.
They arrived at the flat and Niall was about to get out of the car, when Liam came around to his side door and opened it for him. Niall’s cheeks were burning and he was certain Liam could see, but the older lad did not remark on it. In fact, he grew rather quiet as the two headed to the door.
“Well, Liam, tonight was lovel...” Niall’s voice was cut off by a pair of warm lips touching his and he instantly melted into the contact. A small sigh escaped his lips and he felt Liam smirk against his mouth.
The kiss wasn’t long but so much was contained within it. The two boys drew apart and gazed at each other for a few seconds, till Liam huskily whispered, “Evening, Mr. Horan,” and sauntered back to his car. Niall was amazed the boy was able to walk so gracefully when he had trouble even standing up after that kiss. Their first kiss.
Elated, Niall ran into the apartment, slammed the door shut, and shouted, “HARRY EDWARD STYLES, GUESS WHAT JUST HAPPENED?!”
Receiving no response, Niall instantly began to scramble around the flat, searching for his mate.
“...Harry...?” Niall tentatively called, rounding the corner to the living room.
“Jesus Christ, HARRY?!” Niall panicked, looking on the ground at his apparently unconscious friend. His friend who was lying in a puddle of vomit, with a very faint pulse as Niall could see. Niall looked around and spotted the needle.
“Shit, Harry. Not again.” Niall muttered, heart sinking at the sudden catastrophe that hindered Harry’s progress.
He hefted Harry up from the ground, struggling with the lanky boy, till he managed to carry a now-awake, and moaning, Harry to his bed.
“...Niall...” Harry whispered shakily.
“It’s alright Harry. Just stay in bed. Go to sleep now, Haz.”
“Ni...wait...don’t...don’t tell Louis. Please.” Those were the last words Harry uttered succumbing once again to unconsciousness...or sleep. Niall hoped it was the latter.
“Sure thing, Haz. Sure thing.” Niall sadly remarked, leaving the room to figure out this shit, as well as clean up Harry’s mess.
~
Harry wasn’t getting better.
But that would be putting it lightly; Harry was getting much, much worse.
Niall was at his wits end.
It had been two days since Niall had found Harry unconscious in his flat and Niall had been busy the whole time trying to keep Harry away from any and all illicit substances. He threw out all traces and paraphernalia of drugs and removed any presence of alcohol from the flat. Harry, for his part, had spent the past two days in weakening condition, as the heroin found its way further into his system, deeper into his veins. Niall gazed worriedly at his shaking and shivering friend, who was resting on the couch, chanting quietly, “Louis, Louis, Lou, please,” almost subconsciously.
Niall decided it was time for drastic measures. He needed help. Harry needed help.
He picked up Harry’s phone from where it was resting on the counter, and uttered only one simple sentence when the person picked up.
“Louis, Harry needs you.”