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//You and I walk a fragile line, I have known it all this time.//
The thing about Harry and Louis' relationship was that it was tense. It always was. Harry was this twenty one year old punk kid involved with the underground scene and Louis was a record shop owner who got dragged to that under ground scene by his best friend.
Louis is pretty sure that's why he was drawn to Harry in the first place. Maybe it was the fact that he always drank a beer before he got into the ring, or the fact that he looked so fucking hot kicking someone else's ass. It could be the fact that after the fight he got high and partied hard after a win. Something about Harry roped Louis in and strapped him down and wouldn't let go.
//It's getting dark and its all too quiet and I can't trust anything now.//
The thing about their fights is that they were always explosive. Because Harry was explosive. He threw things - objects and words. Somehow they got through all those fights. Because maybe Harry was on a post-fight high, or maybe he was literally high, maybe he was coming down from a high. Mostly the fights happened after Harry got out of the ring, because that's when he's at his most confrontational. The fights would be petty but Harry, in his post-fight state of mind, would blow them up.
Either way, Louis was helping Harry bandage up his fists at the end of each one.
//And it's coming over you like it's all a big mistake.//
There was only one time Harry hit Louis. That time he was high, and that time Louis was out of line.
Harry got into fighting for a reason. As a kid he never had it good. Ever. All that pent up rage had to go somewhere. So he got himself involved in the underground scene. And he hasn't looked back. Louis stuck his finger in the bullet hole Harry already had and pressed on that terrible childhood.
//Oh, I'm holding my breath.//
Louis stopped coming to fights. He couldn't stand seeing Harry in that mindset. So instead he sits at home watching TV show reruns just waiting for the call from Harry's best friend Liam that something bad has happened.
//Won't lose you again.//
There was one fight that Harry lost. The guy was way bigger than him, and Harry couldn't have won even if he tried. And, fuck, he did try. But he got knocked out and Liam was worried he wouldn't get back up. The thing is, Louis didn't even know that Harry had gone down because nobody fucking called him.
That was a big fight, this time Louis with the anger.
//Something's made your eyes go cold.//
Looking back on it, if Louis could have, he would have stopped Harry from fighting. He would've gotten him off the drugs and the fights and they could have had a beautiful life.
Except, there was something about the look in Harry's eyes when he came home after a big win. Also something about the mind blowing sex they had after big wins.
It's safe to say Louis was attracted to the danger Harry brought with him.
//Come on, come on don't leave me like this.//
Louis remembers it clearly, this one time they went out for dinner. It was late at night (they'd ended up hanging around the restaurant long after they'd finished eating) when they left. Louis waited for Harry to bring the car around front. While he was there these guys, apparently whom Harry had fought (and beaten) in the past, came around.
If Harry hadn't come back with the car something bad would have happened. Something very bad. Instead Harry just got a few punches in and that was it.
They didn't speak on the ride home.
//Something's gone terribly wrong.//
It was that night that Harry suggested Louis leave him. Because it was dangerous and he didn't want Louis getting hurt.
Louis couldn't fucking do it.
Harry told him that this wasn't how it was supposed to be and that Louis shouldn't have to deal with it.
//Can't breathe whenever you're gone.//
Harry was the one who left. Louis still, to this very day, doesn't know where Harry went that night.
All he remembers from that night is how he felt. The second Harry walked out the door, Louis felt nothing. Then he realized Harry wasn't coming back.
It felt like someone had thrown him off the deep end into this never ending body of water. Louis was the only one in it and he was thrashing and struggling and trying to get to the surface but he was just too deep and he couldn't breathe.
Louis legitimately could not breathe that night. He fought to breathe in this never ending body of water for a long time before he finally gave up.
He woke up to Harry.
//Stood there and watched you walk away from everything we had.//
One week to the day after that first fight, Harry told him it was over for good. Louis vividly remembers watching Harry gather his stuff in a duffle bag and head out the door without looking at Louis again.
//But I still mean every word I said to you.//
The first week without Harry there Louis did a lot of self-pitying and reminiscing. He has this one particular memory of a trip to upstate New York. It was one of the rare occasions where Harry went a weekend without fighting. They had a lot of sex and ate a lot of food and went on a lot of walks and took a lot of pictures and talked a lot about the future.
They must have exchanged two thousand 'I love you's' that trip. They said I love you through the touches and the glances and the laughs and jokes and pictures taken when they assumed the other wasn't looking, it wasn't just the words. Honestly, Louis liked the touches and glances and stuff a lot more than the words.
//He will try to take away my pain and he just might make me smile.//
Two weeks after Harry left, Zayn dragged Louis out to hit the streets of NYC to find a club.
Louis ended up hooking up with a guy in a grimy club bathroom, and if he was thinking about Harry the entire time, the guy doesn't have to know.
//Oh, I'm holding my breath, won't see you again.//
During the third week without Harry, Louis found a box under the bed. It had a bunch of letters inside, all labeled with Harry's handwriting. For when I'm out late. For when your favourite character on TV dies. For when I take you for granted. For when you take me for granted (as if). They go on and on. Louis didn't even know they were there.
Louis feels like he can't breathe again. He's thrown back into that endless body of water. This time he doesn't try to fight it.
//Something keeps me holding onto nothing.//
The record shop was boring and Louis hated it very much. One day, five weeks post-Harry, a customer brought up a Fleetwood Mac album (Harry's favourite one, mind you) and Zayn had to help the guy because Louis felt like he was fucking drowning again.
When he went home Louis put on that same Fleetwood Mac album on full blast and sat on the floor and read the letter that said to read when you really miss me.
//I thought I had you figured out.//
Three months after Harry walked away Louis finally sees word of him. On social media. Harry Styles Takes A Hit. There it was, on a loop. Harry didn't get back up for a long time.
Louis is physically pained by that video. Silly of him to think that maybe Harry could get himself out of that scene.
//I just know you're not gone. You can't be gone.//
Six months to the day Harry left Louis reads another letter. He found it in the bottom of a dresser drawer. to read if I ever break your heart.
Louis put on some Ed Fucking Sheeran and started reading.
'Louis,
If you're reading this something bad has happened. If we're broken up I'm assuming it's over the fighting. I'm sorry I couldn't get it together for you. I really, really wanted to try for you.
I want you to find someone else, okay? Forget all about me and my bad habits. Also stop fucking smoking. It's bad for you. Christ, I shouldn't be talking about stuff being bad for you, should I?
Don't worry about me. You don't worry about me anymore. I know that for you to love me hurt like hell, and I want you to know that it's okay for you to let go.
Thank you for what we had.'
And, finally, for the first time in a long time, Louis breathes properly.
SIX MONTHS LATER.
One year to the day. The record shop is booming and Louis is genuinely happy.
He's sitting by watching TV when the door bell rings. Louis gets up and opens it.
There stands Harry, hair pulled back into a bun with a bag in his hand and a bruise fading on his cheekbone. "Hi." he says.
Louis breathes.