PLEASE READ THIS MESSAGE: a weird thing happened with my Wattpad account last week, so you might have not seen my update because nothing was proccessing correctly....... so if you aren't 100000000000000000000000% sure if you missed the last update, please double check so that this one makes sense!!
A/N - Okay this was completely unplanned because I had actually forgotten that today was update day until I was about to log off the laptop! I have been very busy because I am a BRAND NEW AUNTIE!!! My sister gave birth on Saturday, and I have my very first nephew! He is beautiful....
I really hope you like this, and I hope that it isn't completely unstructured and rambly due to the complete lack of any ideas! Y'all know the drill of the cool things you can do to make me smiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiile!! I lovey some votes and lovey some follows and looooovey some comments!!!
Love you all, my sweetums!!
PS. This chapter mentions smoking in quite a positive way, but I am in no means encouraging anyone to start up a smoking habit! If you do smoke, this isn't meant to offend in anyway, but if you don't smoke, I 100% DO NOT RECOMMEND OKAY, NO SMOKEY NO SMOKEY
Louis still hadn’t arrived at class when the clock ticked onto ten minutes into first period. Harry tried to tell himself that this was normal, that maybe he missed the bus or was late because the twins wouldn’t eat breakfast. Or maybe he was in school, and was busy kissing his girlfriend behind the geography block. Harry told himself that if that was the case, then at least it proved that Harry hadn’t ruined everything. Maybe Louis had gotten caught up with friends, and was telling them about last night, about how it was fun and the music was great until that weirdo Harry got a little too tipsy and turned gay for the night.
Harry knew, of course, that none of that was true.
Harry isn't dumb. He knew he had messed up royally.
Louis just wasn’t in school, and Harry was 95% certain that the reason was him.
~-~
From Harry (9:10am): Louis isn’t here
Niall got the text ten minutes into first period, and really, he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel about it. Louis was probably just late.
English was the only class Harry shared with Louis, and it just happened to be first period, so Niall was certain that Louis was just late, and Harry was overreacting.
To Harry (9:12am): Okay?
From Harry (9:13am): He’s never late Niall, he’s always there first.
To Harry (9:17am): Maybe he’s sick? He did seem a bit funny when he went home last night, I thought you two were planning on leaving together?
From Harry (9:18am): We were but then I fucked shit up and now I’m scared
Niall stared down at his phone, Harry’s fear near tangible, and made his decision. He dropped his phone into his bag and stuck his hand in the air, catching his teacher’s attention.
“Yes, Niall?” Mr Clarke asked patiently, he was a nice teacher. He always brought digestives for the end of exams, and he opted for a laid back style of teaching.
Niall held up his English book, ‘Niall Horan – English Literature – Class 10EMC’ carefully inscribed on the front, “I’ve got my mate Harry’s book by mistake, can I go to his class and swap?”
“By all means, Niall, but be quick okay?” Mr Clarke answered, continuing to mark a book whilst the rest of the class was finishing writing up a list of their Top 5 Shakespearean Sonnets, “We’re taking our first look at Hamlets first soliloquy today and if you miss it you’ll find the assessment twice as difficult.”
“Thanks, Sir.” Niall threw over his shoulder as he rushed out of the room, book tucked under his elbow, towards Harry’s class. When he arrived he knocked briskly on the classroom door, cracked it open, and smiled brightly at Harry’s teacher, “Hi Miss, Mr Clarke sent me to collect Harry, he said he needed a word with him about something that happened between him and a student in my class.”
Miss Fryer frowned, but nodded anyway, and Harry stared at Niall in confusion from his seat. However, he rose to his feet slowly anyway, and wound his way through the desks and followed Niall out of the room and down the corridor – past Mr Clarke’s room (“Niall, Mr Clarkes room this that wa-” “I know. Follow me Harry.”) and outside, and they finally stopped when they were leaning against the fencing to the tennis courts, where they couldn’t be seen.
“What the fuck happened?” Niall asked bluntly.
Niall had learnt through years of friendship with Harry, that when he was upset it was best to be blunt with him. If you decide to go with ‘soothing and understanding’ Harry will probably start crying; if you go with ‘tell me when you’re ready’ Harry will clam up and decide that he will be ready at precisely never; and if you go with ‘blunt’ Harry just wants you to be cheery again, so he will answer.
Harry shifted against the fence, and Niall huffed and decided to kick him jokingly in the calf as an incentive.
It worked.
“I kind of decided that it would be a good idea to try and kiss him last night, and it turns out that our schools token ‘gay boy’ is actually our not-so-token ‘bisexual boy with a girlfriend’.”
Niall blinked, spat the gum he had been chewing out onto the grass behind him, and replied with a noticeably more ‘holy fuck’ tone to his voice, “You what?”
Harry grimaced, “I tried to kiss Louis, then when he told me he had a girlfriend, I tried to convince him that he was gay as could be and that it would be best for him to kiss me.”
Niall paused, ran a hand roughly through his hair, and stared at his friend in unadulterated shock, “What the fuck did you smoke that night?”
Harry whined, and decided that maybe he needed to branch out and make some more friends, or maybe he needed to get laid. Maybe, in fact, he should just take up smoking as a permanent habit because Louis hadn’t been able to take his eyes off of Harry for the entire time the burning stick was clamped between alcohol-sticky lips. That one seemed a little more likely, and a lot more suicidal. But Harry had plenty of friends, and Kate was always up for it but Harry never felt interested.
“I don’t know Niall, I don’t even want to kiss boys normally!” Harry cried, hands clutched nervously by his side, Niall noticed.
“Normally?” Niall questioned, “As in normally you don’t, but now ya’do?”
Harry whined again, “No?” He licked his lips, skin sore from where he had been worrying his lip between his teeth, “Yes?” Harry swore loudly and colourfully, and then finished with, “No?”
Niall laughed, even though the situation felt a little too serious to be a laughing matter, “No?”
Harry tried to kick a pebble that was lying close by, he missed, and asked Niall, “Do you have a ciggy?”
Niall frowned, “You tryin’ to start up a habit or summat?”
Harry nodded, “Better smoking than snogging boys, right?”
And this was where Niall flicked Harry in the ear, “Fucking answer me Harry, do you wan’to kiss lads?”
“I was drunk.” Harry stated.
Niall ignored him, “Do ya like the idea of kissing boys?”
“Really, I had matched you drink for drink and had four extra, I have a headache and everything.” Harry delayed.
“Harry, shut the fuck up.”
Harry then shrugged, eyes locked on the floor, heart positively aching for a suicide stick to be clutching between his fingers, smoke catching in the breeze, “I was drunk and I… I dunno really.” Niall looked like he was about to shove Harry’s metaphorical cigarette up Harry’s arsehole, so Harry cleared up what he meant, “I don’t want to kiss any old boy, but I liked the idea of kissing Louis when I practically had alcohol for blood, but now I’m sober and I don’t know how I feel, but it doesn’t matter either way because Louis hasn’t even come into school.”
Niall nodded, “You scared that he hates ya now?”
Harry nodded too, “Yeah, I mean, he’s my mate now, y’know?”
Niall pulled Harry into a hug, “Did you tell him that? Does he know that he’s your mate?”
Harry pulled away from the hug as his eyebrows crinkled in confusion.
“What I mean is, Louis has ‘ad everyone desert him ‘cause of whatever happened on holiday, but you offered him friendship and he probably is worried that there’s a secret motive, and he probably thinks you were takin’ the piss last night.”
Harry smiled and Niall smiled back, “You’re right, it is probably that simple.”
~-~
And as Louis lies in bed, flat on his back and unmoving because otherwise his cuts sting like hell, with his blinds closed and his eyes closed and his door closed, he wished he could close the door on everything else too.
Louis knew, as he was lying in bed, that it wasn’t ‘that simple’, because when you think about depression, simple isn’t the word to describe it, is it?