She’s probably just really busy. All the time. She’s not ignoring you. She doesn’t owe it to you to stay at home all of the time. And you’ve only called her several times, so calm down. It’s not big, his voice of reason insisted. He tried desperately to push this logic to the frontal lobe of his brain, but his emotional one begged to differ.
It’s been a month since she first missed your phone call. And she has a cell phone now — she got it especially for you. She probably found somebody else to love, someone who’s there all of the time and can tell her how wonderful she is and be there for her—not like you. The last time you saw her was three months ago, and you can barely ever find time to call—God, you’re such a twat.
He threw his iPhone across the room, not caring where it landed. His head dropped angrily into his large hands, the slim fingers pressing viciously into his scalp as he worked a circular motion into them.
“Shit, Haz, what’s wrong?” came the concordantly rough voice he had come to love. Louis sat next to him on the bed, his hair wet and only a towel wrapped around his waist. He laid a comforting hand on Harry’s back and rubbed it reassuringly.
Harry hissed a sigh. “She still hasn’t answered her fucking phone,” He let out a pathetic groan. “I haven’t even done anything wrong,”
“You sure about that?” Louis countered. “Girls usually can think of a few things—”
“Christ’s sake Louis, I haven’t! I’ve been calling her as often as possible, and I even wrote her a poem, and—”
“You wrote her a poem?” Louis scoffed. “And fans call me the gay one.”
Harry reluctantly chuckled, lowly and throatily, at this. He shrugged now and looked into the cerulean eyes of his friend. “I just don’t know what to do, Louis. It’s tearing me up.”
A seething resentment burned through Louis at the pitiful state his friend was in. Who did this Cerise girl think she was to toy with Harry? She better not be screwing him over.
“Hey, it’ll be okay,” Louis whispered into Harry’s hair as the younger boy curled into Louis’ arms. “There’s definitely a good reason for this.” He choked out the last sentence with heavy reluctance. “She’s—she’s a good girl.”
Good girl my ass, the cheating slut. Louis’ conscience proposed, but Louis merely murmured a “yes” when Harry asked if he really thought so.
“Now go to bed, you tosser,” Louis ordered, prying off the Cheshire lad with a sympathetic smile. Harry chortled and settled into the sheets, needing no further prompting to fall into a well-needed slumber.
It took three minutes. Louis had made a bet with himself that it would be five, but he was pleased nonetheless that Harry had fallen asleep so quickly. Swiftly, he picked up the iPhone from the shag carpet and sneaked outside of the room with it firmly gripped in his hand, determined to confront the two-timing girl before she hurt Harry any more than she already had.
The phone ringed for a few seconds before the familiar voice picked it up with a hesitated word of greeting.
“I need to know why you’ve been ignoring his calls.” Louis demanded without a word of hello.
“I—haven’t,” she stammered on the other line. She mentally told herself that he couldn’t see her distress and her nerves calmed down a little.
