IM Hurt

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Hello, ladies and *possibly* gentlemen, welcome back. It's come to my attention that a lot of you are pissed at Harry instead of Louis, and that actually surprises me; I thought the opposite would be true. If you were confused and or thrown off by the last chapter, please, allow me to explain. 

Basically, Harry's confession to Louis set him off, to put it simply. Louis' character is impulsive and likes to do as he pleases regardless of the consequences, so through his anger and heartbreak he decided to end the reason that Harry had left him in the first place as a sort of way to get back at Harry for something that was out of his control; his attraction. Harry, on the other hand, is not completely innocent either. He's lead Louis on throughout the story and even without knowledge of the person behind the Anna account was talking to two people at the same time; Louis was getting to see two sides of the same person who he thought he knew so well. Yes, they are best friends, but even best friends can have their fallouts. It's their personalities that steer them to do the things that they do. Louis is both the protagonist and the antagonist in a way, and that's what makes this story so difficult to write. It's not that I'm writing without thought, it's that this is the way it's supposed to happen. Trust me, I know what I'm doing.

Oh, and. I'm doing a sequel. Due to that, I might cut this shorter than I had originally intended just since it won't be ending on the final chapter of this story. 

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Louis realizes he's made a giant mistake.

On stage during one of their shows isn't really a good place to break down again, but Louis isn't sure he can make it another thirty minutes. His head pounds with every scream pulsing through the arena and he can't take it, can't take the stress and the anxiety any longer. Harry is standing all the way across stage from him, and Louis wonders if he's even fazed by the whole incident. He looks as gorgeous as ever, all bright eyes and big smiles. It's as if nothing at all is wrong in his life, and even if he is struggling internally, Louis envies him.

He envies him because he's able to put on such a good fake smile and he envies him because he can still laugh and have fun while Louis feels like he just got run over by a truck, mauled by a bear, struck by lightning and shot in the foot all in the same day. 

He realizes he's lagging behind on his solo and tries to jump onto the bandwagon without blushing too hard, but he fails; he can't concentrate. Harry is everywhere, he's in Louis' head, his heart, and he's clouding his vision; Louis can't wait to see what the rest of the world takes Louis intently staring Harry down as. 

By the time the show is over and Louis can finally see straight ahead without lights flashing in his eyes, he's absolutely exhausted and in need of a hug, really. Except no one really wants to hug Louis because everyone with the exception of Liam is too angry with him to speak. 

It seems almost unfair, because Liam is the only one who knew about Harry and Louis' small fling and therefore the reason Louis revealed his true identity, but Liam is too busy with Harry to notice Louis' needs. 

He feels so small.

He feels insignificant and crushed, like he could disappear off the face of the earth and no one would notice. He wonders if Harry feels the same way, but then he remembers that Zayn, Niall, Harry, and everyone else who had caught word of the truth had formed a 'We Hate Louis' club, so that probably wasn't the case.

The Anna account had been deleted that morning by a reluctant Louis, who stared at his phone as the app vanished from the screen and then proceeded to launch it at the wall, burying his face in his hands and just breathing. It seemed to be the only thing he could do that he wouldn't mess up.

What a way to treat someone you love, he knows, but it's too late for that now. Harry will never love him back, not now that he doesn't trust Louis. Louis would be lucky if he ever uttered a single syllable to him again. He wishes he could return some of the anger Harry felt toward him, but he just couldn't. He was too sad to be angry and too guilty to think he had the right to feel anything at all. 

He doesn't eat for an entire day and his stomach feels like it's curling in on itself along with the rest of Louis' body. He's too sad to eat. He's too sad to move.

But really, he just wishes Harry had never joined that damn website. 

After hours of wallowing in self-pity, Louis decides he's had enough. While they're stopped in Barcelona, Louis makes the choice to go and make the most of Spain before the group leaves and heads to North America in a few days. He checks with security and Paul before he slides into a pair of skinny jeans, pulls a random shirt over his head, messily fixes his fringe and slides some shoes on his feet along with a jacket and a hotel room key and wanders into the nearest club.

He's got a few people with him just to make sure no crazy fans or bloodthirsty paparazzi decide to agressively attack Louis, but they keep their distance and for the most part Louis is alone. It's nice, he believes, and throws his head back as he takes shot after shot. It might not be good, but it's nice.

A tall girl with annoyingly long blonde hair and bright blue eyes stumbles into Louis later as he's swaying in place in a less crowded part of the club, hoping he could be overlooked by anyone who might recognize him. She doesn't seem drunk, because she immediately apologizes and asks Louis at least four times if he's okay. She's coincidentally got a British accent and Louis is overwhelmed by her the second she looks him in the eye because this girl is practically Anna and he barely makes it to the restroom before he's sick enough to make his throat burn.

The girl can't seem to take a hint, Louis thinks, because she's followed him into the restroom with a look of concern printed across her face as Louis washes his hands and gurgles with cold water. 

"Are you alright? Do you need a ride home? If you want, I can call someone," she bites her lip and hesitantly reaches a hand out to place on Louis' shoulder; he's too weak to push it away.

"No.. I've got them," Louis slurs, nearly falling over as he takes a step forward; luckily for him, Scary Anna Look-A-Like is there to catch his intoxicated body before he does, "S-security. 'side.. waiting."

"You're.. you're Louis, aren't you?" she asks quietly, as if she's trying not to startle Louis. 

"Yeah, but, you can call me Anna," he laughs, shoving his hand out for her to shake; she obliges with a blank stare. She's probably trying to figure out what the hell Louis' problem is. Louis doesn't blame her.

"What are you doing here; how much have you had to drink? You poor boy, you can't even stand up straight," she croons and Louis allows this stranger to pet at him sympathetically, smoothing down his hair and zipping up his jacket over his now sick-stained shirt.

"Just wanted to have fun for once," Louis whimpers pathetically as the girl starts to gently pull him from the restroom and through the club until they're outside. Cool night air hits Louis' face and he sighs in relief, leaning against a wall and staring at his hands.

"My name is Eve, by the way," she smiles as someone from Louis' team rudely asks her to leave. 

"I'd ask for your number, but.. threw my phone at a wall," Louis explains apologetically, but he's not sure how clear the words come out. He thinks he might have forgotten how to pronounce the letter A.

Eve chuckles, pulling a small unused tissue and a pen from her handbag - who carries around tissues and pens in handbags? - and after scribbling onto it, tucks it into Louis' jacket pocket as he's ushered into a car that hopefully will take him back to the hotel. 

As they drive away, Eve's body and little black dress get smaller and smaller and Louis realizes he never even asked why she was there in the first place.

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