It was just like every other teenage party in the century: booze, music, making out and lots of grinding. What could go out of the ordinary in a celebration for the lonely to forget Valentine's Day?
Louis and Niall walked up to the steps at the house with their heated discussion.
"Look, it's all gonna be alright, mate. I've told you. There will only be some people you don't know. No need to look so nervous." The blond one answered already exhausted of Louis' excuses not to go to the party.
"I have a paper tomorrow, I can't get hammered and I have to sleep early. Can we go in an hour? Please?" He asked rubbing his sweaty hands on his pants.
"I'll see what I can do for you." And Niall opened the door of the house.
Notes blasted out of the speakers into the quiet neighbourhood with the sudden intermission. The teenagers sat on sofas and leaning against counters shouted as soon as they saw the life of the party walk in with more vodka and weed.
It was going to be a long night for Louis.
He walked past a couple practically naked against a pillar, then through some people sniffing coke... Same senior life as always.
Grabbing a bottle of beer, he sat on the sofa next to a group of people playing spin the bottle, trying to block out the noises to stop the throbbing in his head.
Sure, Niall was his best friend. One hell of a convincing, guilt-tripping best friend that always ended up finding new ways of bringing him to parties, parties and more parties. The two were complete opposites, and still were inseparable. Their childhood friendship had lasted middle school dramas and the separations into groups when Louis had been labelled somewhat of a 'nerd' and Niall the jokester and popular guy.
Although nobody could really tell how this pair worked, they had a bond which would never be destroyed.
Still, Louis sat there, cursing Niall in his head. Dumb, idiot, son of a bitch, next time I won't come with him, oh no I won't, I never have fun at these parties, why do I always come...
That's when he felt a slight tapping in his shoulders and looked back. What he saw only made him want to kill his friend even more and promise himself that he would never, ever, EVER believe Niall again.
He remembered he asked Niall maybe, what? 10 times? If the famous Harry Styles would be at the party and his friend and sworn that "No, don't worry, we've gone through this. You won't have to see his face ever again."
There was the man, with an unbuttoned watermelon printed shirt, mom jeans and an old brown thick belt which hit Louis with a wave of nostalgia (and, although he would not admit, some of the best memories he could remember).
"Hey! Won't say hi to me?" With a cocky grin Harry tilted his head, aware of his effect over the other boy.
Louis didn't think twice. He got up, chugged the rest of the beer while looking to Harry and before leaving whispered in his ear:
"Don't ever talk to me again. Never."
With a raging fire running through his body, he shoved his way into the kitchen to drown in tequila.
*
It was easy to find Zayn; He was dressed in his greaser style – all black, all leather – a glaring spotlight which was seen as a lifesaver for a drunken desperate Louis.
"Oh shit, man. You don't look so good." Zayn said as Louis tumbled onto him.
"Why the fuck is Harry here? What is he doing here, Zayn?"
"Nobody knew he was coming, I swear. He just showed up at Liam's today and – Look, I don't want to defend him and all, but he's going through a lot of stuff and... It's gonna be alright Louis you don't have to talk to him." Zayn patted the teen's head as he laid on the floor, staring into the ceiling.
"I don't care about him. I don't care about his life. We've been through this. I just– I'm over him. I don't– I can't– I don't care about him." He tried to sooth himself as he caresses his arms in a protective manner, creating a shield from the rest of the world.
"Buddy, it's gonna be alright. I'll talk to him, I'll try to discover something, alright? It's also a shock to us. He greeted me as if nothing had ever happened. As if–" And Zayn stopped himself before the memories to the trauma the five boys had gone thorough could be unleashed again. No, none of them ever spoke about it. If they did, God know what could be revealed.
"No, you don't need to. I'm okay." Louis got up, almost falling over. "I just need more shots. More vodka."
Zayn, being the responsible sober he was, would normally talk Louis out of his decision. He would normally suggest that all of them could talk it out. But, for once, he believed that getting hammered was the only way to calm his friend's mind down.
*
"Harry? What the fuck?" Niall stared at his old friend in a room he had just been pulled into.
"Hi! It's been a long while." Harry grinned, acting as if this situation was entirely normal.
"No, you don't get to "hi" me. Please tell me you haven't talked to Louis."
"Of course he was the first one I talked to!"
"Alright, this is it." Niall said, slamming the door behind him and locking it. "You don't have the right to do this to my best friend. There are things he never told me, and he tells me everything. You're gonna talk about what you're doing here, what the fuck happened two years ago and... Fuck, everything. Starting now." Niall was not the type to get angry, but Louis was his soft spot.
Harry's cool facade broke down for a second as tears built up in his melancholic expression.
"It's... It's more complicated than... Let's just restart, please."
"You can't ask this from us, Harry. You can't ask this from Louis. You have to talk about it."
"Where do I start?"
"From the beginning."
