Rain | Harry Styles

0.8

Louis cleared his throat, shaking his leg awkwardly, "So I wanted to talk."

"Mhm," I mumbled in response, picking at a hangnail on my thumb, as he continued.

'I'm sorry, Ana. Really, I am," he said sadly, and I sat back in my chair as the waitress laid our coffees in front of us.

"Louis, I really thought you were better than that. I'm not blaming this all on you, but frankly - I don't know what to tell you. Thank you for apologising - seriously. It just sucks that you were such a good friend of mine, yet you were so willing to cut me off when Sadie and Jake told you to. But I haven't heard from you in weeks, not since Sadie made herself pretty clear," I rambled, stopping only to take a sip of my coffee, "so why now?"

Louis had been ignoring me for weeks. When I began talking to Harry, he'd reassured me that Sadie's anger would pass - instead it only intensified, and led to a heated confrontation about Harry's late best friend. The thought of what they'd done had only further fuelled my anger on Harry's behalf.

"What?"

"Why talk to me now?" I repeated, "You were pretty willing to ignore me before."

"I-I don't know, Ana. I miss having you around," he said quietly, and I could tell he meant it. Louis was never quiet; nervous - he was always so bold and forward.

I sighed, nodding my head, "I miss you too, Louis."

"Great," his face lit up for a moment, "So you'll hang out with us from now on?"

I bit my lip, "Are you forgetting that Sadie and Jake hate me? And I'm not exactly their biggest fan, either."

"I know, but that'll work out. And it's better than being on your own, isn't it?"

I frowned, setting my mug down, "On my own? I haven't been alone. I have Harry," I stated.

It was now Louis' turn to frown, "Harry Styles, hm?"

"Why do you ask?"

"You're choosing Harry Styles over us?" he glared across the table at me now, and I scoffed.

"That's not what I said, Louis."

"You like him now?"

"What does it matter?"

"So you do," he sat back in his chair, huffing.

"What right do you have to interrogate me? And so what if I do like him?" I snapped defensively, folding my arms as I attempted to lower my voice.

"Because I fucking like you, Ana. God, I like you so much," he growled, and I shook my head.

"Don't, Louis. Don't tell me that. You know about the huge crush I used to have on you."

"Yeah, I do. And I know that it wouldn't have just gone away," he said softly, reaching for my hand across the table. I let him grip it for a few seconds - two months ago I would've intertwined our fingers and let him kiss me; told him I liked him, too.

I drew my hand back, "Don't," I repeated, "Why are you doing this?"

"I don't want to see you with that Styles guy, Ana," he huffed, his frustration growing once more.

"Why not? What has he ever done to you? You're the one who-"

"You don't fucking know what he's done," he raised his voice, slamming his hand down onto the table, causing me to jump back, "He's crazy, that kid. You don't know who he was before."

"So tell me." I tried to sound confident, though I couldn't hide the confusion my tone held.

"After his mate killed himself, he was high as a kite," he snarled, "always fucking on some shit. Came to school drunk most of the time - all you had to do was look at him funny before he beat your fucking ass. He fucked every girl he saw, got caught with somebody in the janitor's closet more times than you can count. Harry Styles is the definition of a failure. A fucking sick mess," he concluded, and I furrowed my eyebrows.