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Harry doesn’t remember the pain.
(But that is a lie, because he can recall every second of that phone call.)
Harry understands.
(He nodded numbly and said he understood. He didn’t understand. Hadn’t things been going fine?)
~*~
“Harry, I’m busy okay, I can’t.”
“Lou, it’s our 6-month anniversary.
“I’m sorry, I can’t, I love you baby, always, but I need to go. I’m really sorry. Class starts in 20.”
“I- I love you too. Bye Lou.”
~*~
The phone call hadn’t actually been that bad, not at first. Louis was busy, he had so many classes. He loved what he did. Being an English TA for the top English class was all he had ever wanted to do at Uni.
It was hard, though. Busy.
Harry only saw him at night and in the morning.
That was alright. Harry cooked breakfast and Louis dashed into the kitchen wearing his favorite jumper and wrap his arms around Harry’s back. He would reach around Harry and take the plate of eggs that were always prepared first. He’d inhale the eggs and Harry would sit with his toast and watch Louis, smiling softly at his little ball of sunshine in the jumper with the red polka dots around the border, who everyday tried to eat eggs and drink orange juice simultaneously.
That was alright.
Harry would take Louis’ dishes and wash them all while louis ran back into their room and grabbed his laptop and books. Louis would run back through the kitchen, this time with his bag full of essentials for the day, and grab Harry’s hand, leading him to the car. And then Louis would drive them to Uni (and this is why Harry always packed his bag in the night, storing it in the car so he wouldn’t have worry about it in the morning).
That was alright too.
But then Harry would take the bus home, open the door to an empty and silent flat, would slowly walk through the rooms, turning on lights in a vain attempt to convince himself that there was more than just Harry in the house. Except, there wasn’t. It was just Harry until night, almost 10, when he was sitting on their light brown couch doing homework, that Louis would open the door and flop on their couch next to Harry, dropping his bags on the floor.
(“Ughhh”
“What’s wrong Lou?” Harry would ask, wrapping his arm around Louis’ shoulders.
“That one kid who always overdoes it, wrote an eighteen page essay. I have to grade the fucking thing by next Monday.”
Harry made a sympathetic noise, leaning down to kiss Louis’ head. “M’sorry babe.”
“Whatever, really.”)
That wasn’t so right.
Because Harry spent too much time by himself and Louis spent too much time tired and busy.They didn’t have enough time for harryandlouis.
So that was the problem.
~*~
The phone call came fairly early, about half past six. Harry was just getting out of the shower, having worked out at the Uni gym for almost 2 hours. It wasn’t often that Harry had that much time, so he took advantage of it every chance he had.
Stepping out of the shower, he grabbed the pale blue towel that he had claimed as soon as Louis had unpacked all those weeks ago, scrubbed at his hair and then wrapped it around his waist. On his way to their bedroom, he heard the home phone ring. Detouring, he grabbed the phone.
“Hello?” he said, absently shutting the bedroom door behind him, starting toward the closet.
“Hey Harry,” Louis replied. Harry frowned. There was something in Louis’ voice that Harry didn’t like, a reluctance that worried him.
“You okay?” he asked, one hand on the door of their closet.
“Um... I guess not, really. We need to talk Harry,” Louis said, voice growing stronger by the end of his sentence. Harry knew that voice. It was Louis’ I’m strong and I need everyone to know it, the voice he used when people hurt him or when he was covering things up. He hated that voice.
“Louis, what’s wrong.” Harry said, more of a statement than a question.
Harry heard Louis breathe deeply, noise crackling through the phone line. He didn’t reply.
“Why can’t you just tell me whatever this is at home?” Harry asked. He gave up on getting clothes, more worried about this thing with Louis.
Louis sighed. “Harry...I think we need a break.”
Harry sucked in a breath quickly. “What?” It felt as though his stomach had dropped and disappeared within the span of that one sentence.
Louis sighed deeply again. Harry was starting to hate the crackling noise that came with the action. “It’s just... I’m really busy Harry, and we aren’t spending any time together and I don’t even know if what we have is really love anymore, I just say it as a habit from when I was was positive I loved you more than anyone, you know?” Louis asked.
Harry didn’t know. That wasn’t love. Love was sticking together through the hard times.
“Lou... you said always.” Harry tried to ignore the way his voice shattered at the end, the way the words tumbled out of his mouth, but the words seemed to be squeezing him around the neck, taut and gripping.
“I know, I know, I sound like a total dick, but this isn’t working, please try to understand. I hate doing this, I don’t want to but-,” Louis’ voice faded into a muffled background. Harry felt like a victim of his own mind, ruthlessly playing through memory after memory of him and Louis.
(Louis giggled, the sound high, almost high enough to break the calm air of the grounds.
Harry watched from across the green, watched the pretty little boy with the caramel hair and striped scarf laugh at something the brown haired boy next to him said. Harry hadn’t really known Louisa that point, granted, but he wanted to. He wanted the breathtaking boy with the small, sockless feet.
Except why would someone as whole as Louis want a little worthless kid like Harry?
Still, Harry made an effort. A week later, Louis was walking out of the English department head’s office, clutching a small stack of papers and smiling very softly to himself. Harry himself had left the English department after his English Lit class less than 10 minutes ago, but had stopped to sit on the edge of the pillar for a bit, realizes with a smile that his next class was in an hour and he had time to just sit and breathe.
He looked up as Louis exited the building. Steeling himself, Harry walked over to Louis.
Lightly tapping his shoulder, Harry waited until Louis glanced up at him with a curious smile. “Hey,” Harry said quietly, eyes focused on Louis’ mouth, thin, pretty lips. waiting for a response. Louis smiled, eyes crinkling minutely.
“Hey mate, Harry is it?” he asked. Harry’s eyes widened.
“H-how do you even know me?” he asked, green eyes huge in his face. Louis thought he’d never seen a prettier face.
“You’re in my Biology class, right?” Harry nodded in response, slightly in shock that Louis had noticed him.
They walked to the nearby Starbucks and drank the fanciest drinks on the menu, at Louis’ request. They exchanged numbers and that was that.)
Louis’ voice broke through Harry’s little jog down memory lane. “Harry?” he asked. Harry put the phone on speaker, placed it on the bed. His silence apparently told Louis that he wasn’t going to respond (although the real reason was Harry didn’t trust his voice. He wanted to at least put up a strong front- no matter how fake it was.)
Louis hummed dully. “Okay. Okay. Well. I guess that’s all?” His voice rose at the end, making it a question. Harry hear Louis’ silent plea for him to say something, do anything. He couldn’t. Harry didn't think he could speak if his life depended on it. Harry wrapped his arms around his torso, willing himself to stay together, not to break completely.
Louis sighed resignedly. “I hope you don’t hate me, Haz,” he said softly. The line clicked and Harry’s phone shut off.
Haz.
Harry hadn’t noticed until now, but that was the first time Louis had called him that throughout the entire phone call. It shattered Harry’s last wall of his emotion-less state.
He sat down on the bed, hard. He felt lost, confused.
He was just so sad.
Why? What did he do wrong? Why wasn’t he enough?