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    Summary

    “Kinda feels like it is, though. And it’s okay to be pissed at me because of that,” Louis' voice was still the normal feathery sweetness Harry was used to, but it had a harshness to it that he couldn’t place until he looked up and met Louis’ eyes. There was so much pain exposed for Harry to see, for him to be able to pick at, taunt or ignore.

    Louis was sitting right there, allowing Harry to see all the broken pieces, the sharp edges that had never been mended back together with the love and kindness they needed. In that moment, Harry saw his own pain reflected back at him in Louis’ eyes. He could feel bits of his own heart calling out for him to reach out and allow the two battered hearts to heal together as one.

    “It’s not. I’m not… I’m really not,”

     

    or, a chicago-inspired story about lost dreams, unjust fates, undying love and lots of pizza, repressed feelings, cute kids and, of course, cats

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