Snow | L.S.

Day Seven

23rd June 2008.

Louis felt guilty.

After one week, the guilt was still consuming him.

Why did he feel guilty?

What he had done was no different from the torture he had to endure since Year Eight.

Teach him a lesson. He deserves this, his subconscious kept telling him.

And like a bitter coward, Louis had listened.

He remembered standing on the sidelines with the examiners from the best athletic schools, observing Kingston Academy's supposed, talented football captain. He remembered the bag of lies he fed to them, painting Harry as a bad student - which wasn't necessarily false, he was a bad student - one who bullied and got away with it, one who never did his homework, one who got away with everything because the teachers were past the point in caring about his antics anymore. He remembered the pure dirty look Harry gave him when he had clocked him, practically seeing the apprehension radiating from him when he noticed Louis was talking to his dream school's representative. But Louis also remembered how distracted Harry had been by Louis' presence, someone he had never seen at his games before (Louis tended to keep hidden whenever he watched Harry play, but that would remain a secret Harry would never find out about) and how Liam booted the ball towards him, seeing he was the only player on his team open, and hitting the side of Harry's face with so much force, it had knocked him down. The rival school claimed the ball and scored the winning goal of the match.

For the first time since Harry had been captain, Kingston Academy had lost.

When everyone started to filter away, Louis said goodbye to the sports schools' representatives and slipped away before Harry could catch up with him. He watched from afar however, behind the side of the tennis courts, where Louis usually watched him play, as Harry approached the officials from the schools and saw how his shoulders dropped when they had obviously told him he was unsuccessful in his application. Harry was the last person remaining on the pitch and Louis watched him kick the football as hard has he possibly could across the field with an accompanying, angry roar.

Louis had also remembered the way his heart had felt like it had broken in two after hearing the pain ripping through Harry's scream.

Because he was the one who had caused it.

"Knock, knock," Louis' mum's voice tore him out of his swimming thoughts and returned him to the reality which was struggling to tie a Windsor knot around his neck in front of his mirror. "Oh, don't you look handsome!" Johannah complimented, walking further into her son's room.

"Mum, help," Louis whined, ripping his tie from his shirt collar and holding it out to her.

Johannah smirked. "You sure you're not too old for that now?" she asked, having a clear dig at him from their conversation the other day when Louis claimed he was 'too old for mum's help now'.

"Please?"

Johannah shook her head fondly as she took the light blue tie and began crossing one end over the other. "Are you nervous?"

"Not really." Louis shrugged.

"Are you sure you don't want to bring anyone? It's your prom! The only prom you'll ever get."