Where Do We Go Now?

Past.

Sixteen was an interesting year for Harry, his sister broke her arm and it was her last year of school, his grandfather he wasn't very close with passed away and oh. Of course. The Louis situation.

Harry was certain that he was one hundred percent deeply in love with Louis Tomlinson.

He'd decided maybe there was something wrong with him. And it wasn't the gay thing, he was fine with the gay thing, it was the fact that no matter how goddamn hard he tried, he couldn't for the love of God, move on from Louis.

For a while Harry convinced himself he liked a boy in his science class, Robert, who had blond short hair and blueish green eyes, but that fell away quickly after he told Harry he liked rap music and thought Kanye West made Taylor Swift famous. Harry nearly threw up in the nearest bin at that.

Once Harry got asked by a brunette girl called Rose if he'd like to sit with her at lunch, and seeing as Louis usually sat with the other football boys and not with Harry now, Harry decided that maybe being straight for a moment was better than being lonely.

It wasn't.

It also fell away when halfway through the lunch Louis sat down in between them and smiled at Harry, ignoring the girl. Harry was in deep.

Gemma convinced him at one point Louis liked him back, and they devised a plan for when Harry went to a party of the next Saturday. But as Harry opened the door to talk to Louis, he walked in on him kissing a girl and held in tears for the rest of the night.

Now that they were older, Harry could feel Louis slipping away.

Slowly but surely, they hung out less, called less, texted less. Everything was just less than it was before and Harry had to swallow the lump in his throat whenever he saw the boy. So, when he was invited on a bike ride with Louis, he was more ecstatic than ever.

The air was chilly with the autumn sun, or lack of, due to the grey rolling clouds, the countryside where they were was empty and all fields of tall grass. After what felt like a million years Louis called out to him to stop so they could eat the sandwiches they brought.

They both sat in the field, chewing on their food, and Harry tried not to pay attention to the purple mark on the side of Louis neck, under his ear. Where Harry had wanted to kiss for so. Many. Years.

"So," Louis said quietly, as if anxious, what did he have to be anxious about? "How have you been?"

"Fine." Harry snapped, feeling irritated. Louis glanced at him before looking back at the sky.

"Okay." He whispered under his breath. He sighed and narrowed his eyes at Harry. "Are you mad at me?"

"No." Harry bit his tongue. Never mad at you. Not you.

Louis shook his head and brushed the crumbs off his jeans, "Okay. Sorry."

"Don't say sorry." Harry blurted, "It's not your fault."

"What isn't?"

Fuck. Louis caught him with that one.

"That I'm..." Harry huffed, "That I'm pissed. It's my fault. I'm being stupid."

Louis leaned forward, scrunching up the plastic wrap the sandwiches were in and looking at Harry intensely. "Tell me." He said. Harry felt like a fly caught in a web. Then Louis put his hand on Harry's knee and Harry's whole body was on fire. "Hey," Harry stared at him, "Sad together? Remember?"

As if Harry could ever forget anything Louis ever said to him. 

"I just..." He sighed, "I feel alone. Sometimes. And I know you have other friends but I don't and it's fine that you have other friends but it's hard for me to make them and I just get lonely. A lot."