Harry, Harry, Harry... Louis

Chapter 8

It's been three days since... the incident.

When I say incident, I mean me masturbating to the thought of Louis. I still haven't recovered from that.

I've been avoiding him like the plague. I've spent the past days locked up in my room. I just sit at my desk, reading and writing. I stay as quiet as I can, make myself as small as possible.

Maman and Papa have noticed my behavior. They've come at my door everyday.

"Tu ne te sens pas bien mon chéri?"

"Everything is good Maman. Ne t'en fais pas. Just feeling a bit ill." I had answered, making sure the door had stayed closed. I wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone.

I try my best not to think about him. Every time the color blue pops into my head, I distract myself by thinking of brown. Cherry chapstick. Jeanne.

I do everything to push him far away in the back of my thoughts. I want to swipe him off my memory. Not remember anything about him. I want to get rid of this uncomfortable feeling I have when I think about him and I know that seeing him won't help me forget that said feeling.

I only sneak out of my room at night, to make sure that I don't run into anyone. I go to the kitchen and stock up on food for the day after.

My plan is going pretty well. I haven't been in the same room as him for the past seventy-two hours. He hasn't knocked on my bedroom door. I bet he doesn't care. I know he doesn't.

I know that what I'm doing is completely impractical. I can't avoid him forever. I will eventually have to face him someday. And it's not like he knows anything. For now, I'll just keep my distance.

It's nighttime and I'm currently heading to the door of the bathroom leading to Louis' room. I put my ear against it and listen carefully.

He's snoring. He's asleep.

I tiptoe back to my room and walk out the door leading to the hallway.

This is so stupid.

I keep telling myself each night that it'll be the last. That tomorrow, I'll stop being a baby and just face him.

I shouldn't let him have this much control over me.

"Tonight is the last night you're doing this Styles." I mumble to myself while slowly walking down the stairs.

I'll stop avoiding him. I'll just ignore him. I can do that. It's not that difficult.

As I make my way to the kitchen, I mentally make a note to myself to call Jeanne tomorrow as well. I haven't talked to her since she ran out of my room. It's a dick move on my part. I need to sort things out with her, apologize for being an asshole.

I grab the rest of a loaf of bread from the pantry, with a couple of peaches and a bowl of cherries. I'm fucking starving. I decide to not go back to my room immediately and instead enjoy my snacks here.

I pull out a chair and sit next to the kitchen counter, where I start feasting. I just shove uncontrollably everything I can put my hands on into my mouth.

Slowly but surely, my tummy gets full. I sign in satisfaction.

As I'm cleaning up the counter, I hear footsteps in the distance. They seem to get louder and louder.

Shit.

I quickly close the light and hide in the pantry.

He's in the kitchen. I say he but it might be Maman of Mafalda.