Trigger warning: Vomiting, Panic attack and a long-ass chapter

March 2014

🎧-The Story, Conan Gray

"Oh, and I'm afraid that's just the way the world works

It ain't funny, it ain't pretty, it ain't sweet."

"Oh God, Lou, these are amazing!"

When Harry says that, Louis realizes that he doesn't know how to take compliments. So, he just shyly nods and smiles. For the last thirty minutes, they have been going through Louis' modelling photos which are about four years old. From him laying down in a dainty flower field to him on a rustic old bench. The younger boy almost lost it when he saw a photo of him underwater posing as if he was not choking on water.

"No, I am serious. These are so good," Harry looks with a baffled expression at Louis who is oblivious to the beauty those pictures capture.

Louis smiles as memories of the photoshoot run through his head. "I did have a lot of fun doing those, yeah." The thought of posing in front of a camera couldn't have sounded worse to a twenty-one-year-old Louis. But then again, beggars can't be choosers. Turns out signing up for a couple of photoshoots for some money was the best decision Louis ever made. He loved everything about modelling. From all the backset energy to the beautiful clothes and locations, Louis finally had found something he loved. Modelling made him feel beautiful and the feeling of being beautiful was quite rare to Louis.

Harry adjusts on the blue-sheeted bed, running his fingers across a laminated photo of Louis in a boat in the middle of a lake wearing a lavender sweater and dainty blue pants with a red flower crown smiling through tears, holding a bittersweet emotion. The green-eyed boy asks quietly, awed at the magnificence of the photo, "Why did you stop?"

Louis frowns slightly.

Why did Louis quit modelling?

It occurs to him that he just can't think of a clear reason. After Lottie got the scholarship and the news of Eric cheating on him came about, he just... stopped. He stopped taking care of his portfolio, he stopped taking calls from his non-official mentor/manager, he stopped applying, he stopped having enough confidence to break into new outfits. And it's not that he missed modelling. After Niall had offered him the job, he didn't have much time left anyway. Or that's what he told himself.

He shrugs and lays on his back, facing the ceiling. "I don't really know. After I started working for Niall, I started liking it more so I just quit. " He could feel Harry's green eyes on him. He is wearing a new perfume today instead of his usual vanilla scent, Louis notices. What is it? Cinnamon?

"Why don't you try doing it again?"

Louis turns to Harry, with a comical expression on his face. "Yeah, no."

"Oh, come on," Harry whines, laying down beside Louis. The blue-eyed can almost feel his warmth and intakes a sharp breath slowly moving his hand on his stomach away from Harry's. Does he even realize what he does to him?

Harry continues, "What's the harm in trying?" Louis turns his head sideways to look at him; his face is at ease, hair in a bun putting his sharp jawline on display and wearing a ridiculous polka dot shirt. How does Harry manage to make Louis want him to squeeze his cheeks, gifting him a flower crown and kiss him till he can't feel his lips anymore at the same time? The green eyes turn from the ceiling towards him but for some reason, Louis doesn't turn away. Instead, he gives him a small smile, the shine in his blue eyes matching the luminance of the green.

"Maybe I will someday."

******

In some weird twisted way, Louis actually likes hospitals.

Scratch that. Louis likes the familiarity of the hospitals. Since the age of sixteen when Jay got her first cancer report, Louis has been way too familiar with the smell of formaldehyde, the white marble floors, the different departments and the sadness and happiness associated with feelings of loss and relief. He knows many nurses by their names and remembers how their children are being a pain in the ass. He is on a first name business with his mother's oncologist and makes sure to wish him a happy birthday every year. Because that's all he knows.

He just knows going to the hospital every day to check on his mother whose condition was apparently so delicate that it was risky to keep her home. He just knows that when he goes to the hospital, his mother is there. He just knows how to comfort her and himself, helping her through the pain. And he doesn't mind it. He doesn't honestly mind being stuck in this labyrinth as long as his mother is just there.

People say that a graveyard is a place where you feel the most alive. Louis hates every bit of this concept. It strikes him with unfamiliarity because all Louis knows are hospitals. Not graveyards. He is supposed to visit the hospital, chat with the sweet forty-year-old Nurse Martha and discuss his mother's condition with Doctor Charles while he and his mother talk providing each other comfort. That's how it always has been for the last eight years and that's how it is supposed to be.

That's why when Doctor Charles calls him at eight am in the morning, out of nowhere, Louis knows he has a right to panic because something is so so wrong. The twenty-three-year-old quickly forwards the message to Niall, leaving the radio station as he stuffs his shaking hands into his jeans overthinking about the serious tone of the doctor as he asked him to meet as soon as possible.

Instead of greeting his mother like he usually does, he straight up goes to the doctor's office. The nervous knock is answered with a quiet "come in". Louis takes a deep breath pushing open the door quietly to see the forty-seven-year-old doctor sitting behind his desk, wearing a small smile on his face and his eyes holding the emotion of nervousness behind his round spectacles.

"Is everything okay, Doc?" Louis asks, his voice laced with the tension lying underneath as his one hand still holds the door handle tightly.

"Come on, Louis. Why don't you take a seat?" Louis visibly frowns at the lack of answer but forces himself to walk three meters ahead and sit on the red chair. Charles watches him with worry, sighing at the idea of having to do this. He thought it would get easy with every patient. It doesn't.

He straightens in his seat and says in a soft yet clear voice, "Louis, we have received your mother's reports of the monthly checkup of the cancer growth." Louis could feel his chest tighten as he wraps one his arms around his blue hoodie, trying not to think of the worst possible outcome but when has luck ever been with Louis. "I am afraid to say that it's not good."

It feels like Louis' throat has dried up, the air is knocked out of his lungs and he has this sudden urge to puke. Don't panic, he tells himself, it can't be that bad. It's okay. Mum is okay. It's okay. It's okay. He asks, in a shaky voice, "What do you mean?" It's okay.

The old man sighs, opening the report that had been sitting on his desk and sliding it towards Louis, pointing at the highlighted numbers. "We are afraid that the new medicine is not working as good as we expected it to." It's okay. "The cancer continues to intensify, the growth has slowed but it is still significantly there. It is hurting your mother, Louis." It's gonna be okay. "I am gonna suggest you a new medicine plan but," He sighs, continuing hesitatingly, "I don't want you to get your hopes up. We are gonna try our best, I assure you. But case studies show that patient under such high medication dose and with this growth doesn't survive for more than eight months."

Eight months. It's gonna be okay. Eight months. It's oka- Eight fucking months.

Louis feels sick. His throat tightens and he can feel his half-eaten morning sandwich come up his food pipe. He forcefully gulps, pinching the side of his thighs, trying to keep his tears at bay as the news hits him like a truck. "Is there," He opens up in a wobbly voice, "is there any chance of her outliving those patients?"

The doctor nods sincerely, reaching over the table to put a comforting hand on Louis' elbow. "There is always a chance, Louis. Miracles happen in medicine more than you think they would. But the thing is there is yet a chance, a huge chance, of the result being negative. I am not trying to scare you, I am just being honest about what lies ahead."

The blue eyes well up with tears, as he buries his face in his hands, the doctor's hand still on his elbow trying to provide comfort, having grown all too familiar with these kinds of situations. "Does she-does she know this?"

Charles shakes his head slightly. "Not yet," He says, knowing way too well that Louis is gonna request him to not tell her yet, "But I have to tell her, Louis. My doctor ethics and patient-doctor confidentiality demand me to do this. I just wanted to let you know first so that you could have time to be familiar with the situation."

A small whimper falls from his lips as he passes a shaky hand through his hair. "Do everything you can," It hurts, God, it hurts so bad, "I don't- I don't want to lose my Mum."

The doctor nods readily in assurance. "Of course. I assure you we are gonna do our best. But Louis before we discuss the new medicine plan I have to-" He hesitates, "I have to discuss something else with you." Louis's heart falls to his stomach at the tense tone in his voice.

Charles pushes back his chair and moves toward the wooden cabinet in the corner of the room. He takes out a grey folder of documents and stands beside Louis, putting the folder in front of him as he puts a hand on his shoulder. "Now, before you say 'no' I want you to seriously think about this and have a talk with your mother." Louis' clammy hand, turns to open the folder, his shaky fingers rubbing against the grey material. He reads as dread fills his chest.

DO NOT RESUSCITATE ORDER.

"No," Louis shakes his head strongly, standing up suddenly, "Fuck no." He is not going to take any chance of life away from his mother. Not due to some stupid order.

"Listen to me, Louis," Charles says in a steady voice, "I am not telling you that we are gonna give up on your mother. But this is what my job requires me to do. When a patient is in a serious terminal condition, it requires me to make my patient and their family aware of every option they have."

"She is not dying. And I am not letting you have the audacity of telling me to sign an order that makes me give up on her."

"Nobody is giving up on her, Louis," He says, his voice a bit softer, "But she is in so much pain. She has been for a very long time. And it's only gonna increase if there ever comes a condition where we have to put her on life support. Sometimes we have to let people go. I am not saying that you have to sign this. I am not saying you have to agree with this. But what I am saying is that you have to discuss this with your mother because ultimately it's her decision. Your mother is my patient and her decision is what matters to me."

There are times in life when you feel so much at one time. Anger, sadness, frustration, hopelessness. And sometimes you just can't let it out. And Louis knew that feeling way too well because right now it feels that it is consuming him in and out. There is so much of it that Louis feels physically sick. He thinks of his poor mother and how every treatment slowed down cancer but caused her pain. He thinks of his little sister who is studying her ass off in America and how is he supposed to let her know that the next time she comes here, her mother might not be there. He wants to scream, cry, punch a wall. But all he manages to do is a mere nod. His voice comes out tight, "I will talk to her about it."

As he leaves the office, he can feel the doctor's eyes full of sympathy, determined to do everything he can to save that woman's life. It's okay. Louis speeds walk in the hallway taking a sharp right turn. It's fine. He pushes open the red and white door of the men's room which is thankfully empty. He drops down to his knees in front of the toilet after opening the door of a stall. You are okay. Tears drop down his cheeks as he feels bile come up his throat. His throat burns as he empties the content of his stomach out, anxiety nausea taking over him.

A sob escapes his mouth as he sits back against the closed door, his chest heaving up and down. It's okay, it's okay, it's gonna be okay, you are okay. He keeps chanting it like a mantra in his head because it feels like if he stops he might lose touch with sanity and reality. That's how Louis has spent his life. Always telling himself that it's gonna be okay, always wiping his own tears as he muffles his cries in his hands on the cold bathroom floor.

After a few minutes, he stands up shakingly, flushing the toilet and getting out of the stall. He wipes his face as he stands in front of the mirror looking at his reflection. His hair is sticking out from every direction, his cheeks are wet, his mouth tastes like puke and his blue hoodie is stained with tears. He looks like a mess. He is a mess.

He takes a deep breath, composing and telling himself to be strong. So as he splashes cold water against his face, he forces himself to push all the negative thoughts to the back of his mind. He needs to be strong. He can't fall apart like this. He has to be strong for Jay and Lottie. And Charles said that there can be a chance she survives this. Louis has never been an optimistic person since it just doesn't work out for him but in this situation, he wouldn't mind having a bit of positivity and stupid expectations.

The dainty twenty-three-year-old boy exits the washroom, heading towards his mother's room, looking as if he hadn't just vomited his guts out and cried his eyes dry. He pushes open the door to his mother's room and is gonna say something in his cheeky voice when he freezes seeing that his mother isn't alone. A forty-three-year-old man sits beside her, holding her hand as both of them laugh lightly at something, oblivious to his presence. His brunette hair fails to cover his rising age, small wrinkles evident under his eyes. His blue eyes. Just like Louis'.

And as Louis stares grimly at his dad, he decides that this day couldn't get any worse.

But then he looks at his mother's face and God, she looks happy. So so happy. Her eyes are crinkled as she laughs, relaxation evident on her face. It's then that Louis realizes that no matter how bad things got, Jay never stopped loving Troy. And as far as Louis knows, Troy never got married again. And as he stares at them, he has ambivalent feelings. Is this is what love supposed to feel like? So broken and yet present? So tiring and yet exhilarating?

"Oh, Loubear!" Jay's voice shakes Louis out of his thoughts and he intakes a sharp breath as Troy's eyes turn towards him. The last time Louis saw his dad was when he was twenty. It was over thanksgiving before Lottie left for America. At best, it was awkward and at worst, it was painfully awkward for Louis. He hasn't changed much. He still wears his saggy sweatpants and still has that blank look on his face when it comes to Louis.

He looks tired.

"Hey, Mum," He says, a small smile on his face, "Hey, dad." Louis hides his shock when his dad gives him a smile in return and ignores the inevitable rising hope in his chest. "I just thought I would drop by."

"Not that I am not happy to see you here but what are you doing here so early, sweetheart? Is everything okay?" Jay asks as Louis moves forward to give her a side hug. And suddenly he remembers what new information he had received that morning and his stomach churns.

And he should tell her he knows. But at this moment, as he sees his mother actually happy after a long time, holding hands with Troy who looks equally relaxed, he decides that bad news can wait. Doctor Charles would tell her anyway later and he does not have it in him to take this moment away from his parents.

"Everything is okay, yeah."

*****

As Louis sits on the couch, staring at his parents talking, he tries to remember one good memory he had with his father. He smiles slightly as the last day of second grade unfolded before his eyes. Fuck anyone who says that high school is the best because to Louis, second grade was his favourite year. His teacher was such a sweet lady, giving away free days surprisingly, taking them out to play. There was the "let's carve pumpkins" day and then the "let's make gingerbread house" day.

Then there was the last day of second grade. The teachers had organized a small get together for all the students and their families. His mum was out of town but Troy accompanied him. They played football with other dads, Louis on top of his dad's shoulders screaming with a smile on his face. On the way home, they bought a cake just because. They fell asleep on the couch with the half-eaten cake, Disney movies still on, wrapped up in blankets.

He wonders what changed.

"Lou, why don't you take your father to the cafeteria to eat something?" Jay says, her frail voice breaking Louis' train of thought as his eyes widen slightly. She knows what she is doing. The nerve of this woman.

He glances at Troy, whose face first shows indifference then slowly turns into a hesitant smile. Louis's lips part slightly in surprise and he slowly nods as he stands up, "Sure." The older man gives a look to Jay and then stands up quietly following his son out the door. Louis can hear the sound of his father's shoes squeaking against the floor as he walks behind him. He presses the button to the elevator as they both enter it side by side. Louis rubs his hands together shifting on his ankle as a quiet awkwardness surrounds them as it usually does. And Louis doesn't expect anything else.

But then he is taken over by surprise as Troy asks, his eyes glancing from the floor to his son's face, "How's your job going, Lou?"

"I-uh-," Louis gulps, feeling dumbstruck and yet a bit happy by the sudden interaction, "It's good. The station is getting bigger and it's- it's nice."

The older man simply nods, stuffing his hands in his pockets and says, as they exit the elevator "That's good, son." And maybe Louis was wrong. This day can't be that bad.

As Louis follows him behind, he opens his mouth to say something but is interrupted as his shoulder rams into another body, knocking the contents in their hands out. The other boy lets out a sigh and bends down to pick his things up. "Oh fuck, I am so sorry," Louis says as he bends down as well picking up the documents, glancing at the other boy. He can tell that he is an intern there, from his white coat and tag. His short hair stick to the front of his forehead glistening with sweat and his brown eyes are filled with concentration and rush. He chuckles lightly, standing up and trying to handle the mess. "No, it's okay. I am sorry, I was in a rush." Louis throws him a kind smile as he gives him his files and wishes him a good day.

As Louis turns around to talk to his dad, he can just see that something is wrong because his dad is looking at anywhere but him and has an evident frown on his face. "Is something wrong, dad?" He asks in a timid voice. Troy just grumbles and turns to move towards the canteen counter. Louis is so confused as he follows him slowly looking at him sideways. He bits his lower lip before saying quietly, "You okay?"

"I was until you decided to flirt with that boy in front of everybody."

Louis intakes a sharp breath suddenly realizing what this is about. He gulps slightly, "But I wasn't-"

"Shut it."

"Fuck no," Louis snaps because fuck it, he is so tired of being the disappointing gay son. He is so tired of craving for his dad's approval and he is so tired of being pushed to the side."Is this why you left? Because you couldn't handle that the son you didn't want was gay?"

When the fifteen-year-old Louis told his small family that he was gay over dinner, Jay had jumped to hug him, Lottie was just confused about what 'gay' meant but was clapping because she could see that her mother and brother were happy while his dad remained seated there wearing a tight smile on his face and Louis remembers looking up to him just so he would say anything but he just remained there emotionless as Jay assured Louis that she loved him no matter what.

His parents fought that night. Like they did every other night.

But it was different.

Because the next thing Louis knew, three days later, was that their parents were getting a divorce. He could never forget hearing his mother's hushed sobs in the room next door mourning the loss of an already broken marriage. He remembers telling her that he was gonna be the one to support her and he was gonna work hard and he wasn't gonna disappoint her because even if Jay assured Louis that it wasn't his fault, Louis felt the look of disappointment on his father's face in his bones whenever he looked at his gay son.

An expression of guilt passes through his father's face as he says, "I didn't mean to-"

"Be a homophobic ass? Well, you failed. Like you failed at being a good dad."

"Louis, please don't. Not right now," He says in a hushed tone noticing the gaze of a couple of people on them due to Louis' sudden outburst. The blue-eyed boy grits his teeth in anger and he says in a tight voice, his knuckles clenched, "Why did you leave, then? Me being gay diminished the love you had for Mum?"

"I loved your mother. I-I still do," Louis scoffs in disbelief as Troy tries to explain himself, "It's just, it got a lot. We tried so hard for so long and I just- and then you came- I just didn't know how to act. It just got a lot."

It just got a lot.

Louis' nails dig into his skin as clutches his knuckles. "Me being gay got a lot? I got too much for you to handle?" He lets out a bitter chuckle and stumbles back a couple of steps then says, his voice laced with venom, "Fuck you, dad."

And as he turns around to leave, ignoring Troy as he calls for him, Louis can't help but feel his eyes burn with tears because he is so so mad. So mad at Troy for being such a homophobic coward. So mad at his mother for forgiving him.

And he can't help it but he is so mad at himself for being... himself.

*****

Harry knows that something is wrong when he doesn't hear from Louis for two days straight. Which isn't much but... it is, for them at least. His worry only grows when the calls are unanswered and texts are not delivered. So, after the fifth call, Harry decides to admit that he is pathetic and just calls Niall.

And that's how he comes to know about Louis' mother.

"Oh god, no. That's terrible," Harry says on the phone, dread filling his chest along with all too familiar memories of losing a parent to cancer and worry for the older boy. "How is she?"

"She's handling it the best she can. I was there along with Louis when they broke the news to her and it was... emotional. His dad was there too."

"Fuck," Harry curses, knowing the situation must have been too much for him, "Is he okay?"

"He is... I don't know, to be honest," Niall says, his voice matching that of Harry's filled with concern, "He asked for a couple of days off and that he just wanted to be alone for awhile. I haven't heard from him since then. I think he had an argument with his dad too but I am not sure. I won't lie, I am a bit worried." He is a lot worried. He really wanted to go knock at Louis' apartment or even kick the door down, if he had to, but the boy had asked for some space and no matter how worried Niall is, he knows Louis well enough to know when he wants company or not.

The green-eyed boy sighs, eyeing over the city lights, standing in the balcony. He just has a feeling and there is a lot of it causing his chest to tighten. Dread, nervousness, worry. His own life flashes through his eyes, the horrible times when he lost his stepfather. He says quietly, his voice thick with emotion, "Is it ok if I go visit him?"

Niall intakes a sharp breath, having ambivalent feelings about the statement. He is well aware of Louis' feelings towards Harry and he isn't sure if being in such a vulnerable state in front of him would be good for him. But Niall knows that Harry genuinely cares for his best friend. (Or maybe more, but that isn't his place to ask.) "You know what?" Niall says, a smile evident in his voice, "You should. He can use some company."

Harry bites his lower lip, unsure. "Are you sure it's a good idea?"

"You never know until you try it."

******

Louis wants to feel numb.

Because right now, as he lies on his couch, reeking of alcohol and cigarettes, he feels anything but numb. Two days since he came to know his mother is terminal. Two days since his dad said that Louis was too much to handle. Two days since he decided to stalk Eric's Instagram profile, his logic self not agreeing with him and look at that, the playboy has finally settled down with an actual boyfriend. (Louis really is a masochist at heart.) Two days since he refused to talk to anyone because he is in the midst of a breakdown and even the strong Louis Tomlinson is not above than drinking and smoking away his sorrows.

Did Louis tell Lottie? No, Niall did because Louis looked like he was two seconds away from jumping off a balcony. Did he talk to his dad again? No, because he felt like if he did he was actually gonna jump off a balcony.

Louis' feathery hair is messed up in all directions, his sweatshirt and pyjamas have alcohol and ash burns all over them as he lies on the couch, staring at nothing with his bloodshot red eyes, one of his arms dangling off with a half-drunken beer can nearby. He closes his eyes, hoping that his thoughts just die out for a moment because he is thinking too much. He is feeling too much. He is crying too much.

He can't help but pity himself at being so petty. He should be out there comforting Lottie and his mother but he just doesn't have it in himself to get up. Not today. Sometimes it feels better not to talk to anyone about anything but he isn't sure if he wants that. He isn't sure if he wants to be alone right now. Feelings don't die if you keep them feeding memories and they certainly don't die because of alcohol.

God, why is he so pathetic? He curls into himself a bit more, feeling his throat tighten. He tries so hard. For everyone. But he always falls short. Always. He just lets out a shaky sigh, letting his demeaning thoughts take over.

Louis is his own worst enemy.

Suddenly, the ring of the doorbell echoes through the messy apartment and Louis groans, being in no mood to entertain the idea of human company. He stands up groggily, running a hand through his messy hair, and dusting off his clothes.

Harry gulps slightly, nervousness taking over as he stares at the closed door, letting out a deep breath. The door cracks slightly open and he looks up from his shoes and his heart breaks a little at the sight.

"Harry?"

The poor twenty-three-year-old looks like a mess, his tired eyes holding emotions of confusion and surprise, his sweatshirt and pyjamas engulfing his small frame. He looks so small and tired that Harry just wants to hug him and hide him from the world forever. "Hey Lou," He says with a small smile, "I just thought I would come and check how were you doing."

A drunk Louis returns a weak smile, opening the door a bit wide, slurring on his words a bit, "I am doing good, thanks for asking."

Lie. Harry sees straight through it. How can he not when he looks like he is on the verge of a mental breakdown, with his tear stricken eyes and pained smile? "Love, are you sure you are o-"

"You wanna come in?" Louis cuts him off sharply to which Harry just nods. He cringes unintentionally as the smell of narcotics and booze hits him, as he enters the messy apartment with clothes thrown here and there. "Sorry, it's a bit messy, I didn't get time to clean it."

"It's okay," Harry says, looking worriedly at the blue eyed boy as he starts walking towards kitchen, stumbling on his feet, "Louis, you know we can talk about-"

"Do you want anything?" Louis interrupts him hiding a wince, his throat getting closed up, "Tea? Water? Coff-?"

Harry holds Louis by his shoulder, spinning him slightly towards him, his chest hitting Louis'. Louis lets out a whimper, on the verge of tears, "Harry, I-"

"It's okay," The taller boy whispers, wrapping his hand around Louis, "You are not alone."

"No, Harry, let me-" He says, weakly pushing against him, with his tiny hands, "I can't-" Louis inhales his vanilla smell, which just brings tears to his eyes, as Harry just hugs him tighter to which Louis says, his voice breaking, "I am fine, I can't- I am okay, I am telling you-"

Harry's own heart beats wildly in his chest, intaking a sharp breath, not being able to watch the pained boy. "You are doing good, I am here, y-"

Louis lets out a small sob, overwhelmed by the support and his smell and the hug and Harry. 'I am fine, I-" He finally silences, giving in, letting his arms fall by his side which just causes Harry to tighten his arms around Louis as he whispers, "I am here, you are not alone, you are doing good, honey. You are doing good."

He whimpers, closing his eyes slightly as he says, his voice breaking towards the end, "Why can't I ever just be enough."

Louis feels like he can't breathe.

He closes his eyes tightly as his breathing goes faster, darkness taking over. His hands tremble uncontrollably, he can feel sweat dripping down his neck, yet his chest feels cold. He knows Harry is saying something but the only thing he can hear is his rapid breathing and this intense feeling of fear. His mouth runs dry and it feels like he is gonna die as the walls close down on him.

Through his messed up life, Louis has never had a panic attack. But right now, in this moment, as it feels like his entire world is falling apart, he just knows this is what it feels like because he feels like he is in the midst of fainting and dying.

Harry knows a panic attack when he sees one, mainly because he knows it himself. He knows it all. He knows the feeling of the unknown, he knows the fear, he knows the feeling of dying even thought you know you are alive from all the pain running through your veins. So, as Louis' legs give up causing him to stumble down his knees, Harry holds him by his armpits settling on the floor by him. He holds his hands together, speaking, "Louis, love, it's me. It's just me. Listen to my voice," Louis tightens his hold around the tall lanky boy, the preconsumed alcohol threatning to rise up his throat, "You are okay, I am here. Focus on me. Deep breaths, honey."

Harry's heart breaks as he watches the small trembling boy, tears running down his cheeks, breathing rapid. "Let's do it together, yeah?" He says quietly, forcing his own tears to keep at bay, "Inhale," He takes a deep breath, rubbing Louis' back as he struggles to take a deep breath, "Exhale," Louis lets out a small wheezed breath to which Harry smiles. "You are doing good. Inhale,"

So, as they do this, their breathing synced with each other, Louis gains back his sense of surroundings, his breathing slows down, the trembling reduces, the sobs dive down to an unending stream of tears. All while his face is buried in Harry's neck engulfed by his scent with his arms wrapped around him. Harry keeps running his hand up and down his back, taking a deep breath himself.

After some time, Harry says, his voice low, "Let's get you to bed, buddy." The small boy lets out a gasp as Harry put his hands under his knees, holding him up in arms. Harry can't help but smile a bit as he picks him easily and walks toward the bedroom, his arms wrapped tightly around Harry's neck with his tear stained face pressed against his chest.

Harry enters the bedroom, opening the door with his leg. He sets Louis down on the bed slowly, the bed dipping with their weight. "You need something?" Harry asks Louis, who is sitting by the headboard tired to which he just shakes his head slowly. That's when he notices that they are so close that Harry gulps, feeling his warmth.

Louis stares into his green eyes, his eyes flickering down to his lips, and in this moment, he wants to kiss Harry so bad. Harry intakes a sharp breath, his eyes locked onto Louis, wanting to move away but not making any initiative to do so. And before he knows it, Louis, with alcohol in his body, moves forward and Harry leans in instinctly, before shaking his head with a wince and stands up, "No, Louis, I can't-"

"You don't like me?" Louis' voice breaks towards the end, staring up at Harry with his blue eyes, filled with tears.

Harry's eyes soften, "That's not-Baby, I-" He holds Louis' face between his hands, "That's not it. You are drunk and you just had a panic attack. You are tired and emotional. I would never do this when you are in this state, even-" He takes a deep breath, "Even if I wanted to."

"And I don't know what happened with you and your dad," He continues, "I don't know if you are okay with Lottie. I don't know if your mom is gonna make it or not. But I do know I am your best friend. I don't mind if you wanna talk, I don't mind if you are drunk off your ass, I don't mind if you wanna throw someone in front of a truck. I am here for you. I am always here for you."

And Louis doesn't care if what he is gonna ask sounds too much. He doesn't care that if Harry refuses then Louis will be heartbroken. He doesn't care if he sounds pathetic. He doesn't care that when he wakes up in the morning he is not gonna remember a thing because of his hangover. So, he whispers, "Please stay tonight." As hesitance crosses Harry's face, he continues, "I don't wanna be alone, please."

Harry bites his lower lip, then smiles slightly, "Well, then scooch over." The older boy grins, smile covering his face with tear marks, moving to lay on the side as Harry climbs onto the bed. His breath stops as he feels Louis put his arm over his chest so he gulps and reciprocates the action putting his arm under Louis, with his leg on his, holding the small boy close. Louis smiles, engulfed in Harry's warmth, as he closes his eyes and whispers, "Your heart is beating too fast."

Harry says quietly, hoping Louis doesn't remember this the next day, "It tends to do that around you."

Louis smiles pressing his face in Harry's chest. "Promise you will be here when I wake up?"

And Harry never really has been a brave person. Not when he goes out on dates with Tessa, not when he doesn't argue with Simon, not when he hides who he is and has been doing this for years. The scared little high school boy never really did change. Doesn't matter if it was the bully Alan Spencing or Simon Cowell, Harry always chooses to hide. But as he stares at this boy, wrapped around him with his eyes closed, giving him his trust, for the first time in his life, unlike the coward he has been, he chooses courage. He chooses Louis.

"Cross my heart, hope to die."

"Oh, and I'm afraid that's just the way the world works

But I think that it could work for you and me."

*****

6495 words.

That's how long this chapter is. Lmao I apologize for this, but I just didn't want to cut it in the middle. I am gonna be honest and say that I spent a lot of time on this chapter and I am quite proud at how it turned out. I have been wanting to write this since the start. I would love to know what you guys think about it.

I would also take this moment to spread awareness about panic attacks. The stigma around mental health prevents people from openly talking about it and creates myths about it. You don't have to have a mental illness or disorder in order to have a panic attack, panic attacks can be caused by anything, not a specific trigger and if someone has a panic attack in no way it means that they are being overdramatic.

If you witness someone having a panic attack and u wanna help them then here are some tips.

Stay with the person and keep calm.Offer medicine if the person usually takes it during an attack.Don't make assumptions about what the person needs. Ask.Speak to the person in short, simple sentences.Be predictable.Help slow the person's breathing by breathing with them by counting slowly to 10.

With that said, stay safe and treat people with kindness.

Love,

Grace. xx