Unbelievers

Chapter 4.4

It's morning, but it might as well be night. It's dark outside, most houses are unlit, and the ground is somewhat frozen. It has yet to actually snow this winter, although it never really does. When Louis was a kid, all he ever wished for on Christmas and his birthday was real, proper snow. He got it one year too, of course that was also the week his grandmother passed away, so it kind of put a damper on the whole snow thing. He wonders if there will be any this year.

It's early Tuesday morning, and Louis is out on his morning run. He hasn't been doing it for a while since his sleeping schedule hasn't been stellar lately and he's too tired to get up early enough in the morning. It's quite windy, and his old windbreaker doesn't help much. He's jogging the track through the park, planning on taking the circuit around the blocks on his way back instead of crossing the dewy grass behind the oak trees like he usually does.

He's listening to music, but the pumping bass has been pushed to the back of his head by wandering thoughts. Usually running keeps him in check, helps him think about everything else than stuff, but today it's not working.

Christmas is coming up soon. Louis has his eye on a few gifts for his family, now that he has a little more money to spend. That's probably the only good thing about Christmas this year. The celebration won't be the same. It was the first thing he thought about when he learned about the divorce. What is going to happen at Christmas? His birthday? He knows Mum and Mark have made up plans for this year, but there's this thing wrenching in his gut. It's not fine.

He jogs onto the sidewalk, glancing at the clock on his wrist. He's been out a bit too long he realizes – the way through the blocks taking a bit longer than the normal circuit – and he figures he'll take a shortcut, turning right and onto a familiar street. He's a little more than a mile from his house, but if he pushes he could probably make it back in less than five minutes.

He picks up his pace and a hundred yards onto the street he realizes that, yep, this is definitely Harry's street, and he'll pass his house in a minute or so. He mentally sighs, forcing himself to keep running. He shuts out his thoughts, focusing on the music in his headphones. He can't help but notice Harry's car in the driveway though, or that the lamp in his room is lit. He's probably just waking up, getting himself ready for school...

Louis shakes his head. Keep running, Tommo.

By the time he makes it home he's sweating, forehead hot beneath his fringe. It hasn't gotten any lighter outside than when he left, although it is December, and it feels like it's getting darker and darker each morning.

He takes a two-minute breather and unties his beaten jogging shoes before he goes inside. He wipes his brow on his sleeve, throwing his shoes to the side just inside by the door, closing it behind him. He pulls off his jacket, about to run up the stairs to take a shower, when he hears his mother's voice in the kitchen. She didn't have a shift last night so it shouldn't be weird, but Lottie isn't up yet and the tone of her voice rains over him like a bucket of ice water.

"Mark," she sighs. "Please."

Louis holds his breath where he stands by the stairs, gripping the hand railing tightly.

"Will she talk to me at least? ... Ask her again. It's... It's been four weeks, Mark." Her voice is low, ending in a whisper. Louis' chest is heaving again, and he shuts his eyes, inhaling through his nose.

"Just... Okay ... Tell her I love her?"

Louis can't stand it.

"I miss her."

He darts up the stairs and slams the door to his room, jumping into the shower without turning on the heat.

He gets ready quicker than normal, rushing through his usual morning rituals, not bothering to get his hair done. He just wants to get out of the house. He throws on a pair is skinny, black jeans, a soft grey/black jumper with a few white splatters on, and leaving his room and goes to knock obnoxiously on Lottie's door. She opens it, eyebrows arched.

Thankfully, she is finished so he grabs her arm, rushing them down the stairs. She complains about his hurry, groaning that she hasn't even brushed her teeth yet. While she does that, Louis sneaks into the hall, internally begging his mother won't hear him. He slips his shoes on and grabs the car keys from the little blue bowl, walking quickly towards the front door.

"Oh, honey! You're leaving already?"

Fuck. He turns around, smiling weakly.

"Don't you want any breakfast?"

"No, I'm good. I'll just grab something from the cafeteria. Lunch's third period already, so," he assures her quickly, praying she won't bring it up.

"Okay." She gives him a small smile, reaching out to stroke his cheek. She looks hesitant then and Louis knows it's coming. "I spoke to Mark on the phone this morning. He wondered –"

Louis steps back, her hand falling towards the floor. "It's not the same, Mum. It's not the same." He backs away, swinging his bag over his shoulder. "Lottie! We're leaving!"

"Honey!" Jay says, lips tilting down. "You and Fizzy –"

He gives her a hard stare, silencing her. "It's not the same," he forces out, words firm. In fact, there's a huge, flaming difference that makes him so nauseas at the bare thought of it that he feels like he's going to be sick. He turns on his heel just as Lottie comes out of the bathroom.

He rushes out the door and to the car. He gets in, putting the key into the ignition, shutting his eyes for just a second. When Lottie finally opens the passenger door, she gets in silently, placing her bag in her lap.

"Don't say anything," Louis whispers.

"I won't."

They drive to school in complete silence. After Louis' dropped his sister off he makes a U-turn, driving into the city instead of toward the direction of the school. He opens his phone, texting Harry.

Congratulations sweetcheeks. You get practice all to yourself today

He arrives at the fro-yo shop just past eight. Greg is there, just having opened up the place it seems.

"Hey, man," he greets, and Louis nods while walking in behind the counter. "What are you doing here?"

"Skipping. Please, let me do something. I'm –"

"Bad day? Already?"

"Yeah," he nods, hoping Greg won't ask. Thankfully, he doesn't.

"Well, you can start by refilling the soft ice cream machine. It ran out last night, didn't it?"

Right. It did. "Okay," he breathes. "Thanks, Greg."

The older man squeezes his arm, smiling warmly. "No worries, love. Anything for you." He winks, and Louis rolls his eyes, cracking a smile despite his efforts.

"Told you," Greg singsongs. "Can't resist the GJ charm!"