Lost In The Noise

Chapter 1

Harry fucking Styles. Otherwise known as the biggest goddamn prick Louis' ever met.

It's not even like Louis knew Harry was part of the new friend group Liam and Zayn had met while he was away. If he fucking knew, he would have been sure to tell them that Harry's an untrustworthy, selfish dick.

But now that he's currently walking towards Harry—and apparently 'a little Irish man named Niall,' according to Zayn—it's a bit late to voice his concern. And he's not just going to stop in his tracks, because that would be embarrassing and that's not what he wants.

He can't have that—especially since it's been three years and probably (definitely, Louis knows)—a couple of months since he's even seen Harry.

God, his hair got long.

Louis remembers back when Harry's hair was sat right on top of his head, curls flying everywhere, the only way to tame them being a beanie.

They're approaching one of the café tables slowly, thankfully Liam and Zayn understanding the slowed pace of Louis. Usually, that's something he needs while meeting new people anyways, so he doubts they're even suspecting anything.

The only thing going through his mind is, 'let me drop dead, right now. Seriously, right now—I wouldn't mind, really.'

He doesn't want to hate Harry...it just comes naturally. The rage and anger is just there whenever he sees his fucking face. Three years, three fucking years since he's felt this boiling, uncontrollable resentment and...anxiety?

Since when the fuck did he ever have this nervousness about Harry clawing from inside his chest, begging to climb out? He knew he was bitter, but Jesus, he never even thought he'd see Harry again, let alone be on his way to lunch with him.

He can see the exact moment Harry notices too. The widened, green eyes and parted lips say it all.

Louis keeps his eyes right on the boy as he's walking, taking in his fluffy, shoulder-length curls as well as that huge ass smile that never failed to make him happy, but now, now he feels the hurt tingling up his body and into the back of his throat.

What's meant to be a comforting tap on the shoulder from Liam, jolts Louis out of his thoughts as they're about seven seconds from his impending doom.

This cannot be happening.

Keeping his eyes locked on the stained, white floor, Louis takes a deep breath before tipping his head up, face set as neutral as he can.

Maybe, just maybe, Harry forgot who his best mate of ten years used to be. Who knows? Anything is possible.

Except Louis knows that Harry knows because when their eyes meet, Harry's face falls to a scowl faster than a freight train at max speed. Louis wishes a freight train would smack into him right about now. Maybe then, he wouldn't ever have to see Harry again.

" Louis Tomlinson , to what do I owe this pleasure?"

Harry was always a god damn pristine, little asshole. Perfect grades, impeccable home life, intact relationships.

It pisses Louis off.

Louis was always, always there supporting Harry, even in his 'I'm better than everyone phase.' Louis' not sure if that ever even ended. He wasn't around to see.

And the thing that disgusts Louis most about himself, is that he absolutely loved it when Harry would do that type of shit. In fact, he thrived any time Harry would do any of his fancy talking from the extra elite education shit his parents enrolled him in or when he would dress in his worth-thousands-of-pounds suits for a charity benefit.