Unbelievers

Chapter 3.7

The entire week after that is strange. Harry still doesn't speak a word in Louis' direction, and Louis doesn't try to approach him either. There's this weird tension whenever they're close though, and Louis doesn't even know where to begin to try to sort this out in his head. He doesn't know what he did to trigger such an outburst from Harry on the football pitch and neither can he come up with a rational explanation. He has long before they started hooking up thought Harry was an unreasonable twat, but apparently he needs anger management classes as well.

Louis stays out of his lane for the remainder of the week.

It's Sunday when Louis is in the kitchen, drinking tea with Lottie. For the record, he hasn't had sex with Harry for more than a week and a half. It must be the longest they've gone so far and as it looks right now, it's not going to happen again. He never really imagined how their "thing" would come to an end, but at least this way it wasn't because they got caught. He's never really imagined getting caught either. He's not too sure what would happen... he muses silently, taking a sip from his cup.

Lottie's phone buzzes on the table, and he's brought out of his ponderings. Lottie eyes her phone for a second before she answers the call, the tiniest of frowns set on her face.

"Hi, Dad," she says and Louis right away awkwardly clears his throat and gets up from the table. He does actually have some homework for English class he has to finish, and he leaves to fetch his books in his room, hoping Lottie's call will have ended by the time he gets back. Upstairs he stalls, pretending to look in drawers he knows his books aren't going to be in, and takes two extra moments to fix his fringe in the mirror.

Unluckily, the phone call hasn't ended once he finally comes back into the kitchen, and he internally groans, sitting down to finish his cup of tea.

Lottie looks up at him, and then hesitantly says, "I'm not sure if he's home, Dad. I can check... Hold on." She covers the phone with her hand, holding it down. "He wants to talk, Lou. He says you've been ignoring his calls."

Louis doesn't look at her, keeps his eyes on his English assignment on the table. "Tell him I'm out on a run." He was going to go for one later anyway. Mark can surely wait.

Lottie purses her lips, but nonetheless does as told. "I'm sorry, Dad. He's probably out on a run or at the football pitch, or something. I'll tell him to call you back, okay? ... Yes, I'll pass on the message ... Love you, too ... Bye."

She puts the phone down and Louis keeps his eyes on the words in front of him. He's supposed to be writing an encapsulation of this text his teacher gave him –

"Why do you ignore Dad's calls, Louis?" Lottie asks him bluntly. Even if she covers for him, he knows she hates it.

"He's not my dad," he whispers.

"You're ridiculous," she says harshly. Louis knows she's angry. He doesn't look up. "Don't you realize that the two of you are doing the exact same thing? If you and her would–"

He clenches his teeth together. "It's not the same, Charlotte."

"Don't Charlotte me," she snaps. She stands from her seat, shaking her head in frustration. "I'm going to Alice's house. You can eat dinner by yourself tonight," she mutters, and leaves the room.

Louis can hear her putting on her jacket and shoes while leaning on his arms on the table. He closes his eyes and when the door slams he doesn't even flinch, only sighs. He lies there for what feels like an hour, not returning to his homework. He's too tired, emotionally. His head feels like mess, and he'd really love it somebody would come and help him tidy up some time.

That's looking at you, God. He hasn't exactly been present in his life so far, he thinks, if only a bit passively aggressively. If he were present in a supportive manner, Louis' life surely wouldn't be this. He probably doesn't have the right to ask anything from God, though. He's never really believed in him anyway.