star sailors (l.s.)

8. Hate

Louis' POV

I never told my dad I hated him.

I scribbled into my diary when I was ten.

I whispered it into Lottie’s ears when she was just two.

I screamed it into my pillow at night when no one listened.

Now I’m too old to do such bullshit anymore.

I’m basically and adult now. I’m sure once I earned enough money, I’ll get a flat for me and Zayn and after the holidays, I’ll start going to university.

I’m eighteen now. Harry would be sixteen. I think I started liking him when I was fifteen.

I really want to know what he looks like now. Maybe he’ll be as pretty as I imagine.

The drive to the campsite takes about four hours. My sisters keep shouting and giggling next to me.

My dad is silent today. Mum is always. I like it that way most. It almost sounds as if we’re a happy family.

I’m only coming with them to see him again. I want to at least get his number this year.

Maybe I’ll kiss him. If I’m brave enough.

When he wasn’t there last year, everything went downhill. Each year, those few days I saw him, were the best ones.

Each year those weeks gave me hope.

And then he wasn’t there. I wondered what could’ve happened.

Whether he didn’t want to come with his parents anymore. But they weren’t there either.

Or maybe, they went another time than we did. But usually, they always went at the start of August, just like us.

Maybe they just decided on another destination.

I keep staring out of the window, imagining his eyes, God, his beautiful eyes.

Sometimes I thought he didn’t just like space, he was space.

His eyes were the stars, his soul was the moon, his smile was the sun.

I never liked anyone like him.

I once had a girlfriend when I was sixteen. I didn’t really like her. It felt good that she liked me though.

And it was a little as if dad appreciated when I brought her home, when I kissed her really long and hard in the driveway so that he saw.

Look, dad, I thought, I like girls. I am a real man, I’m kissing her, look how she reacts, how her knees go weak, how she moans quietly. Look, dad, I’m not a faggot.

I had to break up with her because she wanted more. As much as I liked the attention I got from dad, I couldn’t, not mentally, not physically, sleep with her.

Now that I think about it, I don’t even want her to be my first kiss anymore. I would want Harry to be my first one.