Inherent

Having learned more than enough of my lesson about eavesdropping at The Castle, I don’t even allow myself to think any longer before I twist the door’s handle, refusing to pause more than I already have in an attempt to decipher any of what the two men may be speaking about. The fact however, that they’re speaking at all, I try to take as a good sign.

When I emerge finally, Louis doesn’t acknowledge my presence at first. He leans across the counter, for the first time since I met him he actually appears threatening with his cold, icy blue stare focussed solely on my friend, who stands motionless and rigid on the other side of the desk. Alex doesn’t even move a muscle when the door shuts behind me with its audible click, signalling my entrance to him. Louis’ hand is pressed tightly in a firm grip on Alex’s shoulder while he speaks so low I can hardly hear what he is saying, even feet away. For a moment I stay totally still, unsure of what to do and afraid that if I move, I might set something off. But my feet itch to move and transport me as far away from this situation without it looking as if I am trying to run away, and it may also be because of my inherent need to see Harry that I shuffle around the whisper quiet confrontation between the two men to peer out the book store’s door.

No one is standing there anymore. I kick myself for having stalled those few seconds in the break room. Harry is gone, and I missed yet another chance to see him after so, so long. With a soft, inaudible sigh in disappointment, I warily turn around to take in the dubious sight before me. Since last seeing him, Alex has turned a ghostly shade of pale white, paler than usual—and his expression is drawn and pensive as he stares down at the counter, avoiding Louis’ gaze with glossy eyes and a resigned, lax jaw.

Only now do I start to wonder what the heck it actually going on. Has something happened? Did someone get hurt? If I hadn’t seen him with my own eyes, I would be going out of my mind with worry right now about Harry. About his health and safety, and in this single moment I realize exactly how important he is to me; how, if something ever happened to him, I don’t know how or if I could ever recover.

Not after having lost so many people, not after giving nearly every part of myself that I have ever held back to him. Not after loving him, and not after he promised not to leave.

Alex nods quick and robotic to something Louis says, as though frightened of what might happen if he doesn’t agree. Seemingly satisfied, Louis nods.

“Now, there’s something we can agree with. Right?” He laughs as if he is his usual friendly self, perhaps for my benefit, but it is painfully obvious from the look on Alex’s face that, at the very least, Louis has somehow threatened him.

Alex nods again in agreement, refusing to spare me even a glace. As if in shame—which I wouldn’t doubt. This isn’t his manliest display in the world. Would he really anger the slightly older man if he didn’t go along with everything he says, though? Would Louis turn into a totally different person from the one I met?

Like Harry?

Louis chuckles, however, and his grip on Alex’s shoulder subtly tightens, but I don’t miss my co-worker’s slight wince.

“Right. Good man. Glad we could have this chat, finally. Julia,” Louis calls as he turns his head to look over his shoulder to me, proving that yes, he has been very well aware of my presence this entire time. My face burns and I feel on the verge of fainting, but somehow I manage a small timid smile, my eyes wide and a little frightened. Louis sees this, and he smiles to me in silent reassurance, only glancing back to Alex to pat his shoulder before he finally releases him. My old friend flinches openly at the contact, clearly rattled, and as soon as he is free of Louis he launches himself away from the desk. Louis pays no more mind to him, as if not at all important, and he casually strides toward me with warmed eyes and a soft, welcoming smile. He gestures for me to follow him, and I can’t bring myself to spare a single look at Alex while he remains immobile behind the counter. Like a meek, fearful puppy I follow alongside Louis as he leaves the store, his hand at the small of my back to guide me in the right direction. To wherever he is taking us to ‘chat’.

What the hell was that? It seemed to me that Alex and Louis clearly know each other, and I don’t want to think about how they might have crossed paths. Especially since it appears that Louis might harbour some sort of grudge against Alex. After all, the fair haired addict is notorious for creating his fair share of enemies.

My limbs feel fluid and as if they are their own entity, carrying the rest of my body out with Louis on their own accord, the rational part of my mind having nothing to do with the act.

“This won’t take too long,” he murmurs quietly. The early July heat hits us as soon as we land on the sidewalk. With the summer only just getting started, the sun is shining hotly above us and has the rare chance to caress my exposed pale arms and calves in my light t-shirt and jean shorts, coupled with a pair of cute black flats. The warmth is refreshing from the book store’s artificial, air-conditioned atmosphere, but the weather doesn’t provide me near enough comfort to be able to calm down fully.

Now this Louis more resembles the one I very briefly got to know, but I continue to walk on eggshells in his presence. From his display inside the store it is obvious he can turn on a dime. “I hope this isn’t too much of a bother.”

If he was the quiet, reserved person he turned into shortly after we met, it would only serve to turn me into more of a jumbled nervous wreck.

However, his apologetic tone and returned cheerful attitude do serve to reassure me at least slightly—today he isn’t as neutral to my presence as he was at the club, a factor which played into what occurred throughout the night when I needed Harry’s assurance that I was wanted there. That I belonged there.

Now, I’m not so sure I ever did.

“It’s fine, I don’t mind,” I say automatically, eager not to upset him with my noncompliance even though it’s nonexistent. Before we turn a right and leave sight of the store, I can’t help but to hurriedly glance back over my shoulder in search of Alex, but all I see through the glass is the door to the employees’ room slam shut.

And I wince, because I hear the loud boom as the heavy door comes in contact with the wooden frame even from out here. Something happened between Alex and Louis, alright, and I’m much too afraid to ask.

For a Monday afternoon the streets and sidewalks are busy; Louis walks close to my side as we weave our way through the gaggles of people we occasionally cross. I keep looking around for Harry, wondering if he is going to appear when I least suspect him to. He is nowhere in sight, though, and as each second passes so does my hope of seeing him today. Even if it meant him yelling and cursing me out for being such an evasive bitch.

I’m not sure where we’re going at all, but Louis seems to have a destination in mind with his sure, confident strides. Perhaps a little too late I wonder if it was smart of me to follow Louis, someone I hardly know, to an unspecified place. Maybe Harry was fighting so hard in an effort to give me some sort of warning of what I was walking into—but then, he could have easily said something through his furious shouting at the other man if that was the case. Likewise, I’m too afraid to ask Louis why he is here, why Harry got into a physical fight outside my workplace, or why he wants to talk to me at all.

At least now, though, I won’t have to face Alex and his cruelty for the rest of the day. I am thankful to Louis for firming squashing Alex’s sour attitude in its tracks, and for some reason I know—like I know for a fact that Harry wouldn’t either—that Louis would not hurt me. Not in the physical sense, and he would certainly try to spare my feelings as well. Back in the store is a prime example of as much, when he made both his presence and the fact that he didn’t like any of what Alex said to me known. Thinking back on it, every single one of his words still sting as much as they did when he first spewed them out of anger, resentment, or just spite, I’m not sure. When it came down to it, Alex had asked one simple question through all of his taunting: did I leave Harry, or did Harry leave me… as if Alex might find some sort of sick, twisted satisfaction if the latter occurred. In me having my heart shattered and wounded beyond repair, in the only way it never has been. The only way I ever had control of preventing.

Not to mention that I don’t even know if Harry and I really are over. In fact, that is the last thing I want, and as my heart contracts fitfully at my intense sadness I heatedly peer down at the pendant resting innocently on my chest, still after everything. I couldn’t stop wearing it, one of my only connections to Harry though his forced absence.

“Is everything alright?” My voice shakes and quivers pitifully with the small, soft question, but I at least pluck up the courage to ask at all. At Louis’ side, I remain as tense, pensive and worried as ever. Even after all that has happened, my concern for Harry still rockets through the roof. Though it is silly because I saw him not minutes ago, my throat tightens at the remembrance of several other times in my life when I have gotten terrible news about my loved ones. When my father died, I happened to be with Mom for a week in New York City during summer vacation. After that, Caleb and I were supposed to spend several more weeks with him at the cabin upstate. I was in the backyard playing innocently with my brother, back when we were just kids and had nothing like addictions and debt hanging over our heads, and Mom called Caleb into the house first. Having been five years older than me at the age of thirteen, Caleb had yelled and screamed and cried within the house, and as soon as I heard it through the back door I’d paused in my mindless play in our sandbox, knowing better than I should have that something was terribly wrong, despite being so young and naïve.

As a child Caleb was so quiet and soft-spoken, even when around people he was comfortable with, so to hear him break down and release every single one of his heart-wrenching emotions was one of the biggest shocks of my life. It had scared me, but I don’t recall any terrified flutters of my heart back then. Because I didn’t know. Dad didn’t even know.

Then, as I halted with a plastic miniature shovel in one hand and my eyes unfocussed while I had stared at our sloppy sand castle, there was the unmistakable sound of the front door slamming shut, Caleb having run away, and for a good ten minutes I had sat out there in my mother’s tiny backyard, frozen, as that uneasy feeling I have come to know so well swamped my system. In fact, I sat there until Mom emerged again, without Caleb, and I recall having looked up to her as she sat down beside me in the sandbox. And I asked her what was wrong, after seeing her red eyes and the slight wrinkles which creased her forehead. Right there, as my fingers subconsciously dug into the sand and clenched into painful fists, my mother told me in no uncertain terms that I would never see my father again.

Back in the present, I try bravely to keep that same sinking feeling at bay, panic rising up past it despite my best efforts. Everyone is okay. I saw Harry with my own eyes—but why on earth was he so upset? I need him. I need to see him again. I need to make sure he is okay, that nothing like what happened to me has happened to him.

“Yes, yes. Everything is fine, Jules.” Louis smiles in reassurance, trying to ease my obvious worries. In return I nod stiffly, the movement automatic, even though I don’t agree. Nothing is okay.

“Well, is Harry okay? I should have…” My voice dies. I should have what? Louis wouldn’t have let me get out past that door to see him while he was trying to get through the other man. All I did was watch, hopelessly, as the man who I love so much broke down in anger and was hauled away.

“You shouldn’t have done anything, not just now,” Louis says with a wave of his hand in easy dismissal, gaze concentrated straight ahead. Even so, I stare at him desperately. “But he’s fine. More or less. Something set him off today, which led us to where we are now, and my needing to speak with you.”

Before I can question any further—like what set him off and why he feels the need to talk to me—Louis points straight ahead. Finally, I look up only to realize we are out nearly on top of one of the more popular beaches, as close to Lake Michigan as we can get while still in the city, and we both make our way across the busy street to eventually sit down on the hot sand overlooking the vast view of the water. Did I really space out, caught in my own thoughts, for the several blocks it took to get out here?

I must have. And Louis seems not have minded in the slightest, just as quiet and reflective as I feel. Compulsively, I dig my hands into the sand to feel its warmth against the cool breeze of the lake’s water. Louis leans back with a soft sigh and closes his eyes, basking in the sunlight for a moment, which I assume is in preparation to launch into whatever he needs to tell me, his delayed explanation for all the bizarre events taken place so far today.

Next to him, with a healthy foot or two of distance between us, I remain stiff and waiting.

“I don’t know what happened between you two,” he begins abruptly, startling me. I almost didn’t expect him to be so blunt… but then again, he is Harry’s friend. “And I don’t really care, to be honest. Not that I don’t like you, Julia. Because I do. You make him happy. All I want to know is when you two fools are going to stop being so stubborn and make up.”

Regret and shame floods through me yet again. Out of the two of us, Harry isn’t the one being stubborn. Louis clearly is talking directly to me, and is just trying to be kind about it. If I weren’t so set on avoiding Harry, we probably could have resolved this issue long ago. But that’s not how I work, because when I get hurt I tend to stay hurt for a very, very long time. I could have avoided all of this had I just been honest from the very beginning.

I stare at my hands after taking them out from the sand and wring them together tightly, otherwise resisting my constant urge to fidget because I know Louis is staring, observing my every move while I try to deliberate some sort of acceptable answer. To his credit he waits patiently for me to get my crap together. The thing is—I can’t come up with a single thing.

“I… I’m sorry, Louis,” I break off before my voice can betray me altogether, it having wobbled on his name. “I wish it was that simple.”

As simple as a couple of fools like Harry and I kissing to make up. I really do. But things were said, promises were broken, and trust is something I cannot find. In myself, mostly. Harry, if anything, is the victim in this situation.

Our situation in Louis’ perspective must be fairly different from how we see it. To him, Harry and I probably resemble more of a young couple fighting over something silly, something not worth anyone’s while. To him all this conflict most likely seems pointless, over nothing. For a moment I almost agree with him, but then I remember the secrets kept—apparently not just by me—and the impact they have all had for being kept hidden for so agonizingly long.

There is so much more to the story that what meets the eye… Harry’s mysteries which he refuses to uncover, my heart… and just like I knew it was capable of tearing us apart, I know none of this can be resolved until we both come clean and reveal our true selves to each other.

A clean slate, so to speak.

Of course, out of all of this how much of it can I say to Louis? Almost nothing. Because Harry has obviously had the decency to remain silent about all our troubles, most all of which I have incited, and so I simply don’t have the heart to break his trust even more.

“It could be, you know,” he sighs, voice light though tinged with a serious, underlying weight. I start to shake my head in meek disagreement, but he continues anyway. All I can do is sit and watch as he gives me as true an outsider’s opinion as I am going to get, realizing that perhaps I really should listen to him.

After all—as far as I can tell into Harry’s private life, Louis is his best friend. “If you stopped ignoring all his attempts at making things right.”

Stiffening, I know straight away that he isn’t impressed at all with my recent behaviour, every one of my avoidant actions he’s undoubtedly caught some wind of in the last two weeks. To him, it all must look childish, ignoring Harry like a three year old who didn’t get her way. But when I am scared, hurt and angry all at once, this is what I do. I turn away from the issue which started it all in the first place.

Right as I come to terms with the fact that I messed up big time, again, I also comprehend that I don’t want to any more. I don’t want to run from Harry. I don’t want him to leave me, either. If my heart could get past the barrier constructed so long ago, if I could get past the guilt—guilt that I myself am at the root of all the damage in our relationship—I would do the exact opposite. I would throw myself at Harry and beg for understanding, forgiveness, and acceptance. Love.

All of which he has already given me, so selflessly. I am an idiot for not having realized it sooner.

If you receive these things and absolutely nothing is expected in return—that is love. Love is what I found, belatedly, and will probably lose. Never again will I make the same mistake, though only because it would be impossible to feel anything close to the same for another person.

“Louis,” I begin, pleading almost, and finally angle my upper body to face him. The look on my face must be one of pure desperation, dark circles underneath my eyes and the seemingly permanent pinch in my brow now the most prominent of my features. My bottom lip is chapped from having bitten it out of constant anxiety. I look like a mess, the only visual representation of how much this has truly affect me, and it’s probably the only reason Louis is going easy on me for hurting his best friend. “I wouldn’t know where to start, or how to explain.”

Explain my life for what it was before Harry found me, broken, sad and so perilously alone. Lacking in love in every sense of the word. Hell, I hated myself for the way I was. And then Harry caused my grey world to finally take root where it previously refused to, and in it everything bloomed. What was once dead has sprung to life, in abundance. He made me see every single thing I was missing, and he offered it to me.

After he hurtled his way through my door and shook up everything I knew and was comfortable with in my meager existence, we worked together, to make everything better… to make me better. I want to tell him why I am the way I am, the reason behind my brokenness. My heart. It would have proved difficult enough weeks ago when I finally decided I was strong enough to tell him. But knowing that he hasn’t been totally truthful, either, gives way to my feeling even less confident that we were ready to face reality.

“Julia,” Louis says suddenly, disregarding my plea for just a moment. I pause in my dismal train of thought to hear what he has to say, if he can help me fix this mess I have made. He chews his lower lip for a few tense seconds in indecision, gaze guarded now. I swallow and make an effort to steel myself for whatever he is about to say.

“Harry—he hasn’t been the same.”

The news is the equivalent to a physical blow, straight to my abdomen the pain seems to ripple throughout my body until it reaches my chest, settling my heart into a restless, uncomfortable pace.

Yes, I saw how furious and utterly pained he was just outside the book store earlier, and my need to calm him down, assure him that everything was fine like he has done so many times for me, was so pronounced I might have even tried to break up the fight if Louis hadn’t stopped me.

At the very start, months ago, my one goal was for Harry to remind unhurt by my selfish sadness and endless issues. Hearing from another person, more proof than even his constant phone calls and imploring messages, that he isn’t okay… to hear that I hurt him… the thought is so disheartening it causes tears to well in my eyes. I steadily blink them back and focus on the never-ending beachfront, of all the people crowded onto the sand and swimming in the water.

Then I remember Harry and his way of ‘suggesting’—which is actually just a polite order with that posh, forgivable accent of his—I remember him murmuring late at night about his plans for the time he wanted to take off from work. That he wanted to go swimming in the lake, at night, with me. I had told him I was afraid of swimming, but the truth is I can’t at all, because of my heart.

People with my condition… well, it tends to worsen in water. There are innumerable accounts of children drowning because the physical exercise was too much for their fragile little hearts to handle. In the water, if they pass out as is usually the case when those goddamned electrical impulses cannot keep up with the heart, they stand no chance.

Of course, I couldn’t have told Harry any of that.

It might even be a lie—because mostly it occurs when the condition goes undetected, and is only discovered after it is too late. I could probably swim just fine now, without my medication and someone was with me. If Harry was with me.

In fact, I did many times at the cabin with dad and so did he… but now, I am far too afraid.

“What do you mean?” I dare to ask, wavering after I inhale a pained, short breath at the confirmation of Harry’s hurting.

“He’s…” Another pause, and now I am really worried. It’s as if he is unable to find words to describe Harry in his current state. “Angry. At himself.”

“But this is my fault!” Bursting, the insistent truth falls from my mouth as soon as I hear such a thing. “Why would he be mad at himself?”

“Why don’t you ask for yourself? Call him, love. He’s not good without you.”

Not good without you. The single short sentence is capable of rendering me totally and utterly immobile, it holding so much heart aching meaning and implication. I lapse into silence, my ears ring with sudden shock, and the words are slow to sink in fully. After a tense moment, I emit a shaky sigh and brace a palm under my chin, staring out into the lake yet unable to see all of its beauty with my clouded thoughts.

“I’m don’t know.” Louis nods to my unsatisfactory response, as if only as much can be expected from me in such a state, all while his claims repeat themselves over and over. He’s not good without you.

Without you.

“That’s another thing I need to touch base with, and I want to be blunt,” he continues to speak in soft tones, somehow aware of how hard this conversation is for me to have, and I straighten in anticipation at his warning.

Unblinking, he regards me neutrally for a few short seconds, and I wait through it with wrung together hands and a sinking feeling in my stomach; waiting under normal circumstances is difficult enough, but now with so much anticipation and worry, I feel physically sick.

“I knew your brother.”

The time, amounting to no more than another few transient moments, ticks by both so slowly it feels never-ending and so quickly I find it hard to process anything at all apart from the clear mentioning of Caleb. My brother. From a complete, total stranger, who shouldn’t know anything about me.

How is it that an entire year later after his death, the life and past he kept so diligently from his little sister, the worst parts of it are only now coming back on me? Far too many times I have been forced to think of Caleb and the enormous burden left to Alex to pay off my brother’s debt, to feel every lingering, excruciating drop of pain I managed to douse with a heap of numb acceptance. Acceptance that he is gone, and to finally allow him to rest peacefully.

Now it all seems to be coming back at once, on top of me and so overwhelming, and my delayed reaction of blinking back tears and looking away from Louis, unable to bear the pain, is one he also seemed to expect. I sense sympathy. Because he knows, for some reason, how hard I would take this new information.

Maybe Harry let on about more than I thought. Maybe he told Louis about all the pathetic moments I shared with him, so vulnerable in front of a man I showed all my pain and fears to, and maybe in his own hurt and anger he shared it all with someone else. To add another contradicting emotion onto my plate, I feel angry at Harry even though it isn’t clear whether or not he really did. Hell, I can’t say I would blame him if he did, but I am still hurt. And when I get hurt, I eventually get angry.

Wisely, I choose not to take any of it out on Louis. After all, he is merely a concerned friend acting in Harry’s—everyone’s—best interests. He remains silent next to me, waiting for my reaction, and quietly studies people on the beach in front of us, the loud shouting and laughter between happy families and friends as quiet as a whisper to us, so far away. With what seems to be unlimited patience, he waits until I find a rational thought in my racing, inarticulate mind.

“How?” I finally manage to voice just one of my many questions for this mysterious man. The one word feels empty and lost when it slips past my parted lips, falling limp into the confusing tension Louis has just induced. He shifts his weight onto one arm, blue eyes bright and almost translucent in appearance while in direct contact with the sun’s powerful rays. Taking a deep breath, he glances at me once as if in preparation for a long, complicated story. I find myself unable to endure the intensity in his stare and quickly look out onto the horizon. I don’t breathe, don’t even turn my head to try and decipher the emotions surely playing across his expression.

All I think about is how I let everyone down. Caleb, Alex, Harry. Everyone. And now Louis’ implication with my brother is even more worrisome.

“Mutual friends,” he explains quietly, and I bite my lip. I imagine they could not have been very good mutual friends to Louis, seeing as toward the end of his life Caleb surrounded himself with others like him, lost souls addicted to a substance to get them through a life they don’t want to live. “But I’m not here to disrespect or speak ill of him, Julia. I just want to explain where my concern stems from with you and Harry.”

Shifting, I feel my heart give an unsteady jolt, and my head snaps toward Louis in surprise. I find his expression totally unreadable. His mouth isn’t stretched into an animated, cheerful smile, though slightly parted in sympathy, and his eyes are as deep as one dimensional sheet of paper. He gazes at me, non-judgmental and sincere in his interest.

“Concern?” I question, still with my one worded response, but I don’t know how else one could reply to this. Is it an accusation? What could Caleb have to do with Harry and I?

“Yes,” he confirms, nodding again to himself while he tries to find the right words to say, and after swiping his tongue over his lips, he continues. “Because I knew your brother, it led me to wonder—and I mean absolutely no disrespect, love—if you might enjoy keeping the same sort of company… and habits.”

More silence ensues when Louis finally admits where all of this is coming from, and I know straight away, back at The Castle, that he did react to my last name. Because of Caleb—and that is why he was so reserved for the rest of the night.

When I say nothing, shocked from my wits yet again, he continues his explanation. “Of course you have to see I’m only looking out for my friend, Julia, and for you. You’re too good for any of that. But I know from first-hand experience how easy it is to become caught up in any of that business.”

A total one eighty degree difference from the slowed workings of my numbed, hazy consciousness, I react instantly and with intensity to Louis’ question. This is the most emotion I have outwardly shown in weeks, and blood rushes through my upper body to my head in a heavy, dizzying heat while I swivel to fully face Louis, shocked.

“No!” I practically shout, my wide, bloodshot eyes almost as telling of my reaction as my slackened jaw. “What? Louis, I don’t—I have never done drugs. What—”

Though he didn’t actually have to voice his assumptions or questions as bluntly as I answered them, he didn’t have to. If anyone knew Caleb, they knew his issue. His habit, which continually spiraled out of control until he lost it altogether. Instead of arguing or calling me a liar, Louis only nods and smiles slightly in acceptance, but it isn’t good enough for me. He needs to know.

“I am not my brother,” I finish brokenly, resigned. All along it has been a clear knowledge to me that the stigma of addiction is carried by more than just the sufferer, and this with Louis is a perfect, prime example. However, I don’t have it in me to feel offended, don’t have the nerve to. Because it is very easy to see myself in his eyes, if I had a friend—Vivian, for example, who just so happened to be getting serious with a guy… who just so happened to be close, related by blood, to someone who died of a drug overdose? While I might feel guilty about such a snap judgment, I would admittedly be at least a little suspicious too.

For a moment my mind takes me away to Caleb, to the night of his death, to the cause written on the coroner’s report, of all the different names of drugs which I couldn’t and still cannot pronounce found in his system. But really, he had fallen in the bathroom after he passed out following a binge and hit his head on the edge of the bathtub in his squalor of an apartment. If that hadn’t happened, he might have been able to be saved. He might still be here, if only he hadn’t been so alone and alienated by all those he loved.

I blink rapidly to keep myself from crying and focus on Louis, who stares at me with a softer gaze and no trace of a smile, realizing that I am telling the truth. I could never be like Caleb, I could never take the gift given to him at birth, the gift of healthy heart, for granted. And I could never cause such immense hurt to those around me because of my own selfish decisions.

In reality I sort of have done that, albeit on a smaller level, with Harry. I hurt him because of my idiotic need to suffer alone. Actually—I always end up hurting someone, somehow… but never like I have with Harry, and never in some twisted logic that by doing so will somehow protect him.

When it comes down to hard truths and realities I am now forced to face, I can’t blame Louis for being a good friend. As if only know sensing the full extent of my emotional instability, he reaches forward and grabs hold of my hand, but his touch doesn’t bring near the same amount of comfort that Harry’s doesn’t—not even close. “I believe you, Jules. But I had to ask, even though I knew all along. I had to be sure. If you are in trouble, you know you have all of us to help you, right?”

“All of who?” I ask dumbly, surprised by his offer of support.

He smiles. “Me. Harry. El. Everyone you met at the club, basically. Even Liam, that bloke who held your dear boyfriend back. We all want this to work itself out.”

“Really?” The awe in my voice is almost palpable, and rightly so given my loner status throughout all of these years. To think that I have all these people here for me, regardless of how well we may or may not know each other, is nearly earth shattering for me to process.

“Really.” He grins, giving my hand a squeeze while he looks at me fondly. I relax, if only slightly, and think about it again. I have people here for me. “I know these past weeks haven’t been easy on you. Harry won’t give me any details, you know. I’d say he was sworn to secrecy or something if I didn’t know better, and so of course I was left to speculate and draw my own conclusions.”

“It’s not that,” I assure him once again, quiet as I slip my hand out from underneath his, and I turn back to face the beach again. Now suddenly all of his behavior in the past really does make sense. Such hesitancy after he discovered my last name—I should have known. All this time, he suspected I was involved in the same things Caleb was. Oh, god. While Alex is trying his damnedest to pull me into it, it would just not be a possibility.

“I’ve never even smoked before. For the record,” I smile bitterly in return. A drug problem on top of everything else? Then I really would be an irreversible mess, especially with my heart. “It’s just—we had an argument.”

My eventual, obviously lacking explanation of what happened to separate Harry and I after we were, for lack of a better word, inseparable is mumbled, shy. I wish I had something better to tell him, but now I don’t even want to rehash the memory. Vivian only knows the bare minimum herself. But she is pissed. “And we… we couldn’t come to an agreement, so I left, and I haven’t seen him since then—except for today.”

I finish lamely with a hard swallow and bite the inside of my lip, the slight pinch nothing in comparison to what I feel right now, when I think of Harry. Of Harry and I, apart, and I don’t know how much longer I can stand it.

Louis laughs good-naturedly at my rambled, useless less reply, thankfully amused that I am just as private about my life with Harry as his friend is.

“Yes,” he says on a light chuckle. “That’s usually what happens in arguments.” I smile wryly though watered down vision, not quite as bitter now with Louis’ small dash of humour added to the situation. Then, just as quickly as my smile is forced out, it is wiped off at the thought of Harry. Today, so outraged, so out of his mind.

Something is wrong, and I should not be smiling.

“What happened?” I ask once more, not meaning to change the subject, but unable to help myself. Harry needed me earlier, today. And I wasn’t even brave enough to go out and be there for him, as he has been there for me so many times. Yet again drowned by my guilt. Guilt for things which cannot be undone, things which are all my fault.

“I’m not even sure,” he relents through a sigh. “Me and the lads were summoned to his place after he called me and the next thing we knew Harry was barreling through, totally crazed and irrational, heading for his…“ Louis stops himself, casting me a long, weary side glance, as if surprised at himself for what he was about to reveal. If I were sitting on a chair, I would be at the edge of my seat in anticipation.

But I know, however, that this may be all I will get out of Louis about Harry. It’s not his place to tell me, I know, and in a moment he will probably try and talk me into calling Harry again. I’ll admit, the thought of hearing his voice, even if angered and absolutely terrifying as he sounded today, I would feel better.

Past all the guilt, confusion, and hurt, I am grateful to Harry for not having spilled any details of our argument at The Castle or the reason behind it with his friends. If Louis knew the truth, I suspect he wouldn’t lend me as much sympathy as he is right now.

“How has he been?” I press at the appearance of Louis’ silence, abandoning the hope he will continue his previous sentence. I want more details, more than he’s not good without you. He can’t shut down yet, not when he is my only source of Harry information. Desperate to find out what he has been up to these last weeks, I have nothing else to go on other than the phone messages and texts; his desperate, raspy, pleading tone asking me to just talk to him.

Much like I am talking with Louis, right now. But why do I find such a feat so impossible with Harry? Perhaps it’s because Harry means infinitely more to me. He is, quite literally, my world. He shed his light on me when I was at my darkest, and I owe him so much.

Once again, if Louis knew… I feel as if this really is my fault. Yes, Harry may have his secret and issues and he isn’t totally innocent in this situation, but I am the one who forced him into beginning our relationship based on lies and promises that would only aid me in keeping them. Truths which never should have been kept and promises which should never have had to be made.

Just as a house built on a foundation settled in sand, fluid and never concrete, it wasn’t long before it took some harsh currents to wash all our progress away.

Louis doesn’t blink, doesn’t hesitate with his blunt answer. “A mess.”

An intense wave of remorse washes through me like a thick surge of nausea. A visible shudder ripples through my midsection as the unbearable feeling of my heart contracting painfully catches all my attention. So intense, it causes my shoulders to wrack from the uncomfortable feeling. In an effort to distract Louis’ close attention I wring my hands together and look at him in desperation. Harry is suffering. Harry hasn’t been the same, he’s a mess. Another shocking, painful upsurge of fluttering palpitations ensnares my heart, and my breath hitches as my lungs fight for oxygen and my vision dots with black.

Oh, no. Not today.

All this a physical result of the immense pain his reconfirmed news brings, Louis sits forward and looks at me worriedly. No fool, he has surely noticed my physical reaction, but I bet he doesn’t know I am on the verge of fainting.

This is why I should probably tell everyone I meet of my heart, in case something like this happens.

But I have to be stubborn, afraid of weakness—which is a contradiction in itself, and I keep all of this hidden. And it all comes back to hurt me in the end.

“I’m sorry,” I spill before he can ask what’s wrong, voice a slight tremor in comparison to his smooth, sure tone. The minuscule words shake as hard as my hands, still wrung together and quaking.

Pathetically, I don’t know what else to say. I am sorry, though. So fucking sorry, for everything, for having started this mess. Even though if I am totally honest about my own selfish feelings, I wouldn’t change giving myself a chance, for Harry giving me the chance at such a different, wonderful life.

Deep down, it’s all I ever wanted.

“You don’t apologize to me, Julia. You need to talk to Harry—because I don’t know how much longer I can stand to see him like this. That’s why I came to talk to you. Not about what happened today, even though it’s what led me here at this moment. You need to know what’s happening with him. You can’t ignore this any longer.”

He stands up slowly, offering me his hand, and I gratefully accept it before he gently helps me to my feet. My legs feel as if they can’t even hold themselves up, but I stay erect, but meek and shivering even though it is sweltering outside. “I’m not ignoring him though,” I try, but that too falls flat.

I am ignoring him, just like I ignore everything that hurts me. But Harry didn’t purposefully hurt me—this I know. And there’s no way I could ever, ever forget him. Not even if I tried.

A hard lump steadily forms at the base of my throat. While I have no idea, really, the true reason behind Harry’s sudden appearance and Louis’ visit, I sense their serious nature, and have to be real with myself. I am ignoring him. It may be all I am cowardly enough to do, but it is so very wrong.

Louis made me see this, today. So he has certainly accomplished something—this conversation hasn’t been in vain.

“You need to figure out what’s happening. With you and Harry. And for the love of god, just talk to him. That’s all he wants. He misses you. If you don’t soon, he’ll go mad.”

“I will.” I murmur, meaning it, while still unsure if I actually can.

“And Julia?” He inquires one more time as we begin to make our way up from the beach. I look to him questioningly, still dazed. “That bloke, back at the shop? Don’t trust him.”

Notes

Oh snap. What more can I say? Lots revealed in this chapter, and the next couple, one of which is in Harry's POV, will be bottom line cray. I can't hardly wait for you to read it!

I bet you didn't expect to see me back in less than two weeks with my recent track record for updating either! Haha. But I was serious. I'm here to stay now!

Okay. A couple of things to address today, one of which has been brought up before. Tumblr is a nice place. A wonderful place. I give you guys my url to share your thoughts about the story if you'd like to do so anonymously, which is totally welcomed. Criticism is also welcomed! But, I do want to point out there is a large difference between constructive feedback and plain hate. And I want to put this out there: I will not respond to hate, especially if it is anon, and it will be promptly deleted. It will neither affect how this story is written nor keep me from writing at all. That's all I've got to say on this front.

Lastly: in the past couple of days I have found this story posted on other websites by people I did not give permission to do so. This, simply put, is plagiarism. It makes it slightly better if these people state that the story is not their own, but only if they link back to me. Please, please, I just ask for one thing: ask me first. I'm not mean, and will most likely agree.

Now, folks. This concludes today's long-winded author's note. Please do comment, share your thoughts! Any predictions for what will take place in the next chapter? And I want to thank you all for your contiued reading, commenting, and support. It truly does mean the world to me that you've stuck by this story and me through thick and thin!