Bound by Pages | larry

thirty-one

Harry sat on a box in his living room, anxiously checking his phone. It was currently 7:06. He knew he shouldn't be nervous, it wasn't odd for someone to be six minutes late for something.

No. Replied the voice in his head. It might not be odd for someone to be six minutes late, but it was odd for Louis to be six minutes late.

Harry pulled out his phone, calling Louis' number. It rang, but the other boy didn't pick up, sending Harry to voicemail. He frowned, looking out his window to the darkening evening sky. It was a nice sunset, but Louis was nowhere in sight.

He checked the clock again. 7:10 this time. Had it only been four minutes? To Harry, it felt like twenty.

At 7:15, Harry started to get irrationally worried.

At 7:20, he was halfway to Louis house.

The cool breeze swept through his hair and continued along the empty street, but Harry was paying no attention to which way the wind was blowing. His mind was focused on one thing. Well, two things, but one boy. Where was Louis and was he okay?

He wondered if he was crazy trying to find Louis, but he figured that the boy would have at least sent him a text or some kind of indication that he was going to be late.

As Harry walked farther, he began to question if this was a logical idea, or if he was being paranoid. He honestly couldn't tell, and his judgement was completely absent from the situation.

He sighed loudly, finally letting his feet slow down. This was ridiculous. He knew that Louis was perfectly safe somewhere. Maybe he fell asleep or got caught up with other work. Maybe he was helping someone out and didn't have the time. Harry knew there was no reason that he should be worried about Louis, but there was still something making his chest tight.

Harry was about to turn around when his feet stumbled over something on the ground. He squinted, not seeing clearly in the dim evening light. It looked like a little book, held together by a leather string. Harry picked it up and gasped. He would recognize this journal anywhere. It was the one Louis always carried with him. There was no way the younger boy would go anywhere without it.

Fear settled in Harry's chest. He must have dropped it accidentally, right? But Harry knew how low the chances of that was.

It's funny how things work like that, isn't it? When nothing's wrong, you try to convince yourself that something is. Then when something is actually wrong, you keep telling yourself that everything's okay.

As much as Harry didn't want to believe it, he was holding the proof that something was wrong. Proof in the form of a little brown book in his hand.

The point where the book laid on the ground was extremely close to Louis' house. If Harry were to guess, it would be about twenty metres to the entrance. Harry had never actually been inside of the bungalow, but he had walked Louis home enough times to know where it was located.

Since Louis lived in a small crescent, there was no reason to walk on this street other than to go home, or to stop by his home. Going anywhere else would be much faster by taking the bigger streets.

Harry bit his lip. He didn't want to intrude on Louis' family, but at the same time, he needed an answer. He wouldn't be able to sleep if he just turned back now and went home.

Before he could regret it, Harry walked up to the wooden door and knocked loudly.

"We have a doorbell." A petite figure smiled as the door swung open. She pointed to a button on the side of the door. "Right here."

Harry blushed. The woman looked nothing like Louis. Her long, dark hair was swooped over her shoulder, showing it's curls. Her nose was softer, and her lips full. Harry was about to apologize and walk home, but then he saw her eyes. He could recognize those eyes anywhere. The comforting blueness that felt like home.