currents//larry stylinson

2: the moment

"Harry, we have quite a drive, we're going to be late." Anne told him, snapping his attention away from the window. 

"Yeah, sorry, let me just grab my coat." Harry dismissively stood, and Anne left his doorway. He sighed and dropped the journal into his backpack. The black dress coat hung on the side of his wardrobe, and he shrugged it over his broad shoulders, looking at himself in the mirror. 

"Mirrors are never to be trusted." He mumbled, fixing his hair, and leaving behind his reflection. He jumped down the stairs two at a time before meeting mum in the kitchen.

"Ready?" Anne asked, a bouquet of daffodils in one arm, and a single, seemingly black, tear running down her cheek. 

"Yeah." Harry nodded, and Anne started towards the door. She started the car and Harry got in the passenger side. There was an agreed silence in the car, so Harry wordlessly pulled out the leather journal once again. 

So anyways, those summers were so special to me, and I hoped he would say the same. But I think now if I asked him, he would simply ignore me. Isn't it sad how fast the night can change? One second, we're happy, one second, we're panicking. I hate it, for me and for him. 

That one August where I discovered I had feelings for him was probably the hardest for me. I think it was 2015, something like that. That was the moment I knew I was doomed, I spent every second with this boy, but he was changing and so was I. Mum still doesn't know about this, she just thinks I lost a friend. Very close friend. He was much more than that. Isn't funny that I'm writing this while sitting right next to her? She has no idea what has happened to me, what I've been through, and I think she could say the same. 

There was a point that summer where I thought I liked boys in general but no, it was just Louis. I didn't understand that sexuality didn't have to be defined. I tried kissing boys, I still do sometimes, but it never was Louis. I remember so distinctly all those times we'd hinted to each other about our feelings, but it was too late to catch on.

August 7th, 2015

"I wonder how many drinks they've had." 

"Mum's definitely had at least 3 martinis by now." Harry giggled, the stolen wine cooler beginning to make his head a bit fuzzy. 

"I wonder how many drinks we've had by now." Louis laughed, and Harry's heart skipped at the sound. This boy, so tan and effortlessly beautiful, was his. Maybe not like, dating wise, but Louis was his person. His person.

"Have you ever heard of split-aparts?" Harry asked, once again averting his gaze to the summer sky. 

"No, what's that?" Louis asked with one foot folded under him, the other dug into the warm sand. 

"Plato. He had this idea where two humans were a part of one soul, and people would spend their lives searching for the other half over their soul. Their split-apart." Harry sighed, taking a sip of the cooler that was now warmed from the heat. 

"That's beautiful." Louis looked at him with a gaze of admiration. "Do you think we'll ever find ours?" 

"I hope so. Part of me likes to think I already have." Harry said, his ability to control the thought to word ratio completely out the window.

"Oh yeah, who's the lucky girl?" Louis gave him a goofy smile and poked his bare stomach. Harry's eyebrows furrowed. 

"I don't know." He took another sip of his cooler. Louis looked at him with a confused expression. "So you mean, you just like the idea that maybe you've already met the person?"

"I guess." Harry answered, mood deflated. 

"Oh come on Harry, I know you wanted to say more." Louis joked, trying to pry an answer out of him. Harry stayed quiet, and he knew Louis understood the meaning of that silence. He was just thinking, comprehending, searching for the right answer.