Forbidden Love [Larry Stylinson]

Chapter 17

"Ugh, I'm so tired." Liam sighs as he plops down onto the couch.

"Me too." Niall huffs. The day itself was not long or tiring, but all of us are still exhausted from the night before.

"What time is it?" I ask the boys.

"Almost 4:00," Harry answers, "is anyone hungry?" Niall is the first to answer, surprise, surprise. I side with Niall, as I am just now realizing that all I ate today was a bowl of cereal. All of us eventually agree on ordering pizza, because it's quick and delicious. After Liam orders the pizzas, we all lay on the couches in mine and Harry's place and go on our phones. Harry and I have avoided social media all day, and we're silently praying that management has, too. Niall and Zayn are looking at funny pictures on Instagram, and Liam is scrolling through Twitter and tweeting to fans. When I look over at Harry who is sitting to my left, he looks like he's lost in thought, staring into space, lips pursed and eyebrows furrowed. I set my phone down and move closer to him.

"Hey love." I say as I lovingly wrap my arm around his shoulders. Harry mumbles incoherent words in response, not taking his gaze away from the coffee table in front of us. "Talk to me, baby boy." I gently plead. Niall coos at the nickname I give Harry, but I ignore him and focus on my upset boyfriend. Just as Harry opens his mouth to speak, his phone rings.

"Shit." Harry curses.

"Who is it?" I ask.

"Management." I look over to the boys, who all have worried looks on their faces. Harry and I quickly lock eyes before he rushes into our bedroom to answer the call.

"Should someone go with Harry?" I ask as I stand up, silently volunteering myself.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Louis. If he didn't wanna take the call alone, he wouldn't have left the room." Niall says. I sigh, knowing he's right, and resume my position on the couch. Minutes pass, and after what seems like hours, Harry still hasn't returned yet. I anxiously begin to bite my nails, which is a bad habit I've picked up along with smoking. Harry hates when I bite my nails or smoke, because he knows I only do it when I'm anxious.

"Fuck!" Harry's muffled voice carries through our closed bedroom door. I start contemplating whether or not I should check on him because the boys think Harry "needs to answer the call alone". I start to get up, but Zayn stops me.

"Lou, don't. He can handle it." Zayn tries to convince me. I almost believe him, until I hear a loud crash.

"Fuck it." I murmur before jumping up and running straight for the bedroom. As soon as I open the door, I see Harry's phone on the floor along with the comforter that belongs on our bed. "Harry..." I call, trying to gather up every last calm bone in my body. After looking around the room for where Harry could be, I notice that the bathroom door is shut. I quietly knock on the door as not to aggravate or startle Harry. "Hazza, are you alright baby?" I gently call. No answer. I try knocking again, but slightly louder just in case Harry didn't hear my knocking the first time.

"Go away!" Harry shouts in a deep voice from the bathroom. I am slightly taken back at Harry's response because he sounds enraged; he is almost never angry, but when he is, it's not a fun time. I take a deep breath and think of how to respond to his fury.

"Harry," I say in a more stern voice, "please let me in." There is a moment of silence before Harry's deep and raspy voice loudly fills the air.

"What do you want?" He huffs.

"Let me in and I'll make it all better." I say in a comforting tone.

"There's nothing you can do to fix it." It dawns on me that I never tried to open the door; I guess I assumed it was locked. Testing my luck, I grab the door handle and twist it. I smile contently as the door knob twists all the way to the right, signifying that it's unlocked. I cautiously open the door to meet my now silent boyfriend. What I see when I open the door made my jaw drop; the mirror above the sink is shattered, with shards of glass in the sink, on the counter, and scattered across the floor. There are also drops of blood on the sink and on the floor. Oh no. I quickly look away from the blood to avoid getting queasy and look over at Harry. Harry is pacing at the opposite side of the bathroom, as blood continues to drip onto the floor from his right hand. I connect the dots and realize Harry must have gotten mad and punched the mirror. That most likely explains why his phone and our comforter are on the floor, too. I cautiously walk over to the cabinet next to the broken mirror and, trying my best not to step on any shards of glass, grab a towel and the first aid kit.

"Harry," I start, "will you let me clean you up? Your hand must be hurting." Harry stops pacing and peers at me with dark and puffy eyes.

"I'm fine, Lou." Harry sneers, clenching his jaw.

"Baby, you're not, you're bleeding." I say in a gentle tone to combat his aggressive one.

"I fucking said I'm fine!" Harry snaps as he tangles his fingers in his hair, getting blood in his brown curls. I try to swallow the lump in my throat and blink hard to stop tears from forming. Harry must see that I'm close to crying because he lets go of his hair and frustratingly rubs his face before walking toward me. "Louis, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"No, it's fine, ju-just give me your hand." I murmur, cutting Harry off. Harry complies and I observe the damage; his knuckles are bleeding and starting to bruise, and there are little shards of glass embedded in his skin. I frown at him, and he ducks his head in sadness and slight embarrassment. "We have to go to the downstairs bathroom, there's glass everywhere up here."

"I'm sorry, Lou. If you heard what they were saying..." He trails as he starts to clench his jaw again.

"Don't worry, we'll deal with it later. Right now, I just want to clean you up, darling. Let's go downstairs now, yeah?" Harry nods his head in agreement, and I hold his bloody hand in the towel firmly as we head downstairs.

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