Chapter 32: Unspoken Pieces of the Truth

Louis lay fast asleep on the hospital bed, his face turned slightly toward the window where soft afternoon light spilled across the room. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, a stark contrast to the tension that had filled the morning. Harry sat beside him in the small chair, arms crossed and legs stretched out, his eyes never straying far from Louis.

The morning had been relentless. Waking up from the lingering haze of sedation through the antidote he had been given had been disorienting enough for Louis, but then he'd insisted on tackling everything at once. First, mobilization—getting up for the first time, his legs shaky but determined to hold him. Then the removal of the catheter, an ordeal that had left him tense and drained. And finally, the shower.

That had been the hardest part, Harry thought, glancing at the slight dampness still clinging to the ends of Louis's hair. Louis had fought his shame tooth and nail, enduring the intimate process with his usual stubborn determination, even managing to crack a few sarcastic remarks despite the humiliation simmering under the surface. But the effort had taken its toll.

By the time Harry had trimmed Louis's beard and helped him into clean clothes, Louis had looked—felt—more like himself, but he'd been completely spent. The moment his head hit the pillow, he'd drifted off, leaving Harry to sit and watch over him.

When the door opened at 12:30, Harry's gaze flicked up, his shoulders relaxing slightly when he saw Lottie and Niall entering the room. They were carrying their usual energy, bright but slightly cautious, their steps quiet as they approached the bed.

"How is he?" Lottie asked softly, her eyes immediately scanning her brother.

Harry gave her a small smile, gesturing to the sleeping figure. "Exhausted, but okay. He's been through a lot today."

Niall raised an eyebrow, curiosity sparking in his expression. "What do you mean? What's he been up to?"

Harry leaned back in his chair, rubbing the back of his neck as he recounted the morning. "Let's see… he woke up fully thanks to the antidote, because during the night he had a panic attack, and the doctors couldn't do anything except sedate him against his will. When he woke up, he was in rough shape—completely out of it, dizzy, and confused. He even threw up." Harry winced at the memory, his voice dipping. "Thank God the nurse was prepared with a basin, or it would've been a disaster. He really suffered."

Lottie's face fell, her brows knitting together in worry. "He must have been terrified… sedating him like that, when he didn't want it…" Her voice trailed off, and she wrapped her arms around herself, visibly unsettled.

Niall nodded, his usual easy demeanor giving way to a more serious tone. "No wonder he had a rough start to the day. That's a lot to deal with—waking up like that."

Harry exhaled, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he shook his head. "Yeah, and then he got out of bed for the first time, had the catheter removed, walked to the bathroom, insisted on taking a shower, and then I trimmed his beard. All of it. In one go."

Lottie and Niall exchanged a look, something unspoken passing between them. It was quick, but Harry didn't miss it—the slight lift of Lottie's eyebrows, the faint twitch of a smirk on Niall's lips.

"That's Louis," Niall said finally, his voice carrying a mix of amusement and resignation.

Lottie nodded, her expression softening despite the worry still clouding her eyes. "He always pushes himself. It's so him." She hesitated for a moment before glancing back at Harry. "But… is he okay now? After everything? He must be completely drained."

Harry ran a hand through his curls, his gaze drifting to the closed door of Louis's room. "He's resting now, but yeah, he's wiped. He'll be okay, though. He has to be."

Lottie nodded, her expression softening, but a worried look resting on her face. "He always pushes himself. It's sohim."

Harry tilted his head slightly, narrowing his eyes. "What's that look for?"

"Nothing," Niall said quickly, a little too quickly. "Just… makes sense, that's all."

Harry's gaze flicked between them, catching the subtle glance they exchanged again. Lottie opened her mouth to say something, but Harry cut her off, his voice calm but firm.

"You mean it makes sense because of the interview this afternoon."

The room went still for a beat, Niall's lips parting in surprise while Lottie blinked, momentarily caught off guard.

"You know about that?" she asked finally, her voice careful.

Harry leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. "Yeah, I know. Phoebe told me." He glanced at Louis's sleeping form, his voice softening. "I talked to him about it. He didn't want me to worry, but… well, here we are."

Lottie let out a quiet laugh, her tension easing. "That sounds about right."

Niall nodded, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "Classic Lou. He's probably pushing himself to the limit so he looks perfect for it."

Harry shrugged, a faint smile lingering on his face. "Wouldn't surprise me. He's always been like that."

There was a moment of quiet as they all turned their attention to Louis, who shifted slightly in his sleep, his lips parting in a soft exhale. Lottie's gaze softened, and she reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from his forehead.

"He's going to kill it," she said confidently, her voice barely above a whisper.

Harry smiled faintly. "Yeah, he will."

Niall glanced at Harry, his expression turning playful. "You know, Haz, you could take a break now. Take your free afternoon, as discussed."

Lottie nodded in agreement, her tone light. "Yeah, go enjoy your free afternoon. You've been here all morning—let us take over for a bit."

Harry's smile faded slightly, replaced with a knowing look. "Nice try, but I'm not going anywhere."

Lottie tilted her head, feigning innocence. "What? We're just trying to be considerate."

Harry raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "You mean you want me out of the way so you can start preparing him without me around."

Niall laughed, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "Alright, you got us. But can you blame us? We're trying to make sure he's ready. That he feels his best."

Harry shook his head, his smile returning. "I'm staying. If Louis wants me to leave, he can tell me himself when he wakes up."

Lottie sighed dramatically, though there was a hint of amusement in her eyes. "Fine, stay. But don't complain when we put you to work."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Harry replied, leaning back in his chair again.

The room settled into a comfortable silence, the three of them content to wait until Louis woke. Harry's eyes drifted back to Louis, a small smile tugging at his lips. He might not admit it out loud, but he wasn't ready to leave Louis's side.

Louis's eyelids fluttered open, and he groaned softly, the weight of exhaustion still heavy in his limbs. But as his gaze adjusted to the soft afternoon light streaming through the window, he noticed two familiar figures near the bed—Lottie and Niall.

"Well, well," Louis rasped, his voice still thick with sleep. "The cavalry's arrived."

Lottie smiled, leaning over to brush a strand of hair from his forehead. "About time you woke up, sleepyhead. We've got work to do."

Louis raised an eyebrow, already sensing her intent as she reached for her makeup bag. "You're not wasting any time, are you?"

"Absolutely not," Lottie replied with a grin, unscrewing the lid of a foundation bottle. "We've got less than an hour before the interview, and I'm not letting you go on camera looking like a ghost. And we need to cover up those bruises—I don't want them showing up in every photo. I don't want you being reminded of them every time you see the pictures."

Louis rolled his eyes but felt a wave of relief at the thought of his painful memories being hidden, even if only temporarily. He didn't protest as Lottie began dabbing makeup onto his skin with practiced precision, her touch as gentle as possible to avoid causing him pain.

Harry, seated in the chair by the bed, watched the scene unfold with a quiet smile. But Louis's attention shifted to him, his expression sharpening slightly as he remembered something important.

"Oi, Haz," Louis said, his tone firm despite the teasing smirk tugging at his lips. "It's nearly one. You know what that means."

Harry frowned slightly, tilting his head. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're not supposed to be here in the afternoons, remember?" Louis said, his voice softening but still insistent. "The plan, Haz. The one we made with Lottie. You need to rest, breathe, and just be yourself—not just be here helping me all the time." He added quietly, "You've been stronger today than anyone has the right to expect. You've done more for me in a few hours than most would in a year for their partner. But you can't always be here. I'm not exactly fun to be around right now."

Harry sighed, leaning forward slightly, his gaze steady. "Louis, after everything this morning—don't you think I should stay? You've got an interview. You might need me. It's probably going to be tough." His voice softened. "You know I'm happy to do anything for you. Always."

Louis shook his head gently, careful not to disturb Lottie's careful work on his face. "You've already done more than enough today, Haz. More than anyone should ever have to." His voice softened, the vulnerability in his words impossible to miss. "Of course, I'd love it if you were here all the time. But that's not how this works. I'll need you—so much, and in ways I can't even explain yet. When that happens, I need you to be strong and unstoppable. And for that, you need to take care of yourself now. I don't want you to burn out because of me. Please, Harry."

Harry's throat tightened at the quiet plea, his mind racing with conflicting emotions. Louis doesn't get to choose when he feels this way—he can't take a break from what's happened. How unfair is it that he's asking me to rest when he doesn't get that luxury?

"I'm fine," Harry said softly, though the words rang hollow even to him.

"No, you're not," Louis replied firmly, meeting Harry's gaze head-on. His voice carried a quiet strength, a certainty that left no room for argument. "And that's okay. You've been my rock all morning—hell, all week. But you can't pour from an empty cup, mate. Go home. Recharge. I'll need you tonight, but right now…" His voice softened, his blue eyes pleading. "Right now, I need you to take care of yourself. Please, Harry. I need you to be reliable, and for that, I have to let you have your breaks. I don't want you to stay with me until you're broken."

Louis paused, his voice trembling just slightly, his vulnerability shining through. "I never want to be without you again—not ever. But for that, you need to be kind to yourself. Take care of yourself, because I rely on you too much right now. That's not normal, and I hate it, but I can't help it because I'm weak right now."

Harry opened his mouth to argue, but Louis pressed on, his tone turning softer but no less insistent. "I want you when you can be here. And when you need a break, I'll manage without you. I've got amazing friends and family. Niall and Lottie are here. You can step away without feeling guilty."

Harry hesitated, torn between the overwhelming pull to stay and the truth in Louis's words. But the sheer unfairness of it all struck him like a blow. How was it that Louis, who'd endured more pain and humiliation than anyone ever should, was still looking out for him? Still trying to protect him, even when he was the one who needed protecting most?

Louis's gaze softened, his hand twitching slightly as if he wanted to reach out but couldn't bring himself to. "Haz… it's not forever. Just for now. Go rest. Come back to me when you're ready."

The words shattered something in Harry, but at the same time, they pieced something together. He nodded slowly, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Alright," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "But I'll be back tonight, Lou. Promise me you'll let Niall and Lottie take care of you until then."

Louis gave a small, tired smile. "I promise."

And as Harry turned to leave, the weight of Louis's quiet bravery stayed with him, a reminder of the strength Louis didn't see in himself but carried every single day.

As Harry stood, there was a knock on the door. Tina and Maggie entered, their cheerful demeanor instantly brightening the room.

"Well, don't you clean up nice!" Tina said with a laugh, her eyes sweeping over Louis's polished appearance.

Maggie's reaction was more pronounced. She stopped mid-step, her eyes widening as she took in the sight of Louis—beard trimmed, dressed in soft but presentable clothes, his skin glowing under Lottie's careful touch. For a moment, she seemed completely lost for words.

"Wow," Maggie finally managed, her voice soft with genuine admiration. "I barely recognize you, Louis. You look… incredible."

Louis raised an eyebrow, a mischievous smirk spreading across his face. "Careful, Maggie. Flattery'll get you everywhere. I'll have to start charging if you keep that up."

Maggie chuckled, shaking her head. "If I were 30 years younger, I don't think I'd be able to concentrate right now."

The room burst into laughter, and Louis leaned back against the pillows, his smirk widening. "Well, thank God for time, eh? Don't want to be responsible for distracting hospital staff." He paused dramatically, his blue eyes sparkling. "Although, Maggie, if you're feeling faint, I'm sure I could recommend someone to revive you. Niall? You're good at mouth-to-mouth, aren't you?"

"Oi!" Niall exclaimed, laughing as he pointed at Louis. "Don't start dragging me into your nonsense. You're on your own here, mate."

"I always am," Louis said with a mock sigh, his hand dramatically over his chest. "The burden of being this devastatingly charming, I swear."

Tina shook her head, grinning as she set down a clipboard. "Good thing you're not any more charming, or we'd never get anything done."

"And where's the fun in that?" Louis shot back. "I'm doing you all a favor, really. Keeps your day interesting."

Tina rolled her eyes fondly and turned to Harry, who was standing by the door, quietly observing the playful exchange. "Good thing he's got you to keep him in line."

Harry chuckled softly, his gaze flicking to Louis. "Oh, trust me, Tina. He's a handful even when he's behaving."

Louis pretended to gasp, his hand flying to his heart. "Harry! Betrayed by my own person! And after everything we've been through this morning. Shocking. Truly shocking."

Maggie laughed, patting Louis's arm lightly. "Don't worry, love. We're still on your side."

"See? That's why Maggie's my favorite," Louis quipped, shooting Harry a mock glare. "She knows how to treat a star patient."

Maggie answered with a grin, "Good thing you're not in my age bracket anymore, Louis, because let's face it, you've only got eyes for Harry anyway."

At that, Louis's cheeks flushed faintly, though he quickly masked it with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. "Unbelievable. Even my favorite betrays me. Maggie, I expected better!"

Maggie chuckled, shaking her head. "Sorry, love. But it's the truth, isn't it?"

Harry, leaning against the doorframe, chuckled as well, his voice warm. "See? You've been exposed, Lou."

Louis smirked, tilting his head with mock defiance. "Alright, fine. But just for the record, I'm the one who keepsyouin line, Styles."

"Sure you do," Harry replied with a laugh, his green eyes crinkling.

Tina nudged Harry lightly. "Go on, then. Let us take over for a bit. Go and take care of yourself."

Harry hesitated, his gaze lingering on Louis for a moment longer. With a small smile, he nodded. "Don't give them too much trouble, Lou."

"No promises," Louis quipped, his grin turning mischievous again. He glanced at Maggie and Tina, a spark of mischief returning to his eyes. "But I'll try my best to only causemanageablechaos."

As Harry stepped out, the room was filled with warmth, Louis's humor lifting the spirits of everyone present. For a moment, it felt almost normal, the lingering heaviness of the morning pushed to the background by his sharp wit and playful energy.

Tina left shortly after, leaving Maggie to handle the afternoon. She moved closer to Louis, setting a small tray with a bowl of pasta and tomato sauce on the table beside him.

"Alright, Mr. Tomlinson," Maggie said with mock sternness. "You've got to eat something before your big moment. Just a few bites."

Louis eyed the bowl warily but nodded. "Fine. But if this tastes like shit, I'm holding you personally responsible."

Maggie laughed as she picked up a fork and twirled a small amount of pasta. "Deal. Now open up."

Louis complied, letting her feed him. The first bite made his throat tighten involuntarily, the taste dragging up memories he desperately wanted to suppress. Memories of the semen in his mouth that clawed at the edges of his mind. But he forced himself to swallow, masking his discomfort with a quick quip. "Not bad. Might need a pinch of salt, though."

Maggie grinned, offering him another bite. "I'll take that as a compliment."

Louis accepted the next forkful, but his shoulders tensed slightly as he swallowed, his eyes betraying the growing struggle to keep the nausea at bay. The effort only seemed to enhance the sharpness of his features—the vivid blue of his eyes standing out even more against the soft hue of his hoodie, a storm of vulnerability and determination swirling within them.

As Maggie leaned in to feed him again, her gaze caught his, and for a moment, she was utterly close,she thought, her breath hitching slightly. Up close, his features were even more striking than she had realized.

His blue eyes, almost painfully clear, seemed to hold a depth that went beyond the humor and sarcasm he often used to mask his pain. They were framed by long, dark lashes that cast soft shadows on his cheeks when he blinked. His boyish nose, slightly upturned at the tip, lent him a youthful charm that contrasted beautifully with the stronger lines of his face—the defined jawline, the faint shadow of stubble framing his cheekbones. His lips, slightly dry but still expressive, curved faintly into a soft, almost hesitant smile.

And then there was the way he carried himself. Even sitting there, leaning back against the pillows, he radiated a kind of quiet magnetism. It wasn't just his looks—it was the way he held her gaze, unflinching but unassuming, as if daring her to look deeper while also inviting her to understand.

"You've got a presence, you know that?" Maggie said softly, almost to herself.

Louis raised an eyebrow, a faint smile tugging at his lips, though his eyes held a flicker of curiosity. "Is that a compliment or a warning?"

"It's both," Maggie replied with a chuckle, shaking her head. "You're going to blow them away this afternoon. You look… incredible, Louis. The kind of incredible that makes people stop and stare."

Lottie, standing beside the bed with her brush poised to add a final touch to his hair, nodded in agreement. "She's right, Lou. You're a showstopper. Always have been."

Louis smirked, leaning back a little more, though the faint blush creeping up his neck betrayed him. "Alright, alright, don't inflate my ego too much. I still have to fit through the door later."

Niall, perched near the window, grinned and chimed in. "Yeah, mate, you look so good it's almost unfair. Watch yourself—you don't want to make the ladies forget how to do their jobs during the interview."

Louis rolled his eyes dramatically, though his smirk deepened. "God forbid I distract anyone. That would be tragic."

"You're not just distracting," Maggie added, her voice carrying a note of teasing warmth. "You're unforgettable."

Harry walked out of the hospital, the sharp chill of the afternoon air biting against his skin. He shoved his hands deep into his coat pockets, his thoughts swirling as he crossed the parking lot. Leaving Louis behind felt wrong, no matter how much sense Louis's arguments made.

Harry understood why Louis had insisted. Louis wanted to give him space, to let him recover after the emotional weight of the morning. He didn't want Harry to have to sit through the interview, hearing Louis recount what had happened to him again. But that didn't make it any easier.

It had been a brutal morning. Harry's heart clenched as his mind replayed the worst moment for himselfs—when he had inadvertently triggered Louis, the terror and desperation in his voice as he begged Harry to stop touching him. The horror of watching Louis recoil, so tightly wound with panic that he could barely breathe.

And then there was the aftermath. Louis, broken but determined, pleading for Harry to come back to him, to sit beside him again. He had pushed himself so hard to allow that closeness, to prove to himself that he could still let someone in. The effort it must have taken… Harry's chest tightened at the thought.

And it didn't stop there. Louis had insisted on having his catheter removed, despite the sheer discomfort and embarrassment of the procedure. He'd endured every second of it, his body tense, his jaw clenched, fighting through the shame that came with every touch in such an intimate area. Harry had seen the way Louis struggled to suppress his panic, to keep his head above water.

Then came the shower—Louis's desperate push for some semblance of normalcy. How he'd insisted on being clean, of feeling like himself again, even though every step, every touch, was laced with discomfort and vulnerability. How his body had tensed at every movement, his expression betraying the internal battle raging within him. He was constantly fighting, with every fiber of his being. Constantly.

It broke Harry to know the kinds of battles Louis was fighting. Every second. Every moment. Without pause. Without a chance to escape, to breathe, or even think of anything else. It was constant, relentless, and Harry could see the weight of it etched into every line of Louis's face.

And yet, despite it all, Louis still tried to lift the spirits of those around him. He cracked jokes, wore his smirks like armor, and carried the conversations with his sharp wit. He worked so hard to make it easier for everyone else—to shield them from the heaviness of what had happened.

Harry knew he needed to take breaks, to pace himself if he wanted to be there for Louis in the long run. But knowing it didn't make it feel any less cruel. He clenched his jaw as he walked faster, his breath fogging in the cold air. It felt inhuman to leave Louis alone with the weight of everything he was carrying.

He's protecting me, Harry thought bitterly. Louis always did that, even when it wasn't necessary, even when it came at his own expense. Even now, after everything.

Harry wiped at his eyes, his throat tightening as tears began to spill. He glanced around, instinctively making sure no one was watching, but it was futile. The tears came anyway, quiet and unrelenting.

Louis doesn't get to take breaks from this, Harry thought, his chest doesn't get a moment to breathe, to step away. How is it fair that I do?

And Louis's pain wasn't just emotional. It was physical. The injuries he carried—the ones that hurt most when he moved, the ones that were impossible to ignore—were constant reminders of the worst night of his life. And yet, Louis still tried to keep going, to keep moving forward.

The memory of Louis's soft voice, his pleading blue eyes, echoed in Harry's mind. "Go home. Recharge. I'll need you tonight. Please, Harry."

Louis was right. The nights were the hardest. That was when the fear crept in, when the memories that Louis couldn't escape became sharper, louder. The panic attacks, the trembling, the gasping for air—Harry had seen it before. He had promised himself he would never let another night go like the last one.

That night had been awful. Harry hadn't been there because it was one of his "free nights," something Louis had agreed to in the plan Lottie had drawn up for them—a schedule that gave Harry three nights a week away from Louis so he could rest. But Harry knew, deep down, that every one of those nights must have been hell for Louis.

And yet Louis had insisted. Because even while drowning in his own pain, Louis still worried about Harry burning out, about him carrying too much.

Tonight, though, Harry would be there. He would stay by Louis's side and make sure he didn't wake up in terror, alone and overwhelmed.

Harry wiped at his eyes again, but the tears kept coming, each one carrying a mix of heartbreak and guilt. He wondered how it must feel for Louis to ask him to leave, to push him away for his own good, even though it was so clear that Louis cherished every second Harry spent with him. Harry could feel it in every look, every word, every small touch.

And yet, Louis still pushed him away because he knew Harry needed it.

The sheer unfairness of it all struck Harry like a punch to the gut. Louis, who had already suffered so much, was now burdened with ensuring that Harry didn't suffer too. He was carrying the unbearable weight of his own trauma while trying to shield Harry from breaking under it.

Harry stopped walking for a moment, leaning heavily against the side of his car as his shoulders shook with quiet sobs. He felt raw, exposed, his emotions threatening to consume him. He wanted to be strong, to give Louis the unwavering support he needed.

But would he be able to keep it up? Would he be strong enough?

He sucked in a shaky breath, wiping his face with trembling hands.I'll be there tonight, he promised himself.I'll be there for him, no matter what.

Harry exhaled heavily as he climbed into his car. If Louis was determined to keep pushing forward, Harry could at least take care of one thing that had been bothering him—Oli.

Oli was Louis's best friend, someone he'd relied on for years, and yet he was nowhere to be seen. Harry didn't know the full story; Louis hadn't mentioned it directly to him, but Phoebe had filled him in. Louis had been devastated when he'd talked to her, his voice heavy with disappointment. Oli's absence felt like a betrayal. He was angry and hurt. After all, Oli was on Louis's payroll—but worse than that, Oli wasn't just an employee; he was supposed to be a friend.

Harry clenched his jaw as he started the car, heading toward Oli's house. Whatever was going on, Oli had to have a good reason. Hehadto. Oli was a good friend—or at least he had been. But that didn't change the fact that Louis needed him now more than ever, and Oli wasn't there.

The drive was short, the silence in the car punctuated only by the low hum of the engine. Harry ran through what he might say, rehearsing arguments and questions in his head, though he wasn't sure it would matter. One thing was certain: he wasn't leaving without answers.

When he pulled up in front of Oli's house, the curtains were drawn, and the place looked eerily still. Harry parked the car and stepped out, his movements brisk and purposeful. As he approached the door, his mind raced, but his resolve was steady.

He knocked firmly, the sound echoing in the quiet street. There was no answer. He tried again, and this time, after a long pause, he heard faint footsteps inside. The door opened just a crack, revealing Oli's face.

Oli looked pale, his eyes rimmed with exhaustion and something Harry couldn't quite place—guilt, maybe? He avoided Harry's gaze, his hand gripping the edge of the door tightly.

"Harry," Oli said quietly, his voice strained. "What are you doing here?"

Harry's brows knitted together, his frustration barely contained. "I could ask you the same thing. Why aren't you at the hospital? Louis needs you. He's been trying to reach you—messages, calls. And you haven't responded."

Oli flinched at the mention of Louis's name, his face tightening. "I can't."

"What do you mean, youcan't?" Harry demanded, his voice rising slightly, the anger seeping through. "He's your best mate. He's been through hell, and you're just… hiding here?"

Oli's grip on the door tightened, and for a moment, Harry thought he might slam it shut. But instead, Oli exhaled sharply, stepping back and opening the door wider. "Come in," he said, his voice clipped.

Harry didn't hesitate this time. He stepped inside, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface. The house was dimly lit, the silence oppressive. Oli motioned toward the living room, and Harry followed, his jaw clenched as he took in the mess—papers, empty mugs, a discarded hoodie on the floor. The disarray felt like a reflection of Oli's state, but Harry wasn't here to analyze.

Oli dropped heavily onto the sofa, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Look, Harry—"

"No," Harry snapped, cutting him off. "I don't want your excuses. I want answers." He stayed standing, looming over Oli like a storm about to break. "Why the hell haven't you been to see him? He's been calling you, messaging you, and you've ignored him. Do you have any idea how much that's hurt him?"

Oli's head jerked up, his expression hardening. "Don't you think I know that?" he shot back, his voice rising. "Don't you think I feel like shit about it?"

Harry's eyes narrowed, his voice turning cold. "Feeling like shit doesn't cut it, Oli. He needed you. He still does. And instead of showing up, you're hiding here, wallowing. What kind of friend does that?"

Oli leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his hands trembling slightly. "You don't get it," he muttered, his tone defensive. "You haven't seen what I've seen—"

Harry barked a bitter laugh, cutting him off. "Haven't I? You mean the picture inThe Sun? The one plastered all over the internet? Yeah, I've seen it, Oli. And guess what? I didn't fucking run away!" His voice cracked, the anger bleeding into something raw. "I stayed. Because that's what Louis needs—someone who doesn't flinch, someone who doesn't make it about themselves."

Oli shot to his feet, his face flushed with anger. "Don't you dare," he hissed, his voice shaking. "Don't you dare stand there and act like I don't care about him. That picture—do you know what it did to me? Seeing him like that? Knowing what they did to him?" His voice cracked, and he turned away, running a hand through his hair. "It's like it's burned into my brain, Harry. Every time I close my eyes, I see it."

Harry's fists clenched at his sides, his voice dropping to a dangerous low. "And you think that gives you a free pass to abandon him? To make this about you instead of his pain? God, Oli, do you even hear yourself? Do you know what that picture did to him? What it did tomewhen he told me what happened? Not just once—for me—but in excruciating detail for the police?"

Oli flinched, his jaw tightening as Harry's words hit home.

Harry took a step closer, his voice steady but brimming with emotion. "He relives it every second of every day. And you're standing here talking about howyoufeel? God, Oli, do you hear yourself?"

Oli turned back around, his anger faltering under the weight of Harry's fury. "I'm not abandoning him," he said, his voice quieter now but still trembling. "I just… I don't know how to face him, alright? How am I supposed to look him in the eye when all I see is what they did to him? How am I supposed to pretend everything's fine when it's not?"

Harry's gaze softened, but only slightly. "You don't pretend, Oli. You don't have to fix it or say the perfect thing. You just show up. You sit with him. You let him know he's not alone. Because that's what he needs right now. Not your pity, not your excuses— if you can't do that, then you're not the friend I thought you were."

Oli's breath hitched, his shoulders slumping as Harry's words sank in. "You think I don't want to be there for him?" he asked quietly, his voice cracking. "I'm terrified, Harry. What if I say the wrong thing? What if I make it worse?"

Harry's voice softened, though the edge of frustration remained. "It's not about saying the right thing. It's about being there. Louis doesn't need perfection, Oli. He just needs you to show up."

Oli sank back onto the sofa, his head dropping into his hands. His body trembled slightly, and for a moment, Harry thought he might finally agree.

But then Oli looked up, his face pale and drawn, and hesitated. "I'll try," he said quietly. "But there's something else."

Harry's brows furrowed, his patience fraying but his curiosity piqued. "What do you mean, 'something else'?"

Oli's hands gripped the edge of his knees as he avoided Harry's gaze. "It's not just the picture. It's not just me being scared to face him." His jaw tightened, his voice growing quieter. "There's something Louis doesn't know. And I don't know how to tell him."

Harry straightened, the simmering anger giving way to sharp focus. "What don't I know, Oli? What doesn't he know?"

Oli hesitated, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. "I'm scared, Harry. If I tell him, I don't think he'll ever forgive me."

The room seemed to shrink under the weight of Oli's words, and Harry took a step closer, his voice low and firm. "What have you done, Oli?"

Oli shifted uncomfortably on the sofa, his hands fidgeting in his lap. He couldn't meet Harry's piercing gaze, his shoulders curling inward as though trying to shield himself from the weight of what he was about to say.

"I know one of them," Oli began, his voice barely above a whisper.

Harry froze, his body going rigid. The air in the room seemed to thicken, and his pulse pounded in his ears. "One of who?" he demanded, though the dread blooming in his chest told him he already knew.

Oli's jaw tightened, and he finally looked up, his eyes filled with a mix of shame and fear. "One of the men who attacked Louis. He's been arrested today—Thomas. Black hair. Big, over six feet. Charismatic. The kind of guy people naturally follow. He always wore this flashy jacket—expensive, noticeable. You'd know him if you saw him."

Harry's chest constricted, anger surging like a tidal wave. "Youknowhim?" he spat, his tone razor-sharp. "How the fuck do you know him, Oli?"

Oli leaned back, dragging his hands over his face, his voice muffled and thick with guilt. "I… I knew him from a bar. We drank together a few times—mostly after you came back into Louis's life."

Harry's eyes narrowed, his fists trembling at his sides. "Explain."

Oli exhaled shakily, his voice faltering. "Thomas… he knew about you. About Louis. About how close you are. About how much he loves you. I told him. In a bar. Weeks ago."

Harry's breath caught in his throat, his disbelief twisting into fury. "Youwhat?" His voice thundered, filling the room. He stepped closer, his fists clenching tighter. "Youtold him? What the hell did you say?"

"I didn't mean to!" Oli shouted, frustration and guilt colliding in his tone. "It wasn't like that, okay? It was weeks before the attack. We were drinking, and I was venting about Louis. About how different he was since you came back. How he spent all his time with you—always with you. How he didn't have time for anyone else anymore. He took you to LA, and I didn't even get a say. My girlfriend was worried I'd lose my job because he wasn't giving me anything to do. I was jealous, Harry. I didn't think—"

"You didn't think?" Harry interrupted, his voice booming with rage. "You didn't think that telling some random guy intimate details about Louis's life might have fucking consequences? That you might've handed a goddamn monster everything he needed to destroy him?"

Oli sprang to his feet, his face flushed with anger and shame. "Don't you dare lecture me, Harry!" he snapped, his voice rising. "You don't know what it's like to feel invisible! He was my best friend, and then you waltz back into his life, and suddenly, I'm nothing again! It's always been like this with you—Louis drops everything the second you're around! During the band, during the pandemic, and now. It's always been Harry this, Harry that!"

Harry's disbelief twisted into fury, his voice trembling with rage. "You're telling me you betrayed him because you were jealous? Because you couldn't handle the fact that he was happy? Even though you're happy with your girlfriend? And Louis isn't allowed to be? Do you even hear yourself, Oli?"

"I wasn't trying to hurt him!" Oli yelled, his voice cracking. "I didn't know that guy would ever see him, let alone—" He broke off, his hands shaking as he raked them through his hair. "It was a fucking coincidence, Harry! Louis interrupted them when they were going after those girls. That's when Thomas recognized him. I didn't plan this!"

Harry stepped closer, his voice dangerously low, each word cutting like a blade. "You didn't plan it, but you handed them the weapon they used to break him. You told him everything. That Louis is gay, that he's with me, how to use me against him. And now you're sitting here, hiding like a fucking coward."

Oli's voice cracked as he snapped, "I'm not hiding, Harry! I just—" He faltered, his voice lowering into something almost desperate. "Thomas came to see me the day after it happened."

Harry froze, the words cutting through his anger like a knife. "What?"

Oli looked away, his face pale. "I went to the bar that night. I was drowning the guilt after seeing the article. And he found me."

Harry's fists clenched tighter, his knuckles turning white. "What did he say, Oli?"

Oli's breathing was uneven, his voice shaking as he continued. "He laughed, Harry. He said Louis put up a fight. That he was a good puncher, broke one of his friend's chins. But they 'showed him.' He said they beat him, raped him. He said Louis might be so broken he'd never use a bathroom the same way again. And then…" Oli's voice cracked, tears welling in his eyes. "He said Louis was 'needy.' That he came. That he liked it. And they made sure he thought about you every second. They used your name to hurt him, Harry."

Harry staggered back as if the words had physically struck him. His entire body vibrated with rage, his vision blurring. "And you didn't tell Louis? Or the police?" His voice was low, trembling with barely contained fury.

"I couldn't," Oli whispered, his voice trembling. "Thomas is dangerous. What if he came after me? After Louis? He said they'd already broken him. What if—"

"What if what?" Harry roared, his voice cracking with the weight of his anger. "What could he possibly do that's worse than what he's already done? You didn't go to the police because you were scared? You let him keep walking free while Louis was suffering?"

Oli collapsed back onto the sofa, his face buried in his hands. "I didn't know how to fix it, Harry. I didn't know what to say. How do I tell Louis I'm the reason they knew how to hurt him? How do I tell him it's my fault they used you to break him?"

Harry's voice dropped, cold and unrelenting. "You tell him the truth. You go to the police. You tell themeverythingabout Thomas. Because if you don't, I will. And I won't hold back, Oli. I'll make sure Louis knows every single detail—including the fact that you let that bastard think it was some sick gift to you."

Oli's shoulders shook with silent sobs as Harry turned on his heel and stormed to the door. He yanked it open, slamming it shut behind him.

As he climbed into his car, his hands trembled on the steering wheel, his vision blurred by the searing anger and heartbreak coursing through him. For Louis's sake, he couldn't let himself break. Not yet. Not until this was set right.