From the Wrong Side of Town l.s.

Chapter 8: Harry

 "Boys," Jay called, knocking on the door. It had been precisely four days and I'd gotten a spam of texts and calls from my parents, but I'd made no attempt to reach out and tell them I was okay. "Anne's here," she said. After the first two days, she'd stopped opening the door without knocking. You only walk in on two very hormonal teenage boys a few times before you learn to knock.

Louis, disconnecting his lips from mine, lazily rolled off of his (now larger) bed, cheekily eyeing me from where he was standing in the middle of the room.

"Might want to fix your shirt a bit before you come down," he tells me, disappearing into the hallways, closing the door behind me. And looking in the mirror leading into the adjacent bathroom, he was very true to his word. The flannel's sleeves had been unrolled, leaving them longer than those of Louis' tee I'd stolen that morning. And even more of concern, my hair was going every way, the bandanna having barely been kept in place. My jeans were the only thing that escaped the attack unscathed.

Running a hand under the warm water from the sink, I tried my best to tame the curls it seemed Louis had made his job to mess up in a way he possibly could. Once they were at least semi-tamed, I pulled the bandanna over them, pulling them from my eyes. The shirt would take a little more work, having to refold the material. I straightened out the tee before folding up the short sleeve of the flannel until it didn't look as if I'd just been snogging my boyfriend for the better half of two hours.

"Sunshine, there you are," Bubby exclaimed when I finally made my way down the stairs.

"Why have I never thought of using that nickname for you," Louis asks, scooting over so there was room for me to sit between him and Bubby. Bubby looks over at him mouthing 'do it' to him and then acting as if she hadn't just encouraged him.

"I'm choosing to ignore that entire exchange," I say plopping down in between them. "And if you start calling me that, you know I will get your mum to tell me one of your childhood nicknames which you've told her never to tell me," I threaten.

"Louis, darling, I would tell Haz," Jay admits, smiling lovingly towards her eldest son.

"Sunshine, I need to steal you away from your beloved boy so we can get you some clothes that are actually yours," she says, eyeing the tee that we all knew was Louis'. I nod, but Louis doesn't seem so keen on the thought of me disappearing for a few hours.

"I refuse to let my little sunshine leave," Louis shouts, wrapping his arms around my waist and settling his head against my hip.

"Lou-Lou, you'll be fine," I tell him, chuckling at his escapades. He scowled at me, clearly unhappy at the thought.

"Louis, I will bring him back as soon as I can so you can go back to kissing him and then making him have to take some time to make it seem as if the two of you hadn't just been snogging," Bubby replies. I was sure my face was turning a crimson red at her words, but they seemed to please Louis.

"Sunshine, you're blushing," he tells me, sitting up from his position. "It's incredibly cute, love, but that makes it exceedingly obvious that that is exactly what we were doing," Louis points out.

"Leave me alone," I whine, cuddling into Louis' shoulder.

Half an hour later, Bubby had gotten me out of the house (without Louis attached to me). The last part had been quite a difficult task, but when Louis' mum threatened to tell me his nickname, he immediately let go, walking over to the couch and settling down.

"Remind what you need," Bubby asked, pulling up to our town's mall.

"Basically everything," I say laughing at the incredibly long list I had written out. Jay had added some things she knew I would need and failed to put on the list. The list was ranging from everyday items like shirts and pants to more formal occasions items like a nicer jacket. She had also told Bubby to get several bandannas so I could stop stealing them from her washroom cupboard. "I also wanted to look at a few rings if that's alright," I ask.

"Of course, dear. Your birthday is coming up in a few weeks, after all," she says with a smile on her face.

"You remembered," I quietly asked. Very few people in my life had actually remembered when it was my birthday, my parents not being one of them. My sister, Gemma, had always remembered and usually came down and told me she had wanted to get me something I would actually like, but wasn't sure what size of anything I wore and would take me shopping. It had always been like that, even when we were little. Gemma would ask our parents if they could go to the store and get me something I would like.

"Of course, darling. How could I forget," she asks. Her face shows a story she wasn't telling. A story that sooner or later would come out. And when it did, everything in my life came crashing to a halt, spun upside down and put right where it should have been from the start. 

A/N rose & dagger or ship & compass?