Harry's POV
It felt slightly cool on my skin, the warmth of a second body absent from the bed. I sleepily patted the covers around me, expecting to find Louis. When I discovered emptiness, the events of the previous evening came flooding back. The alcohol, the shouting, the fear and bruising on my boy's face. But my resilience towards him seemed to melt away as Louis clung to me in sleep, my fingers curling around his to stop the nightmares.
I shot up, squinting with the light infiltrating the room from between my curtains. My heart was pounding, eyes darting around the space in an effort to seek him out. The duvet was shoved back, stumbling from the bed and over to the bathroom door.
I regretted shouting at him, regretted frightening him.
My knuckles made contact with the wood, allowing only a couple of desperate seconds to pass before abruptly swinging the door open. Where the hell was he? He wouldn't have just left.
I was angry and intoxicated; Louis's decision not to inform me of his visitor at work was something I couldn't understand. How was I supposed to keep him safe if he didn't tell me anything? When I saw his face the previous evening I knew what Dan had told me was true. The cocky bastard almost took pleasure in informing me that he was the one that had come to Louis's rescue. I had no desire to dwell on the thought of what might have happened.
I swept my hair from my forehead, continuing my determined stride down the hall to the kitchen, hoping to find Louis. Empty. My feet carried me to the open door of the living room. Fingers grasped the frame, peering in. I was about to turn when a flash of dark waves caught my eye. He was sat on the window sill, knees curled up to his chest as he observed the world go by through the glass. His small hands clasped around a mug as he brought it up to his lips, sipping on the liquid.
Louis must have caught me in his peripheral vision, his head snapping around in shock. The fullness of his blue eyes decreased slightly upon locking on mine. His face still looked sore, lip split, bruising on his jaw. My beautiful broken boy.
"I made you one...a tea." He stuttered, shaking his head.
My eyes absorbed his appearance, recognizing the plaid shirt adorning his torso, it was mine.
"It's probably cold now though." Louis continued. "I-I didn't want to wake you."
When I remained silent his focus fell to the cuff of the shirt, fiddling with it anxiously. All I wanted to do was cuddle him, but for some reason I couldn't bring myself to move forward. I'd heard him cry for an unbearable amount of time the previous evening, tears wetting my chest as he sobbed. But I could do nothing. Louis continually threw me curve balls, but the last one was quite unexpected. Why hadn't he told me?
"Thanks." I spoke quietly.
***
Louis' POV
This was getting ridiculous. It had been two days since our confrontation. I thought Harry would have wanted to take a break for a little while, as his communication with me was bare minimum. So to say I was surprised when his car was waiting for me outside of work the next day was an understatement. We drove back to his flat in silence; I knew he wanted to keep watch over me.
Dan had been absent from the shop, confirming my suspicions that he was too cowardly to face me. He'd gone behind my back and told Harry exactly what had happened against my will. But I refused to deal with him, I had enough on my plate with the curly haired boy who found it difficult to meet my eye contact.
I'd grown tired of Harry's immature behavior. Yes, I'd withheld information from him, but this was silly. He'd keep me safely locked away in his flat and yet couldn't find it within himself to talk to me properly. So I decided to handle the situation myself, I wasn't going to be ignored. And if it meant having the inevitable argument, I would take it, anything not to have to endure another day of tiptoeing around the subject.
