A/N: Hello again lovlies :) I'm so happy with the response I've been getting on this story, it's incredible! Writing boyxboy is way too fun... I'm really enjoying this. Yeah, my chapter is long again, but I feel like I need to detail this. My endings are rather dull, I'm trying to improve that, but in order to, my chapters would be 230943 pages longer. Anyway, thank you so much, I really appreciate it :)
Dedication goes to @StarsNStripes for being such a great friend for me. She makes me smile on a daily basis; I love her more than I love some of my real friends. I just wish we were closer together geographically, because she means the world to me<3 x
Louis was more than tired when he got home late that night—he was exhausted.
It wasn’t only a physical exhaustion; it was a mental tiredness that made his shoulders hunch and his head pound. He was feeling strange, almost like the night hadn’t really happened, and he’d been observing the whole thing through his slightly-distorted vision.
Louis remembered how he was mocked, how the girl looked at his wrists, how she couldn’t help but gasp. He remembered, yes, but he didn’t really feel it. The pain was numbed for some reason, which relieved and confused Louis at the same time. Without pain, the thing that constantly rode alongside Louis, he felt different.
And whatever different was, it was better.
Louis ran a hand through his tousled hair, closing his eyes briefly. He was starving; after a long shift like that, all Louis needed was a bowl of pot noodles and his ragged duvet. So he set to work, heating up some water on the eye of his stove and waiting until it boiled before adding the noodles.
As his food cooked, he quickly emptied his pockets so he could change back into his sleeping wear. Louis’s phone—much to his surprise—was glowing with five missed calls, all from Zayn. Now, Zayn did care for him and all, but it wasn’t normal for him to call him more than once or twice. Especially if Louis didn’t answer.
Louis, feeling a little wary, listened to his first voicemail that Zayn had left:
Hey Louis, it’s Zayn. I’m pretty worried about you, I’ve been texting and calling, and you don’t answer. Everything alright? I can stop by and check in on you anytime, just ring me. I’m seriously concerned.
Louis sighed and deleted that one, moving on the next.
Are you okay, man? This feels off… I hope you’re not doing anything stupid. Louis, if you need someone, you know you can always talk to me. But please, whatever’s going on, don’t do anything that you’ll regret.
Zayn’s voice carried a warning to it, which made Louis laugh bitterly. If only Zayn knew how he treated himself… He’d probably feel like it was his fault—which wasn’t completely true. Louis just didn’t know how to handle what most people could. And he definitely couldn’t talk about it.
And so, Louis decided to ignore Zayn again.
It was a subconscious decision. Louis had already made it this far alone, and he was past the point of needing people. Friendship was a foreign hope for Louis, an unrealistic dream. It had been months since he could call someone friend, even Zayn. Zayn didn’t understand what was happening to Louis, and he didn’t really want him to. Louis felt like his secrets were best kept to himself, because he’d tried for years to keep them just that: secrets.
Besides, this was Louis’s battle. He was fighting with his will to live, and he knew that only he would be able to resolve this conflict.
Louis’s noodles began to boil over, so Louis quickly turned off the heat and added the seasoning. The soup was dumped into a chipped bowl, still steaming. Louis put his hands around the hot base, thankful for the heat it provided because his hands were numb with cold.
Louis sat criss-cross on the sofa with only the lights from outside to fend off the darkness. It was quite eerie, then, how the shadows bended and danced in the corners of his room. He felt like he was the only one awake at in Doncaster; the feeling was rather empowering, yet rather desolate at the same time. Louis was again reminded that common theme in his life: loneliness.
Though once-upon-a-time, Louis had been happy. His childhood, like any other, was filled with loads of cherished memories and good times. His mum made sure he was healthy, and well-cared for. She spoiled him a lot too, being the oldest and only boy. She coddled him like any other mum would, and Louis, for a long time, was happy.
Louis was close to his mother, yes, but he had a special bond with his dad. They could talk about anything, from football to puberty, and Louis felt completely comfortable around him. Whenever Louis had an issue, he always went to his father first, which his mother understood and accepted. After all, Louis’s four sisters were much more attached to her than their father. It was natural.
So you can imagine how devastated Louis was when his parents split.
The divorce was particularly tough for Louis. Without a male figure to confide in, Louis chose to keep certain things private because he didn’t really feel comfortable telling his mum. Sure, they were pretty close, but Louis just couldn’t talk to her like he could his dad.
And so, the secrets began.
Louis’s very first secret was perhaps his most shameful one. He often found himself thinking—if he had been straight, would his life be different? He probably wouldn’t be depressed, maybe he’d still be close with his family. Maybe he’d be happy. Would he have a girlfriend? Perhaps he’d be engaged by this point, planning out his future with his wife-to-be, excited for what time would bring him.
But his life didn’t play out like that.
Louis was about fourteen when he began to realise just how different he was from the other boys. Especially the boys on his football squad, who has always considered Louis a friend. They joked around with him in the locker rooms, asking if he’d shagged a girl, and if so, who? He always made up lies just to satisfy them so they didn’t suspect him. And for a while, it worked.
But Louis found it so hard to keep his eyes off his teammates when they walked around shirtless in the locker rooms, showing off their bare chests. He would often find himself staring at their toned backs, admiring the way their chiseled muscles caught the light. Louis would watch from afar, silently disgusted at himself for liking it so much, because it wasn’t normal. The other boys didn’t do this, so why would he?
Of course, his teammates quickly caught on to Louis’s little game. They knew how he watched them, and immediately, he lost all his friends on the team. They called him a prick, a fag, a queer. No longer did they pass him the ball during matches, and they ignored everything he said on the pitch, despite his starting position. Some of them even refused to call Louis a part of the team.
It was the first crack in Louis’s foundation.
It all bubbled over after a training session in early May. Louis was packing his stuff, getting ready for his mum to pick him up when a few of the older boys ganged up on him. They locked the door to the changing rooms and beat Louis mercilessly, despite his whimpers for help. Nothing was spared; his face, his arms, his torso, it was all bruised and bloodied. Louis honestly feared his life that night; they were so intent on hurting him, all because he couldn’t keep his wandering eyes away.
When the boys finally left him alone, Louis was barely conscious. Blood was streaming from a nasty gash on his cheek where he had been kicked, and several of his ribs were severely bruised. His eyes were swelled shut; he could barely see out of them. Every part of him was bruised, but nothing hurt worse than his pride. He knew that he couldn’t return to playing football, not anymore.
So he quit.
His mum was so baffled that night when Louis came home. She asked him countless questions, all which he ignored. She had a faint idea what happened, but Louis was so hurt about it that she didn’t dare press him. His mum figured that the boys were being typical teenagers, fighting over silly things.
She never even thought that her son was being bullied.
Louis got chills as he sat on the sofa, remembering that night. It was hellish, to say the least. No, that wouldn’t be the first time he’d be beaten up, but it certainly wasn’t something he’d forget for his entire life. It was the first time he realised how hated he was.
That cruel reality was like a dose of cold water. It reminded him that the real world was a lot shitter than he thought.
Louis slurped on his soup, his eyes wandering mindlessly around his messy flat. His mind was a thousand other places than on his sofa. He was so awake; his thoughts were flying around so fast. Tonight had given him a lot to think about, but it wasn’t entirely negative. In fact, Louis felt him lips tug into a small smile as it came back to him.
See, Louis was thinking about him again.
He didn’t even know his name.
But he was absolutely, positively mad for him.
His voice—Louis couldn’t get it out of his mind. It was raspy and jagged, yet oddly smooth. One word is all it took to send shivers down Louis’s spine.
He wanted to hear him say his name.
No, Louis wanted more than that. He wanted him to whimper his name, he wanted him to whisper it in his ear, he wanted—
No, Louis thought to himself firmly. Stop that right now.
But it was so hard to keep those scenes from playing in his mind. The boy was like a box of possibilities, each more sweet and pleasurable than the last. And Louis wanted to test every last one out.
He began to get drowsy once he had finished his noodles, but he didn’t want to walk the distance to his room because the sofa was so warm. Louis pulled the duvet closer around him and closed his eyes, feeling something close to contentment. He began to drift off, a certain green-eyed boy floating in and out of his dreams…
***
Knock, knock.
The sound made Louis stir, but it didn’t fully wake him up. He ignored the noise, and buried his head deeper into his duvet, intent on getting back to sleep.
Knock, knock.
This time the noise was a little more forceful and deliberate. Louis was slightly annoyed at this point, because it was probably the flat-owner complaining that he hadn’t paid his fees on time or something. Besides, he didn’t get paid for another two days, so he couldn’t shut her up until then.
“Louis?” A voice called uncertainly. “Er—are you up?”
Louis opened his eyes feebly, awoken by the unfamiliar voice coming from outside his door. It wasn’t Zayn, but it was definitely masculine. And Louis never had male company over…
He groaned, throwing the duvet around his shoulders and sleepily making his way over to the door. He unlocked the lock and opened it, still not fully awake.
“Oh—hi,” the stranger said, blinking at Louis. He has fiery red hair and sharp blue eyes. “Er, you’re Louis right?”
“Mhm,” Louis yawned, running a hand through his hair. He blinked at the stranger, waiting for some sort of explanation because he didn’t know who the hell this was, or why he had woke him up so early.
“Oh, I’m Ed Sheeran,” the man said, picking up on Louis’s confusion. He stuck out a hand for Louis to shake. He took it nervously, not accustomed to such formalities. “I’m a really good friend of Zayn’s; he’s been talking about you forever and I decided I wanted to meet you. He told me you lived here, hope that’s not an issue.”
There was a false cheeriness in his voice that didn’t really line up with the situation. Louis couldn’t remember anyone being this excited about meeting him, especially in the morning. He wasn’t exactly a pretty sight, with his unshaven face and messy morning hair.
“Uh—right,” Louis said warily. “That’s… cool.”
“Yeah,” Ed laughed, ignoring the reluctance in Louis’s voice. He leaned against his doorframe, taking in all of Louis’s features. It made Louis’s cheeks flush. “You work at the White Heart pub, don’t you?”
“Well, yeah,” Louis said, surprised. How did Ed know that? And why was he here, visiting Louis so early? He had a feeling Zayn was behind all this. “Er—no offense, but I don’t really know you… Am I supposed to?”
“I work the shift before you,” Ed smiled. “I’m the day manager.”
The wheels in Louis’s mind clicked; he had seen this man before, he just couldn’t remember him that well. It was different seeing him outside work, leaning casually against his doorframe, dressed in a simple green hoodie and baggy jeans. His ginger hair was unkempt in a styled way, and his blue eyes were warm and friendly. Despite Louis’s doubts, he looked like a genuine guy.
“Ah,” Louis answered. “So, er—what do you want?”
“Oh, you see, I was wondering if you wanted to come round for dinner tonight,” he responded immediately. It was almost too quick, like the line had been rehearsed. “Any mate of Zayn’s is a mate of mine, yeah?”
“Uh,” he stuttered, completely bewildered. He’d never been invited to dinner before, and definitely not the house of a stranger. “I-I don’t know, I mean—“
“C’mon, Louis,” Ed grinned, sticking his hands into his pocket. “I’ve already started a meal at home, even though my cooking skills are shit.”
Louis didn’t know how to reject this man standing in front of him, especially when he was giving him that pleading gaze. Mad at himself for being so nice, he sighed and nodded.
“Alright, I’ll come...” Louis said. “What time?”
“I’ll pick you up around six or so,” Ed said happily. Louis could tell he was relieved that he had accepted his invitation, which put up more red flags. This whole situation was rather dodgy.
“Er—okay,” Louis sighed. “Alright, uh—I’ll see you then, I guess.”
He was about to close the door when Ed put his foot in the opening, effectively stopping him. Louis looked up, surprised.
“Last thing—I have a friend staying at my house,” Ed said quickly. “His name is Harry, he just moved from Cheshire and he’s got a lot of things going on right now… So don’t be surprised if he’s rude or anything, he doesn’t mean it. He’s usually really kind.”
“Right,” Louis said blankly, not sure how this would affect him. “I’ll uh—remember that.”
Ed grinned and clapped Louis on the shoulder.
“Alright, man, I’ll see you later,” he smiled, and then disappeared down the corner, leaving Louis utterly baffled.
He shut the door slowly, almost positive that this was Zayn’s doing. In order to make himself feel better about leaving Louis alone, he had one of his friends invite him over for a dinner. It was something Zayn would do; he hated leaving Louis over the holidays.
Louis sighed heavily, resigned to the fact that he had actual plans tonight. Not even a real dinner, more like a pity dinner, which was even worse. He didn’t want a stranger’s guilty invite, even if he was friends with Zayn. Sure, Ed seemed like a nice guy, but Louis didn’t particularly want to spend a whole evening with him and his dodgy-sounding friend, Harry. After all, Louis wasn’t a people’s person… At all.
He would tell Zayn off for this when he saw him next—Louis hated pity. And Zayn should know that, being his supposed “best mate.”
Louis closed the door slowly, feeling anxious already for tonight. He didn’t know what he was going to wear, or how he was supposed to handle himself at someone else’s house; it had been so long since he went round for dinner. He’d forgotten everything.
Louis sighed and rubbed the stubble on his chin tiredly. He wasn’t up to this, he knew it. Not only would there be one practical stranger, there would also be this Harry. The name sounded kind of familiar; Louis knew he’d heard it somewhere, but he was much too tired to try and figure it out. He’d have plenty of time to sort out that later.
Until then, Louis supposed he would have to go shopping for something nice, and clean himself up for this dinner tonight.