Dinner began at eight that night. They took a taxi to the restaurant, where they got a fancy booth. His father ordered champagne and they toasted to the new year. Harry's dad wore a semi-fancy suit, and his mother a dark dress and her bracelet. Harry had pulled a dress shirt on with black trousers, and a bowtie around his neck. His dad had fixed it for him, uncharacteristically helpful, but rather than happy it made Harry feel wary. His parents weren't as upbeat as when Gemma had been home, but the mood seemed to linger somewhat.
They were trying, and Harry didn't know if it made him happy or more uncomfortable.
"So, you've got a big party tonight?"
"Yeah," nodded Harry. There'd been a Facebook event circling online, but it wasn't until Liam had texted him to ask whether he was interested that he'd actually decided to go. He was kind of looking forward to it, but he also wasn't sure what mood he'd be in later that night after dinner with his parents.
"Who is going then?" his mother asked.
"Zayn, and some people from class."
"He's a good boy. You've been friends for so long."
"Yup."
He wondered what Louis was doing tonight. Was he with his sisters? With his blond friend, Niall? Was he home, or was he out drinking with friends?
Harry had woken up on Christmas Eve, wanting to text Louis, knowing it was his birthday. It was fucked up, but it was the first thing he'd thought of. And then he'd thought about the kiss. He'd ruminated in detail over Louis' quiet disposition, his firm hands holding onto Harry's own arms, the way his tongue felt in his own mouth... And he hadn't done it. Texting Louis just to wish him a happy birthday was a hundred times more daunting than asking him to come over and fuck, and Harry hadn't even mustered the courage to do that since the kiss.
Nevertheless, after making his decision about Louis, he wanted to see him. He needed to. He had to know what the future was going to be like. Would he have to break it off with him? Zayn's words echoed, and Harry wondered again and again if Louis really was just using him for sex. He didn't want to be used. However, hadn't he also been using Louis? He guessed not. Not if he... had some sort of vague, awkward feelings for him deep down. But that was fucking if.
It was easier to give Louis the choice.
"So, how is Jasmine?" asked Harry's father during the starter, and Harry's shoulders stiffened.
"What?" he whispered.
"You used to be so close," he said, looking at him, brows raised. Shock clutched Harry's body, and he stared back at his father silently, whose face turned into a frown. "What? I know some of your friends. Is she also going to the party?"
Harry swallowed. "We are not close anymore."
"Oh, why not?" sighed his mum. Her hand stroked his arm. "What happened?"
"Nothing really, Mum. We just don't hang out."
"I thought you were dating."
"Dad. No." Harry shook his head firmly. He didn't want to talk about this. He pushed the finished plate away and took a deep sip from his champagne.
"Any other girls you like then?"
He shook his head again, curls scraping his jaw. "No."
His clothes felt uncomfortable. He wanted to loosen the bowtie, but his father had knitted it so firmly that he didn't know how to remove it.
His father laughed. "Are you sure? You look a little flustered, son."
Oh, God. His heart beat harder again.
I'm gay.
I'm gay.
"I'm -"
"Was everything okay?" It was the waiter. "Can I take your plates?"
"Oh, it was so lovely!" chirped Harry's mum. The food had been good, but Harry couldn't remember what they'd just eaten anymore. He wanted to leave. For once, his parents wanted to talk about him, and yet he didn't have anything of satisfaction to offer up.
"Could I have a beer, please?" he asked the waiter.
"Of course, sir."
The rest of the night was the same. His father ordered the lobster, while his mother opted for the tuna steak. Harry squeezed her arm and assured her the lobster was fine if she wanted it, but she made it clear that she wasn't going to have it. He knew it was because of what he'd said that morning, but it made him feel guilty, as though he had ruined their special New Year's Eve dinner. Harry ordered ratatouille.
By the time it was half-past ten, they had finished dessert and another bottle of champagne. His mother's cheeks were flushed, and his father looked pleased. The rest of the dinner had sailed past without further strain, but Harry was ready to go. Looking at his parents trying so hard to make the evening perfect was another kind of draining. He wanted to get to the party, and find Zayn. Or Louis. His parents had a bar reservation, and his mother had already ordered a taxi that would bring Harry to the party.
"All right, sweetheart. It looks like it's outside now." She grabbed a card from her wallet and placed it in his hand. "Here. To pay. And perhaps you can get some breakfast with your friends tomorrow, too. You know, for the hangover."
He almost laughed. "You've been drinking too much."
Harry's father laughed, too. "She's amazing when she drinks."
Harry shook his head, but couldn't help letting out a breathy chuckle as he got up from the table. "Don't let her drink more, Dad."
He leaned down to give her a kiss on the cheek. "Goodnight, Mum."
"Night, honey."
"Have fun," said his father. "And your mum was joking about the hangover. Don't drink too much. Curfew at two. And I want a picture of proof with Dusty."
"Are you two even going to be home by then?"
"We might get a hotel."
"Ew, Dad!"
"What?"
Harry grimaced. "Disgusting. Bye now."
"Bye!" His parents waved, and Harry made a beeline for the exit. He got his coat back and left the restaurant swiftly. The car was indeed waiting outside, and he released a breath of relief the moment they were headed back to his part of town. Finally. He felt odd watching his parents manoeuvre around one another. Sometimes they were awful. Sometimes they were happy. In the last few months, they had changed back and forth so often that he didn't know what was real anymore. It made him feel lonely, like he was outside of it all, constantly trying to understand.
He arrived at the party two minutes past eleven. It was only an hour until midnight, and the house seemed full, like most people had already arrived. Harry carefully began to tread his way through the hallway. He had never been to this house before, but he knew the girl who lived there. She was a cheerleader called Kelly, whom he had spoken to once or twice during game nights. She sometimes brought paint to line their faces with before matches, and she generally seemed like good fun. To offer her house up to most of the senior year on New Year's Eve was pretty brave in Harry's opinion.
The house was fairly dark, with smaller lamps lit here and there, but most of the light seemed to consist of old-fashioned lava lamps and circulating disco balls that flashed in colour. Kelly had large speakers set up in the middle of the house that were on full blast, but most people appeared to be standing or sitting in large groups around the house, drinking alcohol or smoking weed, rather than to be dancing.
Harry kept a careful eye out for Zayn, but the first person he noticed that he knew was Liam. He was in the living room - an extravagant room not so different from Harry's at home - but he was snogging his girlfriend, so Harry didn't approach. He then spotted Louis' blond friend kissing a brunette girl from his science class, and there were plenty more of his football teammates who seemed to have paired off with girls. Harry had had a couple of drinks, so he didn't feel entirely sober, but he wasn't drunk enough not to notice the uncomfortable air of people looking for someone to pull. Harry didn't like it.
He walked to the kitchen, got a beer, and strode back towards the living room. Ed grabbed his shoulder there, and they talked for a few minutes before Harry finally spotted Zayn and waved him over. The three of them headed out to the backyard, where there was a terrace with outdoor furniture. People had accumulated there around the ashtrays. Ed and Zayn smoked, and Harry drank beer. It wasn't that the party was boring. It looked fun. Harry just didn't feel quite part of it yet.
"You okay, lad?" asked Zayn. Harry wondered how his friend found it so easy, hanging out in the middle of the sea of people he didn't know.
"Yeah, just a long dinner with my parents."
"I know what you mean," said Ed, shaking his head and making his red hair fly. "My parents are crazy about New Year's. Too much food, too many of their friends. I was glad to get out of there quickly. Plus, there's a girl in my maths I've been wanting to hang out with... If you know what, I mean." His grin was filthy.
"Melissa?" asked Harry.
"Yeah!"
"I saw her snogging Niall."
Ed's face fell. "Niall?"
"Tomlinson's friend," clarified Zayn. Harry looked at him, and their eyes met at the mention of Louis.
"Fuck! Dammit," swore Ed. He looked briefly defeated, but after only a few minutes he was picking himself up, jumping a little up and down as though he were shaking real pain out of his body. "Don't worry. I'll find someone else. Her loss."
Harry chuckled at his rallying and watched his teammate stride off into the house, clearly a man on a mission.
"Where's your lad then?" asked Zayn, voice quieter.
Harry looked at him, slightly cautious. He didn't want to be reprimanded again, and they hadn't really talked about Louis since the party at Liam's.
"Don't worry," his friend said calmly. He took a few strides away from the nearest group of people, and Harry followed him silently until they were secluded enough for conversation. "I've said what I wanted. It's your choice," he shrugged.
Harry exhaled, pursing his lips. He felt a little uncomfortable, and there wasn't much to say. "I haven't seen him since school ended."
Zayn squinted at him. "You really like him, don't you?"
Harry huffed out another breath and crossed his arms. "I don't know about that, mate. I just..." He didn't finish.
"You want to snog him on New Year's, of course."
"No. I," he hesitated. The truth of it was more complicated. He only knew he wouldn't be happy if he saw Louis kissing someone else that night. "I don't want him to kiss anyone else," he mumbled.
"I'm gonna' find him," said Zayn.
Harry gaped. His friend's face had turned determined. "What - no, Zayn! What are you doing?!"
Zayn slapped Harry's hand off his arm. "Don't worry, I'm not saying anything. I'll just help find him. And I will kick his fucking arse if he's out there pulling some other bloke. For real."
Harry was about to yell at him to stop, but suddenly the music in the house cut out. Using a megaphone, someone from the top floor of the house shouted, "Thirty minutes till midnight! Let's get fucking pissed!" and it stopped them in their tracks, but then the music was back on, louder.
"Who the hell's got a megaphone," laughed Zayn. "Fucking bonkers."
Harry allowed himself to laugh. "Mad lad."
Zayn grinned, and then he grabbed Harry's upper arm. "C'mon. Let's go get your bloke."
"He isn't -"
"Shut up."