Coming Home

Tuesday. I don't remember Tuesday. I remember crawling into the bathroom. That's all I do remember. The rest I choose not to.

****
Wednesday.

There are thoughts and ideas and maybe a smidgen of hope in my mind.

There is emptiness and pulsing; a sort of black cloud covering my heart.

It's Wednesday and I think I've gone mad for the second time in the nineteen years I've been alive. Harry never came back. And somehow that wasn't what had my stomach in a twist and the need to vomit in my throat. No. What had me feeling useless and hollow had been the sheer, childlike, hope I still feel that he'll walk through the door and tell me I'll be okay. That he didn't mean to walk away. He was just upset and needed to get away.

But it's Wednesday evening and slowly my sanity and faith in people, in Harry, is diminishing.

I feel-- I'm not sure what I feel. If there's a name for it. I feel ripped up. Completely shredded. Almost like Harry forgot I wasn't a piece of paper as he tore me piece by piece.

Little did Harry know I only needed a little more time.

"Presley?" As soon as my ears pick up on Louis' accent my body curls into fetal position against the side of the bathtub. I don't want Louis to find me. I don't want anyone to find me. I want the air to somehow evaporate me and turn me into complete nothingness. "Come on babe. I know you're here."

Except I'm not really here.

But Louis doesn't realize this. He opens the bathroom door and steps inside. He sighs and drops to his knees. My body curls away on instinct. Like it doesn't know how to react to Louis petting my hair, while he gives me this awful, sad look.

"Harry called," somehow I'm not surprised. "Move over," Louis orders softly. And when I don't , he tries his best to squeeze in the small space left as he drags my body in between his legs. "Said you might need someone."

"He's not coming back." I don't need an answer. I'm stupid and depressed. Not naive.

"He went to go see Jasmine," Louis confession has me curling further away from reality and my mind trying it's best to protect itself. Of course he went to go see his fiancée. He's getting married. I mean, why wouldn't he go and see her? "He's a shit. A total bastard who doesn't know what he's done."

"This is funny," but it's not and I know that.

"What is?" Louis asks confused, as his hand moves to my head.

"The last time this happened you left too," A giggle bubbles up my throat and it forces me to sit up. "This is almost the same. The only difference is that you're here like you think you can make it better, because you stayed behind. It's fucking hilarious."

"Presley--"

"I'm just waiting for Ben's 'I told you so,' call."

"Presley, Harry's scared--"

"Harry's gone." Harry's not afraid. Not for me. Not for the way I may not survive him leaving again. I hadn't recovered the first time. Now, there's no point. Absolutely none.

"Harry's impulsive," Louis' hand cups my cheek, "he likes to run when he knows he's loosing control."

"Harry's gone," Louis needs to listen to what I'm saying. Harry is gone. He left and he's not coming back here because he's gone to see Jasmine. He left me here all alone. All fucking alone.

"Harry's--"

"Gone!" Why won't Louis listen to me? Why didn't Harry stay? It was only six days. Just six. "He's gone and-- fuck, Louis. He's gone. He left."

"He'll come back," and that's how it's supposed to be? How I'm supposed to be expected to live my life? Constantly waiting for Harry to come back to me? Or wondering when he'll leave me again? "He wants you--"

"And if I don't want him?"

"But you do."

"He-- Louis, I'm tired," this is exhausting and I don't have the capability to keep hoping. Hope is a bitch. It's a hard thing to figure. "I can't wait for him. He's about to get married and the sooner I accept that; the faster I can move on."

"Can you move on without Harry?"

"No," and that makes me so sad and angry. "But I don't think I have another choice."

****
"What are you writing?" I don't want to leave the bathtub. I know I should, but I've lost feeling in my legs and the tub grows comfy once you go numb.

Louis peeks over my shoulder and down my paper. "I'm sending this to Taylor Swift so she can write another song and win a billion more Grammies."

"Shut the fuck up," Louis chortles. "You hate Taylor Swift."

"No. I don't hate her. I find her writing songs about her exes troubling. But I don't hate her. I've just become a member of the Harry support group and I need to be on her good side since she's president of said group."

"You're dumb."

"You can, like, get out of the tub. I don't need your sass."

"You defiantly need my charm," Louis doesn't have charm. He has what I like to call 'bitch syndrome'. "I thought you stopped writing?"

"Your point?"

"Why don't you cry?"

"Because Ben's not here," and Louis is and I'm still not completely comfortable with Louis. I don't know what I am with Louis. I'll admit, Louis' winded expression wounds my heart, but I'll also admit, I don't know how to comfort Louis. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"If it's true. It's true," Louis shrugs. "My back hurts."

"Then go home?"

"I've already left once," the aura is suddenly serious. Almost like I'm about to be delivered grave news that have the power to change everything. "M'not stupid enough to leave and not take you with me. Besides. You still owe me four days."

"So what you're saying is that if I decide to stay in the tub for the rest of the week you're also going to stay here to?"

Louis nods with a straight face, "yeah. The toilets right there anyways."

"Oh my god."

"Why are you in here? Is it like a personal preference or something?"

"Before my mom met my dad she was with Russell."

"Russell is your real dad?" I nod with a hearty cringe. I loath Russell. Absolutely wish the worst for him. "Steve is your step dad? I never knew that." Louis frowns. "Why didn't you ever say something?"

"I never thought it was important." I shrug.

"You never thought, mentioning you had two dads--"

"I don't have two dads," I scoot my body away and slide over by his feet. Louis looks alarmed, quite possibly waiting for a sudden reaction. "I have one dad, Louis. Russell was literally a sperm donor. Steve-- the man you've met-- he's my dad. He gets very offended when you say otherwise and I don't blame him."

"I understand. Continue with your story."

"Well, Russell was a drunk and he liked to beat my mom. So my mom would carry me upstairs because Russell was so off his face, he would never be able to stumble up the stairs. I'd hide in the tub until my mom would come get me. She always came in with a new bruise. One time her eye was so swollen it looked like someone had inflated the skin around it with water. Now the tub is a way that helps me feel secure. I don't know."

"And then she met Russell?"

"Yeah. They got married. A year later he adopted me officially."

"Steve's a smart man."

"He's the most generous man I know." And it's not just because he's my dad. It's because he is. It's just that simple. "He's my dad."

"Yeah," Louis sighs. He bends his body and grabs my hand.

"So now you know. Feel special, only you and Ben know."

Louis grins a big happy grin. He squeezes my fingers with his and waves them in the air, "For arguments sake, let's say I have something to show you, if you get out of the tub?" My interests are peeked and because I have the mentality of a five year old, I need to know, and I need to know now.

"You're bribing me?"

"Of course I am," Louis grins and pushes against my shoulder slightly, "are you interested?"

"Damn you," I hiss, "yes, fine. Okay. Whatever it is, I want it. Give it to me."

"You don't even know what it is." Louis laughs, with his head thrown back. And he makes a very good point. I have no idea what it is. It could be anything, and I need to start thinking before I speak. "You're an impatient little shit."

"Yes." Because I am.

"It's really cool," Louis starts slowly. "But you'll only find out what it is, if you get out of the tub."

"I can't," I whisper.

"Why?"

"Because I lost all feeling in my legs twenty minutes ago."

"Really?"

"Yes," I sigh. I turn and scowl at Louis' grin, "shut up."

"I haven't said anything," Louis smirks, before his eyes snap open and his face falls, "have you been sleeping? You look like pure shit."

"How you have a girlfriend, I don't know."

"My personality," Louis chortles, "let me get up and I'll help you." He pulls back both legs and steps out, trying his best not to fall. He stretches towards the ceiling and grunts as his bones crack and find a soothing release. Once satisfied he stands and offers me a gentle hand. "Can you stand? Or should I pick you up?"

With his help I manage to get on both legs with only one stumble. He wraps his arm over my shoulders and walks us into the bedroom I have discarded for two days.

It feels empty. Even with Louis and I both still here. It doesn't feel good. It doesn't feel the same way it did when Harry was here. It's missing something and I fucking know what it is and I can't have it anymore.

"Why does this feel so sad?"

"Shut up Louis," I sigh. I wish I could find a way to get my brain to stop. For an hour. I want it to completely black out and give me a quiet peace that I can sleep to. "Okay, I'm here. What is this cool thing you have to show me?"

"It's a video," Louis moves toward this brown leather duffle. He unzips it and rummages through it, and pulls out a DVD. "Your mum sent it to me. Priority mail and everything."

"My mom sent you that? What's on it?"

"Something cute," he smiles nervously and walks towards the television set. The screen lights up blue and from where I'm standing I can't see what the words say. "I'm hoping this will remind you of a happier time."

"Louis, this doesn't feel like a good idea. And it makes no sense to watch something like this at this point in time."

"Trust me?"

"Lou--"

"Babe," Louis breathes with a sincerity I've only seen from him once. "Trust me." He pushes.

"Okay."

The screen finally flashes to life and my dad's muffled voice begins to speak. "It's July twenty-seventh, twelve thirty pm, and we're getting ready to say goodbye to our boy!"

"This was almost two years ago," Louis nods and laces our fingers together after noticing how panicked my voice had gotten. "Louis--"

"Watch."

"Susan, no more tears," dad begs as the camera goes a wire for a split second. "Caleb come hug your mother before she dies of dehydration."

"Dad, stop picking on mom," Caleb walks into the cameras view and like always, a smile bigger than the sun was on for display.

"It helps me deal with the pain son," dad jokes as his camera bobbles again. "My boy, future MD. How exciting! I can't wait to get all my vaccinations for free."

"We'll see," Caleb smirks, an arm already wrapped around our emotional mother's shoulder. "Presley?"

"I wasn't there," I remember that day. I was with Harry. Of course I was with Harry. I mean, Harry was my fucking world. Of-fucking-course I was with Harry. "Why are you doing this to me?" I hope Louis feels accused.

"Can you just watch?"

"Her flight doesn't take off for a few hours, bud. She hates that she couldn't make it."

"My sister and her love life," Caleb sighs, with sadness still adorned on his features. "It's great she's found someone she likes--"

"But?"

"To make him her whole life at such a young age," dad nods and claps his shoulder with his hand, "she's only eighteen. What kind of parents are you? Letting her travel with him?"

"This is the first time and she's earned it, bud. Anyway, Presley isn't a normal eighteen year old. She came out of mom's wound with the mentality of a forty year old."

"Alright boys," moms says, "we have to get going if we want to make it on time-- and I don't think I want my baby to go," Caleb laughs and envelops mom.

"My mom is literally made out of nothing but tears."

"Susan's a lovely lady," Louis says, bumping our shoulders together. "Doesn't like me very much right now, but lovely all around." I look at Louis and frown. I know Louis' feeling it more than he is leading on. It's what everyone does. They keep in the magnitude of their feelings and expect others to just know.

"Alright," Caleb sighs and fixes his grip on his backpack. His head takes one last look around before a big smile is drawn on his face.

"Do you have anything you want to say to your sister before you go?"

"I've never seen this?" I turn to Louis. Louis eyebrows raise and a nervous twitch juts his upper lip.

"Watch."

"Yes," Caleb smiles softly. HIs front face the camera and his eyes are glittering, "well kid, it seems our adventures will have to be postponed for a few months, but until I get to see your delinquent face again, just know Caleb loves his Jude so much."

"That's so sweet," mom blubbers as dad shushes her. "Sorry. Sorry."

"I'm always only a phone call away and hopefully you'll be able to come up and see me for a few days. You can even bring Harry. But not if he's going to hog up your attention."

"Look how young he was," my finger is pointing at the screen and my eyes are blurred. Louis hums and squeezes my fingers.

"Remember Presley Jude Summers. I am not leaving you. I am not abandoning you. I'm only saying, see you later. I will be back before you can miss me, even though you already do because I'm that great. I love you Jude. I will always love you and your ridiculously old mind. Have fun and be careful with yourself. Make sure Harry knows I will annihilate him if he hurts you. I love you so much kid. And I've got your back, until the sun dies. But you probably already knew that."

"See, nothing to cry about," dad sniffles as mom and Caleb laugh.

That's when the screen blacks out and I wish my head could do that.

"That was--" my voice cracks before I can finish. Louis turns me with difficulty because the duvet gets in the way. "I loved that." I can't see very well anymore. I have the tears to thank for that.

"Yeah?" Louis' voice wavers with nerves. "I was kind of afraid you'd hate me for it."

"No," I whisper. "This is the best thing I've ever seen. It just makes me really sad."

"Why?"

"Because he's gone and Harry's gone-- oh my God, Lou. Harry's gone. He left again." Louis heaves out a small breath and pulls me towards his chest as his arms wrap around my shoulders.

I wish I could sleep. I wish I could stay asleep for a long, long time.

Notes

Okay. I'm done being emotional. Yass. Okay, I feel better. Thank God, because being emotional is exhausting. /).(\