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Harry stood at the kitchen sink, his entire body still trembling from the panic attack that had dragged him from a sound sleep. He lifted the glass of water with a shaking hand and took another sip, his throat tightening against the well of emotions that threatened to drown him. Tears still stained his cheeks, the skin tight from where they’d dried.
It had been ten days since he moved into Louis’ flat. While in the grand scheme of things, changing residence wasn’t anything to get excited about, for Harry it had been momentous. For the first time in three years he’d made a decision that was wholly his own, not weighed against someone else’s reactions or input. Even Zayn’s attempts to dissuade him had fallen on deaf ears. He needed to take control of his life again. Accepting Louis’ offer was the first time he’d felt like he’d made a move in the right direction.
His stomach rumbled, likely due to the fact that he’d thrown up his dinner with the recurring waves of anxiety that had roiled through him. If he even managed to get back to sleep, doing so on an empty stomach would only guarantee a repeat in the morning. Opening the refrigerator, he stared into its contents, looking for anything bland that wouldn’t sit adversely. With every nerve already on edge, he felt Louis’ presence in the hallway seconds before he entered the kitchen.
“Harry?” Louis whispered sleepily. “You okay? Trouble sleeping in a new place?”
The light from the fridge washed across the room, it’s soft glow illuminating the concern in Louis’ azure eyes. Feathery shadows danced on his cheeks, and why had he never noticed how thick Louis’ lashes are? He shook his head at the errant thought, closing the fridge door without finding anything to eat.
“‘m fine.” Harry’s voice sounded thick, phlegmy, and he prayed Louis wouldn’t notice. “Needed a snack… and uhm... a drink.” He opened the cupboard and grabbed a box of crackers, hoping Louis would accept his answer and let it go.
No such luck.
Louis spoke again, his voice softer. “If you need to talk, I’m told I’m a good listener.”
“It’s late. We both have to work tomorrow…”
“Actually, it’s very early, and we’re already awake.” Louis touched the side of the kettle, then flipped the switch. He nodded toward the table with a raised eyebrow, as if inviting Harry to sit.
Harry complied, opening the box of crackers and thoughtfully nibbling on one. While he’d become accustomed to acquiescing in order to keep peace with Aiden, it didn’t feel like that with Louis. Harry looked up when Louis’ shadow fell across the thin sliver of moonglow shimmering through the window. He accepted the proffered cup, wrapping both hands around its comforting warmth. Louis took the seat across from him, setting his own cup on the table. They sat, sipping their tea, the hum of the refrigerator and quiet tick of a clock the only sounds in the room. The silence was companionable, not oppressive, and Harry felt his anxiety and tension slowly ease, melting away under the quiet concern exhibited by his flatmate.
Louis shifted and moved his empty cup away. With a soft cough, he cleared his throat. He lifted his hand toward Harry, then pulled back, as if thinking better of it. Instead, he stood and rested a consoling hand on Harry’s shoulder. “If you don’t want to talk, I respect that. But... sometimes it helps to put it out in the universe. My mum says a problem shared is a problem halved.” He moved toward the door, his actions obviously backing up his willingness to respect Harry’s choice to remain silent.
Suddenly bereft, a small sob escaped Harry’s throat. “Why wasn’t I enough?”
Louis paused, seemingly unsure of his next words. He sighed and stopped, leaning against the doorframe before answering. “This isn’t on you, Harry. This falls squarely on Aiden, and you shouldn’t excuse him and take all the blame on yourself.” Louis returned to the table and sat back down. “Look, I don’t know everything about your situation. I’m also not gonna lie, I was never a fan of Grimshaw, but my reasons for that are personal and hold no bearing on your relationship with him, and are tied to things I think are better left unsaid right now. Regardless, what he did, the way he left - it wasn’t right. You deserved better. Hell, anyone would have deserved better than what happened.”
Harry stared at the table, tears streaming unchecked, his eyes sore and likely bloodshot. A faint niggling of something Zayn had once said about Louis’ dislike of Aiden teased the edges of his mind, but he couldn’t grasp the thread of thought under the weight of his distress. Vowing to chase it down when he wasn’t worn to the bone, he fought to calm himself.
“But… ”
“There are no buts here, Harry.” Louis shifted his chair closer, taking Harry’s hands in his. “Relationships need communication. They need honesty. Most of all, they need trust. In the end, Aiden couldn’t give you the most basic courtesy of even saying goodbye, much less any of that other stuff. So no, don’t take on that burden.” Louis squeezed Harry’s hands, drawing his attention to Louis. Sincerity filled Louis’ eyes, his voice calm, measured, determined. “There is not a doubt in my mind you were enough. However, my reiterating that to you every day isn’t going to convince you of the truth. You need to, when you’re ready, objectively look at your relationship and realize where the failings were. Definitely, own your part in it,” Louis paused and took a breath, his next words tentative, “but also acknowledge that you weren’t alone. It takes two people to build a strong relationship, and I have a feeling, in retrospect, you’ll realize that only one of you was actually doing the work.”
Harry slid one of his hands free, turning his face into his sleeve to wipe his eyes. He knew he must look like absolute shite, but he felt lighter, as if a weight had shifted.
“You good?”
Harry nodded and let go of Louis’ other hand. Louis stood and slowly pushed his chair under the table, then took his cup to the sink and rinsed it out, before placing it on the draining board. Each move appeared slow and deliberate, almost as if he debated saying something else. Instead, he moved toward the door again.
“I’m sorry if I woke you.” Harry focused on his cup, not meeting Louis’ steady gaze when he turned.
“You didn’t, and I wouldn’t have minded if you had. Like I said, I’m a good listener.” Louis gestured toward his room. “Feel free to knock if you need me.”
“Just don’t enter without socks, “Harry added, in a weak attempt to lighten the mood.
“I’ll Hoover tomorrow, just to make sure it’s safe in the future.” Louis replied with a laugh. “Get some sleep, Harry. Daylight has an amazing way of putting a new perspective on things.”
And he was gone.
Harry sat another minute, ate a couple more crackers, then stood and returned the box to the cupboard. He set his cup in the sink, then picked up the glass from his water and refilled it. He walked quietly down the hallway, pausing at Louis’ door. He rested a hand on the wood surface, whispered a soft “thank you”, then continued on to his own room.
With an exhausted sigh, he set the glass on his night table, then moved across the room to open his window. A cold blast of fresh air filled the room, the clean scent of rain on concrete accompanying it. He adjusted the opening, breathing deeply, then crawled back into bed. His chest still hurt, his hands still trembled, he should have washed his face, and his stomach still rolled - residual effects of his earlier attack. Nonetheless, sleep came quickly, and for the first time in weeks, he didn’t feel lonely.
After all, if Harry needed him, Louis was just down the hall.