A Rainy Tuesday || larry

Four.

"Why do you sign everything with an 'W'?" Harry asks one night. It's misty out and his hood covers his curly hair. Louis is out painting under the bridge and his painting this time is just a little girl in a torn dress with the caption; "who stole your happiness?". Harry thought of innocence himself when he saw it, but art is different to everyone.

"My middle name," Louis tells him lightly. The boy is quieter tonight and Harry doesn't know why. The area under the bridge is dry, but the cold wet air reminds the boys of the rain that's sure to fall soon.

Harry doesn't know what to say tonight really. He can feel the sadness weighing Louis down and he wants to lift it from his small shoulders, but he can't because he can't even remove his own. He watches as the boy creates perfect strokes and he looks so sure about every move that he makes. Harry notices he's like that. Even in soccer Louis always looks like he knows exactly what he's doing.

"Your game is coming up," Harry tries to make conversation, but the words make Louis stiffen and frown. His face appears to be in pain at the casual reminder.

"Yeah," Louis says in a forced happy tone. His eyes have darkened and appear stormy and sad. It breaks Harrys heart to see him look so sad at something that should bring him joy. Louis always seemed like the happiest player at the pep rally's and everything else, so Harry really doesn't know why he'd be so sad now.

It hits him as he looks at the small painting that Jeff Hazel played on the team. Jeff Hazel was a good friend of Louis' and he's gone. Louis will never play with him again and that must be painful to even think about. His heart sinks further in his chest as he realizes how hard that must be. How heartbreaking and cruel it must be to play with one of your teammates missing like nothing's changed.

He's startled from his thoughts at the loud clap of thunder and he turns to look at the water. The rain is falling at a fast pace and Harry grimaces when he remembers he needs to walk home in that. Louis is watching him quietly.

"Why are you shaking?" He asks softly. He never really talks loud when he's out in the open night air. The atmosphere just has a quiet aura about it.

"Don't like storms. Reminds me of that day," Harry tells him just as soft. Louis looks down at his paint spattered hands and nods.

"Yeah. I never like storms much before that, but that definitely made it worse. Nothing good comes with the rain," Louis explains. Harry just looks examines his tired face and he finds it adorable how ha cheek as red paint smudged on it.

"Flowers do. And rainbows," Harry says. "Sometimes beautiful things come after the rain. You just have to wait for them."

"You're very deep, Harry Styles," Louis says in a teasing tone and Harry can't help but smile at the short boy.

"I try. So what is your middle name?" Harry eventually brings the conversation back to his first question.

"William. Louis William Tomlinson," Louis says all proper and Harry can't help but smile and laugh again.

"Nice ring to it. Sounds very posh," Harry replies and Louis sits up straight and gives him a sour look.

"I am very posh."

"Oh yes, because painting under bridges is so posh," Harry replies and Louis shrugs and goes back down to slouching. His lips are turned up in an easy smile and his eyes have a spark of hope in them.

"Can I ask you a question?" Louis asks and Harry nods his head. "Do you forgive him? Like fully?"

Harry stops and thinks about it. Does he forgive him? He took innocent people's lives and played Harry for a fool. It was all a sick game to him Harry thinks and yet he does forgive him. He really does.

"Yeah I do," Harry tells Louis honestly and Louis' face scrunches up in confusion.

"Why? He broke you. He built you up and then made you crumble," Louis explains in an angry tone. Harry wishes he could feel that anger, but he just doesn't. Anger is so hard to keep up with.

"I forgive him because sometimes you need someone to tear you down to make you realize you can get up again. I needed that. To realize I'm strong enough on my own," Harry tries to explain.

"Are you though? Strong enough?" Louis questions and Harry bites his lip and twiddled his thumbs.

"I'm getting there. By the end I'll be the strongest I can be," Harry says hopefully. Louis is watching him with wonderment and Harry thinks he likes that look on Louis.

"What if you don't make it to the end?" Louis whispers and his voice cracks. Harry moves forward and pulls the boy into his arms. This boy he's "known" for years and has never actually gotten to know. This broken soul.

"We'll make it together. We can help each other. That's what friends are for," Harry whispers as he rubs Louis' back. Louis is like a kitten in his lap and he nods his head hopefully.

"Alright. I like that. Can you come to my game on Friday? It's going to be hard on me," Louis admits and Harry feels himself softening even more. He's been broken lately and he's actually loving playing the part of the protector. He's tired of being the protected.

"Of course I'll come. I'm sure it'll be hard without Je-" Louis slaps his hand over Harrys mouth and looks at him with such depressed eyes it shocks him.

"Don't say his name. It's real if you say it," Louis begs and Harry realizes in that moment that he's not the most broken from the event. Not in the slightest.