you're cold and I burn (on hold)

That answer isn’t good enough, <strong>and</strong> Louis’ never been any good at knowing when to stop, “I
know why you didn’t come here tonight, <strong>and</strong> I think that you knew I’d figure it out.”
Harry stays quiet, his breathing is deep, chest heaving with the attempt of calming him down,
Louis can tell it isn’t working but he pushes on, “He’s an ass, Harry, you shouldn’t have changed
for him, you shouldn’t change for anyone.”
Silence.
“There’s nothing wrong with who you are, what you like, what you wear, do you underst<strong>and</strong> me?
I’m trying to help you, I wish you would fucking talk to me.”
When Harry doesn’t reply again, Louis feels the last ounce of patience he had snap in two. His
whole body is flooded with anger <strong>and</strong> heat, his h<strong>and</strong>s tingling <strong>and</strong> his muscles clenching. “You’re
giving me the silent treatment now, kid?”
“Stop calling me ‘kid,’"
“Stop acting like one.”
“What do you want me to say, Louis? That I’m sorry? Sorry for what? That you’re right? I think
that goes without saying. I didn’t change for him, I changed for me. Because I didn’t like who I
was, I knew it wasn’t really me, it had nothing to do with Royce.”
“You’re telling me that you want to pretend you’re someone else because that’s what you want?
And that it had nothing to do with the fact that someone broke your heart, used you <strong>and</strong> degraded
you?”
“It was my choice, it was what I wanted.”
The car is too hot now, it’s sweltering <strong>and</strong> the space is too small. Louis is so agitated, because he
doesn’t underst<strong>and</strong>. He can’t grasp why Harry would want to change the way he was, all on his
own accord <strong>and</strong> how that just doesn’t fit with the analysis Zayn had come up with. Those small
traits of Harry, they were hidden with an undertone of embarrassment, of being ashamed, not
something Harry would be proud of.
If Harry’s truthful, he actually did want to be a different person, change his attitude <strong>and</strong> the way
he dressed, the way he acted <strong>and</strong> the way he portrayed himself, Louis could accept that. He could
go with it, learn to underst<strong>and</strong> where Harry is coming from. But it’s the hesitation in Harry’s
words, the way his phrases are tight <strong>and</strong> forced, it seems rehearsed, like he had been waiting for
the moment his lips could mold around the letters <strong>and</strong> let them out. It all seems fake <strong>and</strong> it doesn’t
sit well with Louis.
“Ok,” Is what Louis decides to say, <strong>and</strong> it doesn’t relieve the pressure between him <strong>and</strong> Harry,
because neither of them are being sincere, not even a little bit.
It doesn’t take long before they’ve arrived back at the flat, <strong>and</strong> Harry throws the car into park with
enough force to move the entire vehicle. And Louis opens his door with the same amount of
anger, both of their feet pounding heavily onto the concrete sidewalk <strong>and</strong> Louis’ eyes are pinned
to the back of Harry’s leather jacket <strong>and</strong> now he hates what it represents, he wants it to <strong>burn</strong>, he
wants to see Harry wearing those sweaters he used to love.
And Harry’s shoulders are squared <strong>and</strong> tight because he knows that Louis isn’t letting this go.
Which is exactly right. So, Louis’ letting the anger build up, he’s letting his heart rate speed <strong>and</strong>
his h<strong>and</strong>s shake <strong>and</strong> his teeth clench. He’s working himself up because if he doesn’t, he won’t