Remind Me To Forget (L.S.) ✔️

Chapter 26

Mondays were the worst days of the week, especially when everything went wrong before 8 am. After the hellish weekend of anxiety and unstoppable circles of self-hate, Harry wasn't expecting anything great, however, a small spark of hope gave him just enough energy to keep going.
He actually managed to wake up in time, his hair looked absolutely great, he found his favourite rings and there wasn't any trouble with the coffee machine in the hall of the dorm, so he really felt like it should be a good day finally.

...It wasn't.

In fact, november just proved Ellie's statement about all of them going down on a hill to the forest of nightmares.

Harry entered the main building and got a few judging looks immediately, but nothing more. He didn't feel bad about it, the locks and the style of his clothes sometimes brought attention to him.
He pulled out his phone to check which room he had to go for the Graphic Design class, while he also passed by the exhibition in the hallway. He took a quick glance at the works, then turned back to the screen, because he forgot the number of the classroom right after he looked at it. Which was it again? 345 or 354...?

...Hold on.

Harry stopped in the middle of the corridor, as his mind processed what he's seen seconds after he witnessed it. His heart almost jumped out of his chest and the young boy was still hoping it was just a mean trick his brain played on him. He must have seen that face everywhere now, it couldn't be there.
...But as Harry slowly stepped back and stopped in front of the exhibition, the smothery feeling became stronger.

The painting he made weeks ago, the one that he destroyed while listening to The Night We Met, then fixed again after they made it up was right in front of him. Between a painting about a bunch of fruits and a pretty impressive landscape, the features of Louis Tomlinson blossomed out of a colorful mess and for the first time ever in his life he couldn't stand that he was a quite great artist. Everyone who knew Louis could recognise him, it wasn't even a question.

Goddamnit.
At least it wasn't a whole ass sculpture or something.

His grip on his bag got so strong, the skin on his knuckles turned to white. It had to be a sick joke, an attempt of someone trying to make him look like a fool. He couldn't decide whether he was angry, frustrated, or just near to passing out in front of everyone.
Before he could of found out, Ellie's lightheaded voice saved him.

"Good morning Ha- LORD HELP US, WHAT IS THIS?" her eyes widened and she had to blink a few times to check if that was actually what she thought it was and not just the effects of being sleep-deprived. "Didn't you say you didn't turn in any of your paintings?!"

"It wasn't me," Harry whispered still in some kind of shock. "...I can't breathe."

It was true, the nasty hands of panic nudged him, as the thought of no escape got intensified. This wasn't a small thing they could fix; his whole name was visible under the painting and the members of the football team didn't have to be clever to put it together. He attended to practices, ran to Louis when he got hurt, visited him before the match and the team mates were no longer the listeners of Louis' stories about Hailey. Ever since Harry appeared, things became suspicious and now a disastrously accurate proof of their love was on display.

"No no no, please listen to me, it's fine," Ellie stepped in front of him and put both hands on his shoulders to force his attention on herself. "We can come up with some great excuse, this is not the end, okay?"

Her voice was kind of stifled, because she didn't want anyone to hear their conversation, but the determined energy her presence gave off still had a curing effect on Harry. He really tried to end the panic attack, before it could started for real, so all he could do was focusing on one of the best friends he could of ever asked for.