Summary: Getting drunk was supposed to make him forget everything for a while and honestly it's just making him think more.

or the one where the larents had an argument and Louis fails at trying to forget about it, no matter how much he drinks.

Author: SleazyTomlinson

--

uis grimaces as he downed his sixth or maybe ninth shot. It earned him a pat on the back from who he thinks is Stan or maybe its two Stans, he doesn't really know anymore. He doesn't feel as light as he thought he should by now. He's been downing pure vodka and whiskey for crying out loud. Except he feels heavy, his shoulders feel heavy. Like there's bricks on them or something.

Getting drunk was supposed to make him forget everything for a while and honestly it's just making him think more.

It wasn't supposed to go like planned. He shouldn't even be here, he should be at home with his Harry cuddling and watching some stupidly cheesy movie that Harry would've picked. His Harry. All his. He hopes he's still his. The bruises on Harry's neck don't seem to define who he belongs to. Louis has fucked up once again and now here he is trying to drown away in his own vodka misery. He laughs a little at how depressed he sounds but then groans at the blurred vision that it seems to cause. No contacts in his eyes mixed with heavy mixed drinks and shots don't...well, don't mix.

He pushes past the people in the crowded kitchen and makes his way to a bathroom. He pushes through people and passes by some that he recognizes but doesn't give much mind to them. He just needs to get away.

He down right gags when he finally reaches and enters the bathroom. Drying puke is on the toilet and two girls are making out in the bathtub. It's nothing to do with the girls, honestly, but he just really hopes neither of them were the ones that created the mess in the toilet. Slurring out apologies, he quickly shuts the door and walks off just as fast as he came in.

Bodies are pressed everywhere with little space to walk making it more difficult to breathe let alone get out from. Niall sure knows how to throw a house party. Eventually he leads himself to the front door and out of the house. His name is being called by who he's sure is Liam or maybe even his mother but he ignores it and steps out. If it is Liam, Liam will call him for it later. If it is his mother, what the hell is she doing here in the first place? He has to grab the pillar in front of him for balance before he can move any further, though. It's a miracle that he even grabbed the right one considering that it keeps moving.

Or maybe its just Louis.

No, it's definitely the pillar.

Lovely, soft pillar; always there to help him. Help him balance, help him to never fall or break. So pretty and tall and thin and cherry stained-lipped with brown waves falling over his shoulders and colossal hands that are always playing with his smaller ones and a scent of lavender mixed with Louis' favorite cologne and his own natural smell.
Oh wait, that's Harry. The pillar isn't any of that. He isn't as cuddly, isn't as lovely as his Harry. God, he wants to hug Harry.

He hesitantly lets go of the pillar. It may not have been Harry, but it still keeps him still and away from the world in front of him that seems to be spinning on over-drive. With shaky legs, he trudges down the steps of the porch. He doesn't even know where he's going or what he's doing, really, but he just needs to walk. He needs to clear his mind.

Except his mind won't really let him. Harry is everywhere and everything just reminds him of Harry. To the brown cat running across the street to the banana peel on top of the garbage can.

It was a stupid argument, too. It started from nothing and ended in such a big mess with shouting and blaming and accusing and just shit. The problem is that he knows he's wrong. He knows that Harry had won the argument in the first place but Louis' pride got the best of him as it always does and he kept going and going and going until it got to the point where he was bringing up past shit from two years prior that Harry had done. Not even significant things.

Louis was a shit arguer. And a shit person. And a shit boyfriend.

He always tells himself that. The dark little place in the back of his brain seems to always be shouting and reminding how he knows he doesn't deserve Harry in the first place. Louis is too cocky and snarky and just plain stubborn meanwhile his boyfriend is the complete opposite. Pure perfection. Too perfect to be having to handle Louis' shit.
He hates himself for this whole situation. He realizes that every argument, big or small, have always started because of him. Because he can't keep his mouth shut about the little things. Harry doesn't need any of that, he deserves the world.

Louis digs his palms into his eyes and tries to control his breathing. Sometimes the crumby thought of breaking up with Harry sounds perfect. Then Harry can move on and be happy with someone who rightfully deserves him.

Except Louis is also selfish.

He can't let go of Harry. Harry has been his rock and pride and joy since they became friends a few years ago. He's the missing piece that Louis never knew he needed until he got it. If he ever broke up with Harry, he'd be nothing but a cold body.

Louis manages to get to the end of the lawn and onto the grass before his legs finally give out. He falls onto his side and groans at the pain on his bum. The left cheek, in particular. It seems he probably landed on a rock or something because it's digging into his skin.

He reaches a hand around but is only met with the jean material of his pocket and a silhouette shape of his phone. He pulls it out and plops in on the patch of grass beside his face.

The lock screen instantly brightens and he's met with green eyes and happy smiles. He instantly grins at the picture. He had taken it last year during their anniversary trip to Disneyland. The cheesiest trip Louis had ever been to, but he loved every minute of it. Harry had protested throughout the day whenever Louis had tried to take a picture of him. Louis couldn't resist, though, because their was Harry clad in cute little Minnie Mouse ears to match Louis' Mickey Mouse ones. Eventually he had taken the picture when Harry wasn't paying attention. He was looking up at who knows what with the most beautiful smile and his eyes were sparkly and the ears above his head were just too much. Harry had gotten slightly annoyed when Louis ignored his protests but he brushed it off eventually.

That's another thing. Harry takes too much of Louis' shit. He's always the one who tries to end fights faster because Harry doesn't like fighting. He doesn't like being angry or being rude because he feels like it isn't in his nature. It's only been twice since he's actually gone angry-red-mode. Both of those times, again, were caused by Louis. The first time was last year when Louis had accused him of looking at another man, and the other was earlier today for almost the same reason. Other times, Harry will give up first just to get things back to normal.

Except today was different. When tension is high between them, Louis just ends up sleeping on the couch at night to give each other space. The next day he would wake up early and make Harry breakfast in bed and apologize and give Harry kisses all over his face until Harry giggles and forgives him. Today ended with Louis storming out of their flat with nothing but his wallet and phone in his pocket. He didn't look back when he left or even when Harry was calling out his name. He just drove off to Stan's house and then walked to a party with him to get him to cool off. Now here was drunk off his arse laying on Niall's lawn and staring at a picture of his boy.

He doesn't know what he's doing when he unlocks his phone and goes to his contact list, or when he clicks on Harry's number and pushes the phone to his ear. The call immediately goes straight to voicemail. Louis winces at the dial tone.

He's persistent, though. He calls again and again and he's been sent to voicemail almost five times already but he keeps trying. It's during the ninth ring that he hears the other line pickup. He hasn't even opened his mouth when Harry's voice strikes.

"What, you didn't yell enough at me already?!"

"No, I would never- I just- babe, I need to apple-gize...apologize, I mean. God, I'm sorry. I'm so so so so so sorr-baby, I really am. Please tell me-please just know that, okay? Okay. Because I luff you somush-"

"Are you...drunk?!" He sounded shocked or maybe even mad, Louis can't tell honestly.

"Yeah, I-I might, I don't know just-just listen, okay? Because that's not the problem here whether I'm wasted or not."

"Louis."

"Baby."

He hears Harry sigh on the other line and can almost hear the way he knows Harry is pinching the bridge of his nose. "Where even are you, Louis?"

"At Norman's house."

"Who's Norman?"

"The little Irish guy that looks like Ellen."

"You mean Niall?"

"No I meant what I said when I called him Nathan-dammit, Harry, I want to-I don't wanna be here anymore. It's fucking cold and the grass is wet and my bum is getting wet because of the fucking grass and I miss you-fuck- Harry I'm sorry and I know I'm-I'm just a piece of shit- I know that. I know you deserve much better than what I can give you but I don't- I just love you. So much, babe, I hope you know that."

"Louis just come home before you do something dumb or get yourself into trouble and we'll talk about this in the morning."

"No. I don't want you to take me back."

"Wait, what?"

"I love you."

"So you've said, but why don't you want me to-"

"Say it back."

"Say wh-"

"Please tell me you love me. You still love me, right?"

"I do. I do love you, Louis."

"Even if I'm drunk?"

"Even if you're drunk."

Louis smiles and he instantly feels dopey because Harry loves him. His lovely Harry loves him and he loves Harry and-

"I'm just mad at you is all." Harry says. The smile fades off Louis' face.

"You should be for the way I treated you. Don't take me back, then."

"Louis I don't understand what you're trying to say. What do you mean don't take you back?"

"Because I want you to be mad at me. You have to be. I need for you to hate me." There's a long prolonged pause and Louis starts to think Harry hung up but then he hears the rumble again. Sweet, sweet voice.

"Louis I don't hate you. I never have and most likely never will. You should know that by now."

Louis hums sadly and turns so he's on his back. The stars are hiding behind the dark clouds but he can faintly see the moon high up.

"I don't know why, though. You should always have nothing but greatness, H. And here I am- here's this asshole who doesn't know when to put a sock in it or-or how to keep his boyfriend happy-"

"Louis you always make me happy."

"Always is a big word. Not always, H. Not always."

"So what your saying is that because we butt heads sometimes, I should hate you." It comes out as more of a statement than a question.

"Not just because of that."

He hears movement on the other line and he wonders what Harry's doing. He hopes to heaven that Harry isn't packing his things and leaving. Why did he have to even think such a thing?

"Harry are you still there?" He asks frantically.

It takes a few moments before he hears Harry's voice again. "Yeah, I'm here."

"Good, good. I thought you left me."

"Isn't that what you want, though?"

Louis groans as he feels his foot falling asleep.

"I don't want you to leave me. I would never want that, I- I'd miss you too much and I'd probably turn into a human vegetable or something. I just don't want you taking me back easily because you deserve to be fought for, babe. I want you to be mad, I want you to hate me because I deserve it, but I don't want you to ever really leave me."

"I'm not going to leave you, Louis."

"Are you gonna be mad at me then?"

"Do you want me to?"

"Of course I do."

There's more shuffling on the other line before Harry speaks ,"Louis where exactly are you?"

"Why?"

"Because I'm gonna go get you right now. Now where are you?"

"No! Don't come look at me I- shit, no. I don't want you to see me like this." He can hear Harry huff.

"Louis where are you?" This time it's more threatening. It scares Louis a little. Harry's voice never really get's this strained at all. Louis hates himself.

"Still at Naomi's house."

"Niall's house, Lou. It's Niall's house."

"Whatever makes you happy, sugarplum."

--

When Harry gets there, it's quite a sight to see. Louis had begged Harry not to hang up the phone because he felt lonely and he missed him so much in the past few hours of not seeing him and, even though Harry is still fuming, he didn't have the heart to say no.

Throughout the call, Louis had been telling Harry some stories, apologies in between most of them. The last one was of how much he missed doing summer salts like he used to do as a kid and had that he was going to leave Harry on the line alone while Louis practiced. Harry didn't think he'd actually do such a thing, but when he arrived he saw Louis rolling all over the grass while cursing at himself when he failed to do one.

It was adorable, honestly. Anger is subsided for a minute as Harry watches Louis struggle to just do one damn summer salt on a lawn in front of a party.

"Having fun?" Harry speaks up after Louis fourth attempt. Louis immediately scrambles to his feet and looks like a child on Christmas morning.

"Harry! Oh god, I missed you so much. It's like I haven't seen you all day!" Louis moans out with a large grin. He goes to take steps towards Harry but even Harry can tell that Louis didn't drink too lightly. His voice is more slurred in person and his walking was like a toddler's first steps.

"You haven't seen me all day. Not since this morning." Harry says. It isn't meant to sound bitter but it sure does come out that way. He has mixed feeling for the way he sounded.
Louis swallows thickly as he stands in front of Harry. He feels like he's swaying or maybe it's just him mind but he slowly reaches for Harry's forearm. His fingers glide down until he's playing with Harry's index and middle fingers.

"Right, right."

It's silent for a moment and all that can be heard is the bass from the party and Louis' hiccups that Harry shouldn't find so endearing.

Harry eventually grabs a hold of Louis' hand properly and drags him down the street. It's a bit of a process because Louis' feet go in so many directions and sometimes he just trips over thin air but he tries to keep up with Harry as best as he can. His hand is gripping Harry's tightly and he'll give an occasional squeeze to get his attention but Harry looks straight ahead. Harry physically has to force himself not to look back.

Harry lets go of Louis' hand when they get to the truck to get his keys out. It's only momentarily but that doesn't stop Louis from giving a light groan and resting his head on Harry's upper back. His arms wrap around Harry's waist gently and the little gesture makes Louis feel at home. He just wishes Harry would turn around or something.

"Haz..." Louis squeaks out. Harry doesn't respond. Instead he finishes getting his keys out and opens the passenger door. Louis hums sadly and hesitantly lets go, giving Harry's back a kiss before he does. Harry helps him as he not-so gingerly hops in.

The ride back to the flat makes Louis feel even shittier. Car rides are always filled with chatter or music blasting through the speakers from Harry's phone and their hands are always laced beside the gear shift. Tonight is quiet. Nobody is talking and no music is playing and Louis doesn't even try to reach out for Harry's hand because he's afraid of the rejection that's to come.

Louis feels the shittiest when they finally make it to the flat. Harry had tidied everything up and even the key dish that Louis had dropped on his way out looked polished.Even the papers that he flung everywhere were stacked neatly onto the coffee table.

"I could have cleaned it up." He mumbles ashamed. Harry shrugs and closes the door, kicking his shoes off and heading towards the kitchen to turn on the kettle.

"Wasn't sure if you were coming back." Louis' heart breaks.

"Baby, I'm so fucking s-"

"Just get some paracetamol and go to bed. We'll talk about this in the morning."

Louis knows he said he wants Harry angry. He knows that he said he wanted Harry to not take him back. He knows that, but it still hurts. He guesses he deserves the pain, too.

"I love you." Louis tries. It's small and insignificant but it's filled with so much hope that Louis almost feels embarrassed for almost begging to hear those words back.

Harry's back muscles tense up and he bows his head down and just breathes. When he comes up again, he runs a hand through his hair then pours the kettle water into a mug.

"Goodnight, Louis." He says, defeated. Louis has to swallow back the tears clogging in his throat.
With a nod, he goes over to the couch where there's already a make-shift bed on. It's so familiar in the worst way. He feels dejected, but that's what he gets.

He doesn't even take the pills that are placed nicely on the coffee table next to a glass of water. He thinks he deserve the hangover pain, too. Anything to feel worse than the fact that Harry didn't say those three words back.

-

Louis' head is in the toilet just seconds after his awakening. Not only does his mind feel like shit but now his whole body is feeling it, too. He's only got himself to blame and he curses at himself after ever hurl into the toilet.

He's sobered up, yeah, but he still remembers the night perfectly. The whole crappy day. He still feels guilty as hell he still hates himself for everything that he did and has ever done to hurt Harry, and he still wants Harry to be angry with him not matter how much it hurts. No matter if Harry will ever say those three words back again.

After making sure that his stomach won't explode again, he finally stands and makes goes into their room. The bed is already made so he assumes that while he was puking his heart out that Harry had awoken. Hopefully not by the dying rhino sounds Louis was making.

He changes quickly into some joggers and a hoodie, making sure to put the hood over his head to hide his mess of hair. When he goes back into the living room, he finds Harry with a mug in hand and eyes glued to the TV. He's sitting on the couch opposite of where Louis' "bed" is. Louis didn't even get a chance to try to win him over with breakfast. Not that he thought he would get away with it easier, it's just a thing that he does whenever these kinds of things happen.

"I made you one. A tea, I mean. We ran out of Yorkshire so I just made you chamomile." He says with his eyes still fixed on the screen.

Louis thanks him quietly and takes the paracetamol from the previous night and downs it with his tea. Skim milk with no sugar. Just the way Harry knows Louis likes his tea.

It stays like hat for a moment; Louis watching Harry and Harry watching the TV. He faintly wonders if Harry knows that Louis is staring and is just trying really hard not to look at him or if he really just doesn't feel it. Louis always notices when Harry's staring at him.

Harry finally turns to look at Louis when the commercial break starts. Louis' cheeks tinge pink and he looks down at the tea in his lap.

"You, um, you said we should talk about...about yesterday in the morning...i-it's morning."

Harry takes a sip of his tea and sets it onto the coffee table. When he sits back properly, he gazes at Louis unamused. It makes Louis ache a bit. It's not even the headache from being hungover anymore.

"Look, Harry, I'm sorry about yesterday. About everything-just specifically yesterday. I shouldn't have said the things that I said and I shouldn't have assumed shit in the first place. I don't expect you to forgive me, because I know that what I said was horrible. I just want you to know that I really am sorry." Harry's expression hasn't changed, and that's what worries Louis the most.

So he continues,"I'm also sorry for getting wasted yesterday. I'm sorry that I called you and that I made an absolute fool out of myself and that you had to come pick me up. I'm sorry about everything. And you didn't even have to do that. You could have ignored me or just hung up or even left me on the lawn. I don't know why you didn't."
Then Harry sighs and switches his position so his legs are crossed and his hands are folded neatly between his legs. There's a frown etched on his forehead that Louis just wants to soothe away with his fingertips.

"You said some shitty things yesterday, Lou. I mean you accused me of so much shit that I never even did. Then you just left. You left and told me to go fuck myself to go get pissed off your ass at some party! And here you are trying to apologize as if that will make the things that you told me just magically disappear?!"

Louis wasn't expecting that, really. Harry's always so calm and even when angry, he's never rose his voice this high. He's almost yelling. You can see it in his burning eyes and in the vein on his neck and on the hands fisting his knees just how angry he really is.

"I-I'm not trying to make them disappear and I'm not expecting things to be okay, because I know they won't. I know if I want your forgiveness, it's gonna take more than some shitty apology. But for now this is all I can give you." It isn't until the last few words that his voice starts to crack. Tears are clogging his throat again and this time they're determined to spill. He quickly lift his palms and digs them into his eyes to prevent them but its too late.

It isn't long before his chest starts heaving from how hard he's trying to contain himself.

"I'm sorry that that's all I can give you. It's not enough and I'll never be enough for you. I'm sorry for always taking you for granted and always getting you angry. You deserve to be happy all the time. You don't need me pushing you down and you can stay mad, you should stay mad. I fuck up all the time and I'm sorry. I wanna be better for you, I really do. And I promise I'm gonna try to be. For you." Louis' voice shakes with every word and it's wavering in the air but he means it. He means every word. He wants to be better. He wants Harry to be proud to call Louis his just as much as Louis is proud to say that about Harry.

He hasn't taken his hands away from his face but he does hear Harry moving around. Louis' stomach drops, thinking that Harry just left without another word. Except he feels a body sink beside him on the couch and hands forcing his away from his eyes. He doesn't look up though. He doesn't want to see what Harry's eyes are saying. Louis' ashamed of himself in every way possible and looking at Harry seems like it'll just weigh him down when he sees those green eyes.
Harry doesn't say anything about it. He just places Louis' hands on his lap and turns Louis body to face his. It isn't until Harry wraps his arms around him and Louis' head is resting on Harry's chest that he lets himself break.

Harry rubs his hand up and down Louis' spine as he lets his boyfriend cry. Louis' body is shaking a little. The tears are forming a giant wet stain on Harry's shirt but nobody really cares right now.

"Louis, you don't need to change for me."

"I want to. I wanna make you happy." Louis whimpers out exasperatedly.

"I told you last night that you always make me happy. Couples always have their ups and downs, babe, that's normal."

"It's not about other couples, Haz. This is about you. I wanna be able to deserve you."

"You say it as if I'm perfect-"

"You are."

"Nobody is, Lou. Get that through your head. You can't be perfect all the time, you can't please everyone all the time either. Including your boyfriend." Harry says calmly, punctuating his sentence with a kiss on Louis' head top.

"I just want to be enough for you. You always give so much and you're always the rock in the relationship. We always do things I like but never what you like and you know it's true. I-I want to change that. I'm gonna treat you the way I should've been treating you. You're my main priority, Haz."

Harry pulls back, then. He has a deep frown on his forehead that Louis doesn't like seeing there. He thumbs the tear tracks from Louis' cheeks away and lets out a heaving sigh.
"I mean sometimes you are a bit of a...a-"

"Self-centered brat." Louis finishes for him. The edges of Harry's lips curve up a little before he leans down to place another kiss on Louis' forehead.

"I was gonna say prick but I guess sometimes you are that, too." Harry says. It's a playful tone and Louis lets himself smile. He hopes this is a sign that Harry still wants him.
"I promise I'm gonna treat you better." Louis states, his hands tangling with Harry's fingers. "Like royalty."

He hears Harry hum thoughtfully. "Does that mean you'll feed me grapes from a vine and give me back rubs whenever I want?"

"Anything for you, prince Harold."

"You know what I really want?" His tone serious as he rubs Louis' palms with his thumbs ,"I want us to be happy. I want us to stop getting angry for no reason. I want you to trust me, Lou."

"I do trust you." Louis says instantly. "It's the world I don't trust. I never mean to accuse you, Harry. I just would never blame you for going with someone better."

Harry stops the movements on his thumb then. Before Louis can look up, though, Harry's lips are pressed against his. Louis kisses back immediately. His hands twitch, wanting to touch Harry's skin.

Harry is the first to pull away. He rests his forehead onto Louis', his eyes gazing nothing but Louis' face. Louis does the same. He can feel Harry's breath come out slightly heavier through his nose, hitting Louis' face. He outlines Harry's face, every arch and every freckle. How did he ever get so lucky?

"Do you still love me?" Louis whispers out tentatively. Harry leans in again and pecks Louis' lips, retracting with a smile on his face.

"Baby, I never stopped."