and now how could i let things get this out of hand part 2/?
Title: and now how could i let things get this out of hand
Part: 2/?
Pairing: Harry/Louis, Louis/Eleanor
Word Count: 2,725
Rating: PG
Warnings: mentions of sex, mild cursing
Disclaimer: I do not own One Direction (or any of the band members individually), Eleanor and well, you all know the drill.
A/N: i'm sorry it took so long. i had a hard time writing eleanor. i didn't know how i wanted to deal with her but i think i got it down! i'm happy with how this turned out! again, feedback is greatly appreciated! it makes me feel all warm inside! please? :)
Summary: "“You know that’s a lie.” He did know. It was a lie and it was a big lie and it was probably the most painful lie he’d ever tell Harry." It used to be just that: pretend. But then something changed and Harry knew. Harry always knew. He just never talked about it. Until now.
Part 1 is here!
Louis wasn’t sure how long he just sat there with his head bent, knees brought up to his chest, arms wrapped so tightly around himself (he thought that it might help hold him together) but he was acutely aware of the fact that his lungs were burning and he was suffocating against the thick fabric of his jumper. But Louis didn’t want to lift his head, no, because then he would see the apartment and how empty it was and how quiet it was (aside from his own laboured breathing, that is) and it would, undoubtedly, tear him to shreds. And so he kept his head pressed between his knees, sobbing-or gasping, he wasn’t really sure anymore-until cool hands were forcing his head up and shoving his arms out of the way.
“Jesus, Lou,” was the first thing he heard (but it was wrong; muffled and too thick and why did it feel like everything was moving too slow) and he blinked at the mop of curly hair in front of him, his vision blurred, head throbbing. HarryHarryHarry he gasped, whispering softly, chanting the only name left in his vocabulary.
“Breathe, Louis.” He frowned at the command; he was breathing, wasn’t he? He could feel his chest heaving with the effort of relieving his burning lungs.
“No- Louis, shhhh, calm down.” Cool fingers were guiding his head backward until he was leaning on the cushions of the sofa. They ghosted over his face, softly wiping away the sweat on his forehead, pushing back his fringe. He stared at the ceiling as gentle thumbs smoothed over his cheeks, wiping away the tears. One hand drifted towards his chest, settling on his shoulder, fingers curled around his neck as comforting circles were being rubbed against his collarbone. He felt a warm weight settle on his lap and he thought no, don’t, you’re not - shutting his eyes quickly, breathing coming fast again.
“Louis, shhh, please,” she whispered before leaning in to peck his lips lightly. “Please, try to relax.” Louis cringed slightly but her thumb lightly grazed his eyebrows, smoothing them out, erasing the frown from his face. She whispered another soft plea before leaning forward to peck his lips again. Once, twice, a third time- and on the third time, she lingered there, brushing her own lips against his over and over and-
“Please.” Louis whispered and she froze. He finally opened his eyes and found her staring right back at him. “Please, El, just-“ he was cut off as her lips sealed over his and she pushed forward, hands sliding down his torso before gripping the hem of his jumper. She moved fast, using Louis’ shocked state to push deeper into the kiss, tugging his jumper up and-
“Jesus, El-“ Louis breathed, turning his head away from her but she continued to nip and suck a trail down his throat. “Eleanor, stop.” Louis repeated, louder this time, finally lifting his hands to grip her upper arms gently, pushing her away.
“You asked-“ She started, out of breath, and Louis noted how her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were wide.
“I wasn’t asking for that...” He replied softly, shifting a bit as Eleanor settled back down on his lap, knees on either side of his legs. He realised that she thought he was asking for what he always (usually) needed from her-well, no. Not this time. “Actually, I...” He placed his hands on her tiny waist to slowly nudge her and guide her off him. For a fleeting moment she looked offended but then she shook her head and leaned forward to cup his face in her hands again.
“Louis, I-“ she hesitated, shaking her head a bit, “I’m sorry,” Louis almost laughed at that. He had been saying those words so much in the past minutes that it had acquired a painful, bitter tang to it-words that now seemed to mock and taunt him. He hiccupped (still not rid of that post-crying breath hitches) before lifting his hands to slowly hold Eleanor’s hands in his. He lowered them from his face and formally placed them on her lap.
“Please don’t.” He whispered, voice cracking at the end and he wasn’t sure if he was telling her to stop apologising or to stop.... well, everything. He never seemed to be sure about anything with Eleanor but it was never a problem before. She tentatively placed her hand on his thigh, patting it softly.
“It will all get better really soon, I promise.” She smiled and Louis smiled too, looking down at his lap because he knew she meant well but it didn’t mean that she was right. He took deep breaths to calm himself. After what seemed like too long a moment of silence, he finally raised his head again.
“No, Eleanor... it won’t.” He breathed out and he watched her face fall. She moved her hand from his thigh to gently grasp Louis’, intertwining their fingers. He took another deep breath before continuing. “Eleanor, this will never get better. Nothing will ever be able to make this better. I-I won’t get better.”
“You will,” She started to insist, squeezing his hand, leaning forward, all earnest and determined and (Louis noticed) a bit tight around the eyes. “You have me.” She added and Louis laughed shortly, leaning his head back and pulling his hand out from beneath hers to rub at his eyes (noting painfully that the burst of Harry that was always there behind his eyelids had dimmed to an almost cruel glow and he panicked)
“I don’t have him,” He sobbed, broken voice, broken heart, broken everything. “And, El, if I don’t have him then I-“ He felt the now very familiar hot tears begin to spill over his cheeks (had they ever stopped flowing), “I can’t, Eleanor, I can’t not have him. Ever.” Eleanor was shaking her head vigorously now, shuffling forward to straddle him, perching herself on his lap (and Louis thought again-no, don’t, you’re not him-)
“No,” she cupped Louis’ face in her hands, wiping at the tears that Louis seemed unable to control anymore. “You just need time-“
“You don’t understand-”
“No, you don’t understand. Listen to me, this is all just a big shock to you and it just happened so you’re just-you’re reeling from it.” Louis cringed at her choice of words, “But tomorrow things will come into perspective-“
“No-“
“Okay, then!” She threw her arms up exasperatedly, “If not tomorrow then the next day or the day after that or the day after that- Louis, the point is... don’t. Don’t do this. Please. I don’t want to lose you over this.“ Her hands returned to wipe the tears from his face. She rested her forehead against Louis’ own and exhaled deeply. Louis opened his eyes to stare at her, so close, so warm, eyes shut, long lashes fluttering against her cheek and he felt the familiarity and it almost-almost-felt like home.
But then Louis remembered green eyes that would glare at him (but would soon turn soft as soon as he kissed him) and long, thin limbs that were all over the place and tripping over each other and curly hair that would block his view of the television. He remembered the adorable whiskers that came with laughter (more often than not, too loud and not at the right moment) and the husky, deep, lazy voice that would mumble his name and whisper nonsense to him as they slowly drifted off to sleep.
He remembered strong arms and how they kept him in place, held him together, told him where he belonged. He remembered thin, pink lips and how they smirked and smiled and pouted or grimaced and half the time, Louis spent most of his energy on concentrating on not staring at them, reaching for them or just closing the distance between them because he knew how smug Harry’d be later when they were alone.
He remembered tangled blankets and pillows strewn on the floor because Harry moved a lot in his sleep and they were too lazy to fix anything. He remembered notes on foggy bathroom mirrors because Harry was a thoughtful sweetheart and would always leave him notes while he showered (even if most of them were a simple, cheeky “nice bum”). He remembered breakfast set on his plate in the shape of a smiley because even if he denied it, Harry knew how much he loved it. He remembered lazy nights spent perched on the kitchen counter because he loved watching Harry cook (and a cook dressed in only a thin jumper and his boxers was extremely appreciated).
He remembered all the firsts and the thrill of starting something new with a boy he had just met. He remembered the settling down and how calming it felt to be getting into a routine with a boy he loved. He remembered the moment he realised that he loved Harry (it was no big moment, Harry had just simply given him a kiss before leaving the flat and he thought, “when did we become that couple who kisses each other before leaving”). He remembered the first time he told Harry (he had blurted it out right then and there and Harry turned to face him and Louis stood up and went to kiss him and later that night Harry would ask him, as they lay tangled in bed, “Was it because I kissed you before going out?” to which Louis would reply, “No, I love you because you were going out to get me milk” and he would see those whiskers he loved that came with Harry’s little angry cat laugh).
He remembered how painful it was to watch Harry leave, how heavy Louis’ entire body felt as he whispered broken apologies over and over again, how Louis was sure that the crushing pressure on his chest could only be literal heart ache, how he did not even hear the door slamming over his own hoarse scream of Harry’s name, how his mind had never gotten over the image of Harry’s face crumpling into a sob-
And then in the midst of all the heart-wrenching memories and the slow, hot tears, Louis found himself right back on a familiar stage, in a well-known moment of a well-loved memory.
Louis was all high- mind dazed, heart racing and entire being exploding with happiness. Before he knew what he was doing, he was jumping-leaping-into this other boy’s arms and he had a split second of doubt (of what the hell are you doing to who the fuck is this) before he felt warm arms wrap around him, heard whispers of it’s okay, we did it, it’s okay, we’re in, fucking christ, i can’t believe it and at the end of that day, all Louis would remember from that moment was the flash of green that held him and the warm thought that no matter what happened from then on, at least he had gotten one good thing out of it- and that was Harry.
He knew- from that moment- that he could spend his entire life jumping just as long as Harry would always be there to catch.
And so, it was with that image in mind, the sensation of jumping carelessly into Harry’s arms, that Louis gently placed his hands on Eleanor’s waist. She responded to the touch, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer. He waited for her to open her eyes so that he could look at her and, for the first time since they started this entire affair, tell her the whole, unguarded, raw truth (though Louis was sure she had always-even if only subconsciously- known it).
“Louis, I-“
“I love Harry.” And Louis closed his eyes, almost crying with relief when he saw Harry there, everything Harry, bursting behind his eyelids, coursing through his veins, beating in his heart, reviving his entire being. And then silence. Her hold around Louis grew tighter, “El, you know I do. I always have. I never stopped-I will never stop.”
“But-“she started, breathing deeply, “You and I-we...” He took a deep breath before-
“It was a mistake.” And that’s the first time he’s said it- acknowledged it- because for the month and a half that he had been spending with Eleanor, he was always too big a coward to realise it, to even begin to think of it that way.
But now, with everything wrong and Harry gone, the pain, the bitter taste of what life without Harry would be like shot straight to his core and knocked the sense back into his old, betraying mind.
Because how could he have ever been with anyone but Harry? How could anything not have been about Harry? Everything was Harry. Everything should be Harry. Harry Harry Harry and whereas his mantra earlier had been the heartbreaking ImSorryPleaseHarry now it was the determined, sure, strong beat of Harry Harry Harry and I love you Come back to me Come back home.
Eleanor leaned forward, lips landing on Louis’ damp cheek as he turned away. She started sobbing, mumbling his name, whispering her own apologies and Louis’ heart broke all over again because he never really wanted to hurt anybody and yet, somehow (because he had been a fucking idiot) he had ended up hurting all three of them.
“He said I could keep you,” Eleanor suddenly sobbed, head buried in the crook of Louis’ neck, “He told me I could have you.” Her voice broke and she was whispering it over and over and over again. And Louis’ felt his eyes begin to water again because no-
“He didn’t mean it. He didn’t. Harry couldn’t-“ Eleanor sat up, wiped at her eyes and started pulling something out of her pocket.
“He told me I could keep you and-and he gave me-“ Louis grabbed the key out of her hand and shifted so that he could slide out from under her. Dashing to the kitchen counter, he snatched his phone and dialled Harry’s number.
“Harry, Harry, Harry, Hazza, you idiot.” He started mumbling when the voicemail (he considered himself lucky to have even reached voicemail) instructed him to talk. “You gave her your only key. How are you going to get in now? Hazza, that was your only key. You have only one key.” His voice broke and Louis didn’t bother trying to speak up. Instead he spoke in whispers, lowering his head onto the cool counter to calm himself, “One key, Harry. How are you going to come back? Don’t tell me you’re not because-Harry. Come home, Harry. Please come home, don’t leave me. I love you. I’m sorry. Please, come home. Harry-“
Louis head snapped up in surprise as the sound of the front door slamming shut echoed around the apartment. Racing to the hallway with the phone still against his ear, he managed a slightly hopeful, “HARRY?!” before he realised that no one had come in... Eleanor had just left. Somehow, lacking the sobbing and the gasping for air and the broken whispering, the flat seemed eerily quiet now and Louis had never felt more alone.
“I’ve messed things up, Harry.” Louis whispered to the phone, letting a short, bitter, sarcastic chuckle through his lips, “I’ve really... really fucked things up.” Louis rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his hand. Uncurling his fingers, he looked down at Harry’s key in his palm. He took a deep breath (he found that he’d been doing this a lot lately and it was all he could do, really, to calm himself) before speaking into the phone again.
“But you know what, love?” Louis strode to the coffee table, grabbed his beanie, grabbed the jacket of the back of the couch, grabbed the car keys from the table in the hallway, “I’m going to fix this. Harry, I’m going to make everything good again. I’m coming to find you, okay? Because I love you and-” He paused at the doorway, taking one last look at the empty flat behind him.
“We’re going home.” Louis clicked off his phone and shut the door behind him.
~end of part 2~
Part: 2/?
Pairing: Harry/Louis, Louis/Eleanor
Word Count: 2,725
Rating: PG
Warnings: mentions of sex, mild cursing
Disclaimer: I do not own One Direction (or any of the band members individually), Eleanor and well, you all know the drill.
A/N: i'm sorry it took so long. i had a hard time writing eleanor. i didn't know how i wanted to deal with her but i think i got it down! i'm happy with how this turned out! again, feedback is greatly appreciated! it makes me feel all warm inside! please? :)
Summary: "“You know that’s a lie.” He did know. It was a lie and it was a big lie and it was probably the most painful lie he’d ever tell Harry." It used to be just that: pretend. But then something changed and Harry knew. Harry always knew. He just never talked about it. Until now.
Part 1 is here!
Louis wasn’t sure how long he just sat there with his head bent, knees brought up to his chest, arms wrapped so tightly around himself (he thought that it might help hold him together) but he was acutely aware of the fact that his lungs were burning and he was suffocating against the thick fabric of his jumper. But Louis didn’t want to lift his head, no, because then he would see the apartment and how empty it was and how quiet it was (aside from his own laboured breathing, that is) and it would, undoubtedly, tear him to shreds. And so he kept his head pressed between his knees, sobbing-or gasping, he wasn’t really sure anymore-until cool hands were forcing his head up and shoving his arms out of the way.
“Jesus, Lou,” was the first thing he heard (but it was wrong; muffled and too thick and why did it feel like everything was moving too slow) and he blinked at the mop of curly hair in front of him, his vision blurred, head throbbing. HarryHarryHarry he gasped, whispering softly, chanting the only name left in his vocabulary.
“Breathe, Louis.” He frowned at the command; he was breathing, wasn’t he? He could feel his chest heaving with the effort of relieving his burning lungs.
“No- Louis, shhhh, calm down.” Cool fingers were guiding his head backward until he was leaning on the cushions of the sofa. They ghosted over his face, softly wiping away the sweat on his forehead, pushing back his fringe. He stared at the ceiling as gentle thumbs smoothed over his cheeks, wiping away the tears. One hand drifted towards his chest, settling on his shoulder, fingers curled around his neck as comforting circles were being rubbed against his collarbone. He felt a warm weight settle on his lap and he thought no, don’t, you’re not - shutting his eyes quickly, breathing coming fast again.
“Louis, shhh, please,” she whispered before leaning in to peck his lips lightly. “Please, try to relax.” Louis cringed slightly but her thumb lightly grazed his eyebrows, smoothing them out, erasing the frown from his face. She whispered another soft plea before leaning forward to peck his lips again. Once, twice, a third time- and on the third time, she lingered there, brushing her own lips against his over and over and-
“Please.” Louis whispered and she froze. He finally opened his eyes and found her staring right back at him. “Please, El, just-“ he was cut off as her lips sealed over his and she pushed forward, hands sliding down his torso before gripping the hem of his jumper. She moved fast, using Louis’ shocked state to push deeper into the kiss, tugging his jumper up and-
“Jesus, El-“ Louis breathed, turning his head away from her but she continued to nip and suck a trail down his throat. “Eleanor, stop.” Louis repeated, louder this time, finally lifting his hands to grip her upper arms gently, pushing her away.
“You asked-“ She started, out of breath, and Louis noted how her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were wide.
“I wasn’t asking for that...” He replied softly, shifting a bit as Eleanor settled back down on his lap, knees on either side of his legs. He realised that she thought he was asking for what he always (usually) needed from her-well, no. Not this time. “Actually, I...” He placed his hands on her tiny waist to slowly nudge her and guide her off him. For a fleeting moment she looked offended but then she shook her head and leaned forward to cup his face in her hands again.
“Louis, I-“ she hesitated, shaking her head a bit, “I’m sorry,” Louis almost laughed at that. He had been saying those words so much in the past minutes that it had acquired a painful, bitter tang to it-words that now seemed to mock and taunt him. He hiccupped (still not rid of that post-crying breath hitches) before lifting his hands to slowly hold Eleanor’s hands in his. He lowered them from his face and formally placed them on her lap.
“Please don’t.” He whispered, voice cracking at the end and he wasn’t sure if he was telling her to stop apologising or to stop.... well, everything. He never seemed to be sure about anything with Eleanor but it was never a problem before. She tentatively placed her hand on his thigh, patting it softly.
“It will all get better really soon, I promise.” She smiled and Louis smiled too, looking down at his lap because he knew she meant well but it didn’t mean that she was right. He took deep breaths to calm himself. After what seemed like too long a moment of silence, he finally raised his head again.
“No, Eleanor... it won’t.” He breathed out and he watched her face fall. She moved her hand from his thigh to gently grasp Louis’, intertwining their fingers. He took another deep breath before continuing. “Eleanor, this will never get better. Nothing will ever be able to make this better. I-I won’t get better.”
“You will,” She started to insist, squeezing his hand, leaning forward, all earnest and determined and (Louis noticed) a bit tight around the eyes. “You have me.” She added and Louis laughed shortly, leaning his head back and pulling his hand out from beneath hers to rub at his eyes (noting painfully that the burst of Harry that was always there behind his eyelids had dimmed to an almost cruel glow and he panicked)
“I don’t have him,” He sobbed, broken voice, broken heart, broken everything. “And, El, if I don’t have him then I-“ He felt the now very familiar hot tears begin to spill over his cheeks (had they ever stopped flowing), “I can’t, Eleanor, I can’t not have him. Ever.” Eleanor was shaking her head vigorously now, shuffling forward to straddle him, perching herself on his lap (and Louis thought again-no, don’t, you’re not him-)
“No,” she cupped Louis’ face in her hands, wiping at the tears that Louis seemed unable to control anymore. “You just need time-“
“You don’t understand-”
“No, you don’t understand. Listen to me, this is all just a big shock to you and it just happened so you’re just-you’re reeling from it.” Louis cringed at her choice of words, “But tomorrow things will come into perspective-“
“No-“
“Okay, then!” She threw her arms up exasperatedly, “If not tomorrow then the next day or the day after that or the day after that- Louis, the point is... don’t. Don’t do this. Please. I don’t want to lose you over this.“ Her hands returned to wipe the tears from his face. She rested her forehead against Louis’ own and exhaled deeply. Louis opened his eyes to stare at her, so close, so warm, eyes shut, long lashes fluttering against her cheek and he felt the familiarity and it almost-almost-felt like home.
But then Louis remembered green eyes that would glare at him (but would soon turn soft as soon as he kissed him) and long, thin limbs that were all over the place and tripping over each other and curly hair that would block his view of the television. He remembered the adorable whiskers that came with laughter (more often than not, too loud and not at the right moment) and the husky, deep, lazy voice that would mumble his name and whisper nonsense to him as they slowly drifted off to sleep.
He remembered strong arms and how they kept him in place, held him together, told him where he belonged. He remembered thin, pink lips and how they smirked and smiled and pouted or grimaced and half the time, Louis spent most of his energy on concentrating on not staring at them, reaching for them or just closing the distance between them because he knew how smug Harry’d be later when they were alone.
He remembered tangled blankets and pillows strewn on the floor because Harry moved a lot in his sleep and they were too lazy to fix anything. He remembered notes on foggy bathroom mirrors because Harry was a thoughtful sweetheart and would always leave him notes while he showered (even if most of them were a simple, cheeky “nice bum”). He remembered breakfast set on his plate in the shape of a smiley because even if he denied it, Harry knew how much he loved it. He remembered lazy nights spent perched on the kitchen counter because he loved watching Harry cook (and a cook dressed in only a thin jumper and his boxers was extremely appreciated).
He remembered all the firsts and the thrill of starting something new with a boy he had just met. He remembered the settling down and how calming it felt to be getting into a routine with a boy he loved. He remembered the moment he realised that he loved Harry (it was no big moment, Harry had just simply given him a kiss before leaving the flat and he thought, “when did we become that couple who kisses each other before leaving”). He remembered the first time he told Harry (he had blurted it out right then and there and Harry turned to face him and Louis stood up and went to kiss him and later that night Harry would ask him, as they lay tangled in bed, “Was it because I kissed you before going out?” to which Louis would reply, “No, I love you because you were going out to get me milk” and he would see those whiskers he loved that came with Harry’s little angry cat laugh).
He remembered how painful it was to watch Harry leave, how heavy Louis’ entire body felt as he whispered broken apologies over and over again, how Louis was sure that the crushing pressure on his chest could only be literal heart ache, how he did not even hear the door slamming over his own hoarse scream of Harry’s name, how his mind had never gotten over the image of Harry’s face crumpling into a sob-
And then in the midst of all the heart-wrenching memories and the slow, hot tears, Louis found himself right back on a familiar stage, in a well-known moment of a well-loved memory.
Louis was all high- mind dazed, heart racing and entire being exploding with happiness. Before he knew what he was doing, he was jumping-leaping-into this other boy’s arms and he had a split second of doubt (of what the hell are you doing to who the fuck is this) before he felt warm arms wrap around him, heard whispers of it’s okay, we did it, it’s okay, we’re in, fucking christ, i can’t believe it and at the end of that day, all Louis would remember from that moment was the flash of green that held him and the warm thought that no matter what happened from then on, at least he had gotten one good thing out of it- and that was Harry.
He knew- from that moment- that he could spend his entire life jumping just as long as Harry would always be there to catch.
And so, it was with that image in mind, the sensation of jumping carelessly into Harry’s arms, that Louis gently placed his hands on Eleanor’s waist. She responded to the touch, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer. He waited for her to open her eyes so that he could look at her and, for the first time since they started this entire affair, tell her the whole, unguarded, raw truth (though Louis was sure she had always-even if only subconsciously- known it).
“Louis, I-“
“I love Harry.” And Louis closed his eyes, almost crying with relief when he saw Harry there, everything Harry, bursting behind his eyelids, coursing through his veins, beating in his heart, reviving his entire being. And then silence. Her hold around Louis grew tighter, “El, you know I do. I always have. I never stopped-I will never stop.”
“But-“she started, breathing deeply, “You and I-we...” He took a deep breath before-
“It was a mistake.” And that’s the first time he’s said it- acknowledged it- because for the month and a half that he had been spending with Eleanor, he was always too big a coward to realise it, to even begin to think of it that way.
But now, with everything wrong and Harry gone, the pain, the bitter taste of what life without Harry would be like shot straight to his core and knocked the sense back into his old, betraying mind.
Because how could he have ever been with anyone but Harry? How could anything not have been about Harry? Everything was Harry. Everything should be Harry. Harry Harry Harry and whereas his mantra earlier had been the heartbreaking ImSorryPleaseHarry now it was the determined, sure, strong beat of Harry Harry Harry and I love you Come back to me Come back home.
Eleanor leaned forward, lips landing on Louis’ damp cheek as he turned away. She started sobbing, mumbling his name, whispering her own apologies and Louis’ heart broke all over again because he never really wanted to hurt anybody and yet, somehow (because he had been a fucking idiot) he had ended up hurting all three of them.
“He said I could keep you,” Eleanor suddenly sobbed, head buried in the crook of Louis’ neck, “He told me I could have you.” Her voice broke and she was whispering it over and over and over again. And Louis’ felt his eyes begin to water again because no-
“He didn’t mean it. He didn’t. Harry couldn’t-“ Eleanor sat up, wiped at her eyes and started pulling something out of her pocket.
“He told me I could keep you and-and he gave me-“ Louis grabbed the key out of her hand and shifted so that he could slide out from under her. Dashing to the kitchen counter, he snatched his phone and dialled Harry’s number.
“Harry, Harry, Harry, Hazza, you idiot.” He started mumbling when the voicemail (he considered himself lucky to have even reached voicemail) instructed him to talk. “You gave her your only key. How are you going to get in now? Hazza, that was your only key. You have only one key.” His voice broke and Louis didn’t bother trying to speak up. Instead he spoke in whispers, lowering his head onto the cool counter to calm himself, “One key, Harry. How are you going to come back? Don’t tell me you’re not because-Harry. Come home, Harry. Please come home, don’t leave me. I love you. I’m sorry. Please, come home. Harry-“
Louis head snapped up in surprise as the sound of the front door slamming shut echoed around the apartment. Racing to the hallway with the phone still against his ear, he managed a slightly hopeful, “HARRY?!” before he realised that no one had come in... Eleanor had just left. Somehow, lacking the sobbing and the gasping for air and the broken whispering, the flat seemed eerily quiet now and Louis had never felt more alone.
“I’ve messed things up, Harry.” Louis whispered to the phone, letting a short, bitter, sarcastic chuckle through his lips, “I’ve really... really fucked things up.” Louis rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his hand. Uncurling his fingers, he looked down at Harry’s key in his palm. He took a deep breath (he found that he’d been doing this a lot lately and it was all he could do, really, to calm himself) before speaking into the phone again.
“But you know what, love?” Louis strode to the coffee table, grabbed his beanie, grabbed the jacket of the back of the couch, grabbed the car keys from the table in the hallway, “I’m going to fix this. Harry, I’m going to make everything good again. I’m coming to find you, okay? Because I love you and-” He paused at the doorway, taking one last look at the empty flat behind him.
“We’re going home.” Louis clicked off his phone and shut the door behind him.
~end of part 2~