If You Only Knew

Chapter 21

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. My heart feels heavy, a mixture of lingering hurt and a deep yearning for understanding. Louis's gaze is full of regret, the weight of our earlier conversation still hanging in the air between us. Jay, with her calming presence, smiles warmly at him and gestures to the counter, the motion inviting him in. "Come on in, Lou," she says, her voice gentle and welcoming, as if her kitchen is a sanctuary where all misunderstandings can be soothed. "We've been making cookies, and Harry's definitely not as good as he thinks he is at baking."

Her teasing lightens the mood for a moment, but I can see the tension still tight in Louis's posture. He takes a tentative step forward, then hesitates, his voice low but earnest. "Can we talk?" he asks, his eyes searching mine, seeking a way to bridge the distance we've built.

I swallow hard, nodding as my throat feels tight. "Um... y-yeah. O-okay," I stammer, turning to Jay for reassurance. "Do you mind finishing without me?" I ask, a soft uncertainty in my voice, not wanting to leave her in the middle of our baking, but knowing I need to clear the air with Louis.

Jay's expression softens with understanding, and she waves her hand dismissively as she sets the dough on the counter. "Of course, love. Go on. Thank you for helping me," she says, her tone warm and maternal.

I walk over to her, pulling her into a hug, the comfort of her embrace a balm for my aching heart. I whisper softly into her ear, "Thank you for listening to me."

Jay squeezes me tighter, her voice gentle but firm. "Of course, sweetie. Go talk to him. Figure out what's going on, okay?" Her words are like a quiet promise that things will be okay, a reminder that I'm not alone in this.

I pull back, offering her a small smile, then turn to Louis. His eyes meet mine, full of both apology and something deeper—a vulnerability that makes my chest tighten. We step away from the warmth of the kitchen, the air outside cool and crisp, a sharp contrast to the warmth inside. As we bundle ourselves in coats, beanies, and mittens, I can't shake the feeling that this conversation is more important than anything else right now.

We walk in silence at first, the crunch of our boots in the snow the only sound that fills the air. My heart pounds in my chest, the weight of unspoken words pressing heavily between us. I glance at Louis out of the corner of my eye, but he's staring ahead, his breath coming out in steady puffs, the cold air making his cheeks flush.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Louis speaks, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm sorry, H," he begins, his words hesitant but genuine. "I didn't mean to get upset with you."

I pause, feeling the familiar knot in my stomach twist. "Why were you upset, Louis? I don't understand what I did," I ask, my voice quieter now, filled with confusion.

Louis exhales a shaky breath, his words tumbling out in a rush, as if he's been carrying them for too long. "You didn't do anything, Harry. I wasn't even mad at you," he admits, his gaze dropping to the ground for a moment before meeting my eyes again, raw and open. "I was mad at myself. You make it to every fucking one of my footie games, and I can't even make it to your opening night. I feel like a fucking shitty boyfriend for that. Sometimes, I think that there will come a day where I fail you... and just let you down. I don't want to be that person, Hazza. I can't be that person. It would destroy me."

His words hit me harder than I expected, the vulnerability in his voice making my chest ache. My heart swells with a mix of love and empathy, and I feel the need to reach out, to reassure him, to make him understand that he is never a disappointment to me. I reach for his hand, feeling the warmth of his skin as I interlock our fingers. The contact grounds me, reminding me that we're in this together.