Louis sat down on the couch, a blanket firmly tugged around his shoulders. He didn’t feel like doing anything; it seemed like now, he never did. It’d been a month or so since he’d been released from Timberline, and honestly, he didn’t feel any better than he had going into that hellhole. Well, he hadn’t tried to kill himself or anything since being discharged, but it didn’t mean that he was better. He still felt like shit all the time, and to make things worse, he’d ended the relationship with Harry. But he didn’t even have a good reason. Harry was a perfect boyfriend, and he really didn’t know why he’d been stupid enough to let him go so easily. I should really give him a call, he thought, though always decided against it. What if Harry was mad at him? He had every right to be, really.
The feather haired boy sipped at his tea and watched some stupid programme on the telly. It was all about love and relationships gone wrong, and it only made him more upset. The phone rang from across the room, and it took the boy a lot of effort to get up off his ass to answer it. He mumbled something under his breath and dragged his feet across the tiled floor, before looking at the caller ID. His eyes widened a little and his chewed on the inside of his cheek, unsure if he should answer it or not. After thinking it over, he decided that it couldn’t hurt. He took a deep breath and pressed the green button, bringing the phone to his ear. “Hello?” the boy questioned, his voice hoarse and raw from the lack of use. He was quite literally a mess. He hadn’t shaved in who knew how long, and he was almost positive he looked like a train wreck. Oh well, at least Harry wasn’t coming over.
Harry rubbed at his eyes. He figured Louis wouldn’t answer. He knew as much. Louis was the most condescending person Harry knew, and he figured this was just another way that Louis could show Harry how much better than him he was. Louis had gotten over Harry; Harry hasn’t gotten over Louis. He jumped slightly when he heard that all-too-familiar high pitched and raspy voice on the phone. God, how he loved Louis’ voice. Harry didn’t even know what to say. He didn’t know why he called. He didn’t know how to reply. How do you speak to someone you haven’t spoke to in a month and the last thing they said to you was a break up? What do you say?
“U-uh,” Harry stammered, wincing at his lame attempt of speaking to Louis. He sighed and sat down on his couch, rolling his eyes at himself and pinching at the skin on his thigh. “Sorry. I just- I forgot,” Harry said, taking a deep breath in between his words, “I forgot why I called.” He rolled his eyes at himself and mouthed ‘idiot’. He was wondering how soon Louis would hang up on him. Probably quickly. Maybe he already has and Harry is just talking to himself on the phone. Harry glanced at his phone and noticed the clock still clocking down the number of minutes, seconds, hours the two boys would speak. “I apologise if I’m bothering you. I know it’s kind of late. I shouldn’t have called this late..” Harry glanced at his clock that read 1:56 A.M. He rolled his eyes, yet again. Just another mistake he made.