falling for you [prequel] ➳ l.s.

thirteen - i get sad too (and when i'm down i need somebody to talk to)

All of his clothes were packed. His flight didn't leave for another three days, but Louis felt an inexplicable need to start packing on the earlier side. Maybe the whole situation didn't even feel real until he had actually packed up his life into a single duffel bag. He stood in the center of his room, turning slowly in a circle as he pondered anything important he could have forgotten.

The only thing he could think of was Harry.

His bedroom walls were covered in photographs, a few of him and Niall playing football or laughing enthusiastically at a party. But all of the rest featured Harry, whether that meant Louis and Harry laughing, or Louis and Harry kissing. A couple of embarrassing ones courtesy of Niall, which showed Louis staring fondly at Harry, the happy crinkles by his eyes revealing every ounce of love that weighed down on his heart when he looked at his boyfriend.

Or just Harry, all dimples with twinkling green eyes while he tried to stop Louis from snapping his picture. Or just Harry, nose scrunched seriously with intent focus, completely unaware that Louis wanted to capture the moment forever in a photograph.

Louis squeezed his eyes shut, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat. He felt like he was being forced to break his own heart, little by little. Piece by piece.

Then he snapped out of his trance, and he went to work. He yanked every single picture off of the wall, tossing them carelessly on the floor until the dark blue paint of his walls finally showed again. When he finally finished, he stood in the center of the room once again, careful not to step on any of the pictures. He got down on his knees and started gathering the pictures into neat stacks, sorting them based on how they made him feel -- except all he could feel was miserable.

His mum knocked lightly on the door, pushing it open before Louis even had the chance to tell her to come in. "Hi, honey. How's the packing coming? Need any help finishing up?"

Louis shook his head, gesturing toward the already-zipped bag in the corner of the room. He thumbed absentmindedly over the corner of the photo in his hand, biting his lip thoughtfully.

Taking a few steps into the room, his mum shot him a knowing look. She gestured down at the stacks of pictures that surrounded him, the walls of his bedroom now abnormally empty. "Are you planning to pack up all of your pictures to take with you?"

"I don't know. I'm just not sure if I can leave them behind," he admitted. He glanced back down at the photo, Harry's bright, smiling face staring back at him. Haunting him. He didn't need a photograph -- that face went with him everywhere, engraved in his head and in his heart alike.

"You can't leave the pictures behind?" his mum asked, knowing there was more to uncover.

Tears welled up in Louis's eyes, and he swiped angrily at them before his mum could see. He wasn't in the mood for a comforting lecture. He couldn't help feeling stupid for being sad, since he was the one making this decision. He didn't have a right to be heartbroken.

"Louis. I know it's hard to leave your friends behind," his mum said. "But you can't pass up this opportunity. All you've ever wanted is to sing and to make music, and now you can do both. "

"I love him, mum," Louis whispered, willing his voice not to shake. "I love him so much."

"I know you do, honey," his mum replied, squeezing Louis's shoulder comfortingly. "But you have to do this for yourself. If you just talked to him about it, Harry would want you to do this."

His mum moved back toward the door, observant enough to notice that Louis wasn't in the mood to talk about it. He needed to order his thoughts for himself. She lingered in the doorway, adding, "Your whole life is about to change. Don't hold on to the past just because you're afraid."

And with that, she left, just before Louis could mention that maybe his whole life changing was the very thing he was most afraid of.

He stood from the floor, holding one stack of pictures loosely in his hand. On a complete mental whim, he went to work repinning the photographs to the walls, putting everything back in its original place. When he finished, his bedroom looked the same as it always had, completely covered with traces of Harry. Louis took a moment to read the hundreds of sticky notes that he and Harry had passed in class, stuck the walls among the photographs. He skimmed his hand over the love letters he had tossed carelessly on the desk after rereading a few nights before.

Maybe he had to leave Harry behind. But Harry was his first love, and the shy, curly-haired boy that caught his eye on the first day of school would always be with him, with or without photos.

Louis crawled into bed, pulling the covers up to his chin and wishing his boyfriend was there to hold him. He grabbed his phone from the nightstand, his stomach flipping when he saw a text from Harry: Goodnight. I love you. He typed his response: I love you more than you'll ever know.

He gradually drifted to sleep, trying his best to ignore the permanent pit of guilt that now lived in his stomach. Maybe, with his favorite pictures of Harry surrounding him just like always, he could let himself pretend that everything could just stay the same.