Here comes the sun - Larry

CHAPTER 18

It's been two weeks. I haven't spoken much to anyone, not really. I've pushed Liam and Niall away more than I should have, but I know they'll be there when I need them. I haven't been able to look Emily in the eyes, nor Harry, for that matter. I feel guilty for breaking Emily's heart and guilty for blaming everything on Harry when it wasn't really his fault. Noah was right when he told me I would've figured it out eventually, that Harry simply pushed me in the direction of realising it sooner.

I've been spending a lot of time working through mine and Emily's breakup. It's a relief to not be her boyfriend anymore, but I've still needed to fall apart. And I've been spending just as much time thinking about Harry. I feel bad for not tutoring him when I know he needs it, but I don't know how to spend time with him, not without saying something I'll inevitably regret. I don't know what to tell him because I still don't know where I stand. I still don't know what I want from him.

I break the silence during first period Monday morning. Harry has been giving me time and space to heal, time to process everything that happened when we were away—everything from snapping a pencil in half out of jealousy to breaking up with Emily. He's been on his best behaviour by not forcing me into a conversation. I'm still nervous about using my words, though, so I write them down on a post-it note instead: I'm sorry about everything that happened. I know it's not your fault.

He looks at the note for a few seconds too long, then picks up his pen to write back. He turns around to hand it to me, still refusing to meet my eyes. I take it from him, immediately reading his words: I know you've been having a hard time, but you didn't have to push me away. I've been trying to give you time, but it's okay if you don't want to see me anymore.

I take a new note: I still want to see you.

Really?

Yes. And if you want to, I'm ready to tutor you again.

I would like that.

Tomorrow?

It's a date.

I slip the note into my pocket, smiling to myself at the process. I'm looking forward to spending time with him again, but it also makes me nervous. I know he's not going to do anything, that he's waiting for me to make the first move—if he's waiting at all, that is, because he might not be expecting anything. I don't know if I'll make it, though. And if I do decide to take the risk, I don't how much of a risk I'm willing to take. I don't know if I'll hold his hand or kiss him or ask him to suck me off—it really just depends, I think.

The happiness doesn't linger for long, though, because as soon as class is over, Emily slips a note onto Harry's table. He looks up at her, but she keeps walking, so he picks up the note to read it. He's turned in his seat now, so I notice the way his expression falls when he takes in Emily's words. He slips it into his pocket when he's done, but I'm not having it.

"Harry," I say, grabbing his wrist when he stands up to leave, "what did she write?"

"Nothing."

"Harry—"

"It doesn't matter, Louis."

He pulls his wrist out of my hold before he turns around to leave. I leave, too, but only to catch up with Emily. I won't accept this behaviour, this sudden need of hers to make Harry upset just because she's hurt.

I grab her elbow, turning her around so she's facing me. "What exactly do you think you're doing?"

"I'm not doing anything."

"He's clearly upset, Emily, so what did you write in that note?"

"I suggest you ask him instead," she hisses, pulling her elbow out of my hold. "I mean, after all, he's your boyfriend now, isn't he?"