Letters to the Author -Larry Stylinson

chapter ten

11th Grade

"I hate school dances," Louis glared, crossing his arms. "I don't even know why I go to them. I'd rather stay at home and watch the telly." He squinted a bit as the disco ball sent a neon pink light in his face. 

"Because I'm here," the boy beside him voiced, bumping his shoulder, his voice nervous. 

Louis looked at him, although he had to look up a tiny bit. "Harry, love, you've no idea why I'm here."

Harry blushed a bit, obviously not expecting that response. But he still leaned further into the shorter boy.

Louis and Harry had started talking a year ago, when Harry was a ninth grader who didn't know how to get to the restroom. Louis hadn't an idea why he ended up helping the the boy with curly hair, because everyone in his class were mean to the lower grades. Maybe it was the way he always tripped over himself in those stupid boots he wore, or the way he laughed embarrassingly afterwards.

Louis was the kind of person that wasn't afraid to admire someone who was beautiful. If someone was pleasing to the eye, he was going to look at them. He was going to even stalk them on twitter to find out more about them. But for Harry, he could find out more just by looking him in the eyes.

You see, Harry was a loner. He was quite similar to the very lonely Louis Tomlinson. He was the kind of boy who was always writing stories in his notebook and attending every book club meeting there was. He somehow managed to land a spot in the school newspaper in a made up section called, "Creative Writing From Harry Styles." The thing was, nobody read the school newspaper. But, Louis did. And the first thing he flipped to was the little article that the younger boy wrote, and just a few seconds of peeking into Harry's imaginary world was the most amazing thing he could ever imagine. The words he used to describe things, his colourful style with a hint of mystery, it kept Louis intrigued. 

And so, he bought the newspaper every week, and when he got home he would cut out the little fiction pieces that Harry wrote and put them in his drawer with all of his favourite things. 

That was how it went on for a while. Louis didn't know who Harry Styles was, or what grade he was in. But then he ran into him, when Harry was pacing circles through the empty hallway. Louis was on his way to the copying room to pick up some papers for his teacher. It came to the point where Harry looked extremely close to tears when Louis finally noticed him.

His hair was the colour of chocolate, and no other word could quite describe the shiny tint to his wonderful curls. They were swept across his forehead in a sloppy fringe, barely brushing into his eyes. Louis found himself deep in the green of the gorgeous boy's eyes when he spoke. 

"I need to pee," he said. "My bladder is going to explode over both of us if you don't stop staring at me instead of leading me to the nearest bathroom."

"No," Louis said. "You stop staring at me." He was not going to let Harry think that he was the pretty one. Louis was, Louis always would be the pretty one.

The angry way Harry glared at him, crossing his arms over his chest and furrowing his dark brows, was enough for Louis to fall a little bit for him. His skin was pale and Louis couldn't help but think that he would look absolutely amazing in a commercial that involved snow and red lipstick.

He did end up seeing the boy next to snow though, on the way to this stupid dance that they were at now. When he came to pick the boy up to drive them both, he was dancing in circles in his boots, trying to catch snowflakes with his tongue. Louis found it extremely fascinating and just so beautiful. It took the boy a bit of time to realise that Louis was waiting for him though, dressed in his nice black jeans and light blue sweater.

When he came in, there were little snowflakes nestled in his wild mess of curls, blown from the wind. He was bundled in one of those marshmallow coats that Louis made fun of on television, even when Lottie got offended because she had one. It made his head look too small for his body. You couldn't see his mouth because the polka-dot scarf wrapped around his neck and reaching his nose. Silly, Harry is, Louis decided, dressing for winter when we're only going to be walking through the parking lot to the school.

Harry was letting out excited noises at every house they past, claiming that Christmas lights were his favourite things in the world.

Louis argued that he was Harry's favourite thing in the world.

Harry agreed with him, before blushing a bit and looking at his mitten hands.

And Louis couldn't help but fall in love with him just a little bit more.

It didn't help that every single thing he wrote got better and better as he got more practice. Louis was absolutely obsessed with his writing, and for some reason he hadn't told Harry that. It seemed as if it was his secret. Even now, at the dance, where he was telling Harry all of his memories associated with school dances, he couldn't seem to bring it up. He thought that maybe he should drop subtle hints that involved the newspaper, but he didn't want to be to obvious. Louis Tomlinson was never the submissive type, the type that admitted to being absolutely infatuated with someone. So, Harry knowing that Louis read his stuff was going to put him below the boy, and that just wouldn't do.

"I want punch," Louis murmured, leaning forward off of the wall he was just against. Harry automatically got up as well, and Louis put a gentle arm around his waist. "Let's go, Harry."

"Of course, Prince. Anything for you, Your Highness" Harry teased, squeezing Louis' side with his long fingers.

Louis just laughed, before brushing him away. "Peasant. Don't touch me." But he was smiling, and Harry knew he wasn't being serious, so he just grabbed Louis' hand on their way to getting punch. Louis' cheeks flushed and his stomach fluttered at the gesture, just like always. He didn't know what he and the other boy were, and he was so afraid to ask. He wanted to be Harry's boyfriend. He loved being with him, he loved watching movies with him at home and reading bedtime stories with him to put his sisters to bed. And he just fell in love with the boy, with the way he smiled and flashed his little dimple, with the kindness deep inside his heart, even if he was a bit odd on the outside. But Louis loved that part of him just the same.

And Louis and Harry finally did kiss, after slow dancing to "Waiting For The World to Change," by John Mayer. And it was magical, it really was.

The thing was, he lost his memory on the way home. He got in a car accident. And the doctor's told Louis that it was short term, that unless he really wanted one year of memory back he was fine.

Mum seemed more devastated then him. Louis was more concerned with the gash in his head from the car accident then he was with his memory loss. He knew it was an awful thing, but he couldn't seem to play up anything that he could've missed his junior year of high school. He must not have had friends, because nobody came to visit him in the hospital, nobody sent him a note saying, Remember me?

He was just alone, and he was used to it, because from what he could remember, that's how he always was.

And he was fine, until he found a book in the library of uni two years later titled, "Amnesia." Louis was immediately interested in it as he had experienced amnesia himself. It was written by a boy named Harry Styles. 

And for some reason, that name caused a weird fluttery feeling in his heart.

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