Pride {l.s.}

Beds are cold. Body heat warms them up over time, but this was different. I'm naturally cold. My toes get cold easily, so I wear fuzzy socks. Sheets are cold right when you slide into bed, but they warm up from your body heat; there was just less body heat in the bed that night when Harry chose to sleep in a bathtub over sleeping next to me. 

I finally wake up, and I know that I slept in. The room is too bright, and I can hear a heavy amount of traffic outside the motel room. I hurry to slide into some fresh clothes before I dare to check the bathroom for him. When I finally open the door, it hurt. 

He left. He took the car too. He left me stranded in a motel room with my phone, my suitcase, and no ride home. 

Zayn answers my call right away and gets to the motel within an hour. The car ride starts out silent. The radio isn't even on. My jaw is tight as I stare out at the road ahead, but I don't know why. I don't know why I'm acting angry. I'm not angry at him really; sure he left me without a ride, but that's nothing compared to what I said to him last night. 

"You could have been honest with me! We can fix it together quickly! It's okay!"

"Quickly? Depression can be fixed quickly? Please tell me you did not just say that." An anger appears in Harry's eyes. I've seen it before, but never like this.

"I didn't mean-"

"No," he interrupts me. "You said it. You said that this is all an easy fix. It's not okay! I've been fighting this a long time! I've tried everything. Believe me. I've tried going out with friends. I've tried self-care and bizarre coping skills. I've tried to be positive. It's not easy! Stop acting like it is! I'm trying! I really am! So stop acting like I'm not!"

"Louis-" Zayn starts calmly, but I can't handle the silence either. 

"He's been lying to me," I blurt out. Zayn goes silent and listens because he knows that I have something important to say. "He convinced me that he was no longer depressed after we fixed his hypothyroidism. He acted okay, and I believed him. Zayn, he's still depressed. He's still sad and feels broken, and I invalidated his feelings. I told him that depression is an easy fix that can be fixed quickly..."

"Louis, he opened up to you. He's really uneasy with that mental health stuff; you knew that," Zayn replies with a sigh. "I would've driven away too."

"I know. I know," I mutter. "And we got tattoos together last night."

"What tattoos?" Zayn asks. He curiously peaks over to my arm and sees the new one. "Dagger? Nice."

"He got a rose," I add on. "Like a balance of love and pain and all that stuff."

I feel my heart get tight. His words echo like a scream in an empty hallway. 

"No wonder I got the rose and you got the dagger."

"You'll get him back, Lou, if that's your worry," Zayn breaks my thoughts.

I turn my body to face Zayn. "What if I hurt him again?"

"What do you mean?"

"When I get angry, I yell things. I hurt him. What if that's all I do? What if I'm toxic?" I ramble as I watch Zayn's expression change from calm to wide eyed. 

"Bring it down a notch, man," Zayn replies immediately. "Talk to him. That's where you need to start."

"I need to get it done fast, Zayn. It's his birthday tomorrow."

"I know. You'll be fine."

***

I am not fine. The present I ordered for Harry never delivered. I find myself running around downtown Orlando to find something that might mean something to him the day before his birthday. I just end up back at Mind of Mine. Zayn is busy with a customer at the front desk. He gives me a sad smile as I wander past the gallery into my old room. I ended up throwing random art I made and couldn't sell in there. Some of the pieces were too personal to sell. 

I do find an old sketchbook on the floor. It's beaten and battered; it's the one I used in high school. I transferred over to another sketchbook, but I kept this one around. I open up its pages, and a sketch from only a week ago spurs a memory.

"Why are you so good at drawing?" Harry asks me. He leans over to see the drawing. I can smell the red wine in his breath. We ended up in the back room of my old bedroom looking through all art. He was the one who insisted on opening the old sketchbook. He is also the one who wanted me to draw him something. 

"I practiced," I reply. "Why are you so hot?"

"I practiced," Harry replies with a giggle. He presses a small kiss to my cheek before he picks up his camera from the floor beside him. He moves across the room and squats down. I can see him out of the corner of my vision, and I hear him take a photo of what he sees. I don't comment. I allow him to take pictures of me whenever he wants to. In the back of my head, I hope he shows me all of them one day. 

Harry comes back over and rests his head on my shoulder. The camera and the wine bottle sit beside us as the room falls back into a comfortable silence. I add the last couple touches, and we both sit for a moment and look at it. 

"I love it," Harry comments. 

"I love you."

"That's us. Intertwined. Somehow we got roped together in a big mess, but it's my mess. It's our mess, and I love it. I love you."

"At the end of the day, you love who you love, you know? That's the only way. If there's something I've learned from a million mistakes, it's that you're the one I want at the end of the day."

A/N

I'm doing better. Decided not to let a boy decide how I feel. It feels good. Hope you like the new chapter. Stay safe. Love to all. 

xoxo raindropkiss1