Chapter Three
songs to listen to for this chapter!
"Nicotine" by Panic! at the Disco
"Falling" by The Civil Wars
"Flume (Live version)" by Bon Iver
enjoy :)
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Harry stood to his feet and cheered as loud as he could. Louis's mum, who could almost never make it to the games anymore, was next to him, clapping and screaming. Louis's team was winning 5-3. Harry had never seen such a good game.
the past few years had been quite near perfect. Harry was 16 now, and he hadn't been bullied at school in ages. Louis was always at his side to defend him. Louis's mum (even though she had broken up with yet another husband) had had a little girl, Olivia, who had just turned two and was learning how to talk. Harry spent most of his time at the Tomlinson's house, doing coursework, playing football with Louis, or babysitting Olivia. every single night the boys laid out on the Rooftop, which had lately been littered with empty bottles, crumpled up paper, and even the ghosts of a few cigarettes. it was their shared space, their safe paradise, their true home.
the two of them spent every waking moment together, and they had learned everything they could possibly know about each other. Harry knew what Louis's favorite shirt was (the sky blue tee with the white hem that was a bit too big on his tiny frame, but it retained the heavenly scent of their coconut laundry detergent, so he wore it anyway), and Louis knew where Harry kept his secret journal (under the upper left corner of his mattress, but he could tell you with complete honesty that he'd never read it). Harry knew Louis's coffee order inside and out (a grande no whip java chip latte with skim milk--what a mouthful) and Louis knew that Harry was one of the worst football players he had ever seen (well, everyone knew that, but still), even though he came to every practice and played with Louis in the field most nights. the two were inseparable, and they swore nothing could tear them apart.
but tonight at the game, something was different.
the captain of Louis's team scored the winning goal, and the crowd went wild as the game ended. Harry watched his best friend join his teammates in a group victory huddle, and Mrs. Tomlinson touched Harry's shoulder gently, yelling over everyone else, "I'll meet you out in the car." Harry nodded and Louis's mum hitched Olivia higher on her hip and walked down the steps of the bleachers and away from the field.
as people streamed off the grass and out of the school stadium, Harry sat alone at the edge of the cold metal bleacher and wondered when he would be allowed to go see Louis and congratulate him. he watched as the team slapped each other on the backs and bro-hugged each other. he saw Louis raise his head and scan the crowds, trying to find Harry, who was now standing and waving his arms. he was about to open his mouth and yell
I'm over here! Louis, here!
but he stopped himself as he watched another member of the team--taller than Louis (maybe as tall as Harry, who had growth-spurted to 5'10" this past summer)--jogged up to Louis, chatted with him for a bit, probably discussing the best kicks and goals of the game, slowly stepping closer to Louis, and then...
oh.
Harry knew (and had known since grade 5) that Louis was gay. he had spent long nights on the Rooftop asking Louis about it, wondering what it was like to like men, to feel the roughness of a boy's lips moving softly against his own. but to see it happening was a different thing.
the boy's hands rested gently on Louis's cheeks, pulling him closer and inviting him in. Harry's eyes widened and he slumped back down in his seat, looking down at his feet in shock, eyebrows raised and fingers tightly clenched around the edge of the bench. before he knew it, frozen tears were landing on his knees, and Harry squeezed his eyes shut and ran his sleeve across his face. why am I crying? what is wrong with me?
you're an idiot, that's what.
"no I'm not!" he said a bit too loudly, startling himself. his words faded into the silence of the now-empty stadium. frowning, Harry raised his head, opening his eyes and brushing his wind-toussled hair to the side. frustrated with himself for being--jealous? (why am I jealous?!) Harry stood to his feet, grabbing on to the railing and running as fast as he could out of the stadium without another look at the field.
gotta get out gotta get out
he ran the two and a half miles home, tripping on the sidewalk, tears clouding his vision and hair falling in his face.
by the time Harry reached the house, Louis was still standing in the middle of the field, but he was standing alone.
