He felt sad, but tried not to show it.
—-
"Happy birthday, man." The quiet one said.
"Thanks," he said.
"If Louis was still here-" The Irish one stopped himself.
"Yeah," he said.
"I'm- I'm sorry. Out of all of us you guys were the closest." The Irish one said.
"Yeah," he replied monotonously. He stared at the girl. She had pretty flowers woven into her long, dark hair. She was constantly rearranging her bangs as they fell into her eyes, and on one such occasion, she happened to look up.
They made eye contact.
The right side of her lips went up in a pained half-smile. He reciprocated the action. A vanilla cupcake sat on one side of her book. A mug of tea on the other. Cold.
"Happy birthday to you..." The Irish one sang lowly.
She looked down.
Harry carefully studied her.
Happy birthday... she mouthed.
—-
She felt sad.
