next to you ❀ l.s.

twenty two - thanksgiving

As soon as he stepped off of the plane, Louis felt an invisible weight lift off of his shoulders. The air in his hometown felt clearer, somehow. It wasn't polluted with college classes and impossible exams and the responsibility of living on his own.

And other responsibilities, which seemed to be piling up around his eyes, blocking his view.

Even the small airport in his hometown was as fast-paced as any airport. Everyone seemed to have someplace important to be, and they were intent on getting there as quickly as humanly possible. Louis barely made it out into the short-term parking lot, narrowly avoiding a few serious collisions with well-dressed businesswomen and families with far too many children.

He caught sight of his mum's bright red car before he actually saw her. "Mum!" he called out, waving wildly over top of the moving crowd. He swung his bag up to his chest so that he could weave through the sea of people more smoothly, making his way to his family.

"Lou! Oh, baby," his mother gushed dramatically, pulling him in for a hug as soon as he was close enough. "You're getting so big! What are you now? Five foot eleven?"

"Mum, I haven't grown since high school," Louis laughed, waving her off. He glanced into the backseat, surprised to find it empty. "Where's the little rascal?" he asked, inquiring after his youngest sister.

"She's home sleeping." His mother ushered him into the passenger seat, taking his bag from him and placing it in the backseat before coming around the driver's side. "Stan's there watching her, but she's been sleeping like the dead lately. No chance she's woken up by the time we get back."

Louis's heart dropped into his stomach. "You said Stan's at the house?"

"Oh, Lou. I know it might be a bit awkward for you two, but Stan lives so close and I trust him. It's just more convenient to call him as a last minute sitter," she explained as she pulled out of the airport lot. "I know you two are broken up now, but you're still friends, aren't you?"

Louis nodded weakly, turning to look out the window -- his mother had always had a special knack for seeing right through him, and he couldn't afford that right now.

He may or may not have told a teeny tiny white lie about his breakup with Stan: that they parted ways amicably.

His mother didn't even like Stan all that much when he and Louis were actually together, but she was definitely comfortable with him. They had dated for two years, after all, so Stan had grown well-acquainted with his family. When everything went south, Louis just didn't have the heart to tarnish the other boy's character to his family.

There was surely an element of embarrassment mixed into the complicated mess, as well. How could he tell his mum and sisters that the boy he thought he was going to marry had completely betrayed his trust? As silly as it sounded, he used to wonder if they would even believe him -- Stan's reputation in their hometown was impeccable, and everyone knew him as the well-raised, well-mannered son of the local doctor. Louis often imagined that if he told anyone -- even his family -- about their breakup, that they would blame him. They would say he deserved it or they would say he brought it upon himself somehow. Stan could do no wrong, so Louis must have been the rotten apple in the bottom of the barrel.

In other words, he had gotten himself into this mess. Instead of just biting the bullet and telling his mum everything that had happened between them and the real reasons that they ended things, he was about to walk into his childhood home and be confronted by his lovely ex-boyfriend who had cheated on him -- with a girl.

"Do you need help carrying anything?" his mother asked as she pulled into the driveway.

"I'm alright. Just have the one bag," Louis told her with a forced smile. The engine went dead, plunging them into an eerie silence. Louis couldn't help feeling a bit like a movie character; he had suspenseful, ominous music playing in his head on a loop, every note building up to the moment he walked in the front door.