I think I really really really do

Think about pretty boys

Louis wakes up restless in the quiet that doesn't seem pleasant. He still feels the cold from the previous day and he's still bone tired from crying. He also feels rackingly empty inside.

Happy sweet fucking sixteen.

He pulls the comforter off and pushes all of his limbs out of the bed. He could stay in bed all day for all that matters. He's gonna fool around all day and everything will feel worse with every hour, he knows it for sure. But he wants to add to his misery so he gets up, puts on his worst clothes and moves to the common room to find some supplies of food their House always hides for a rainy day. He doesn't feel like going to the dining room today. He feels hurt.

It's his birthday and as it is, it's his worst one ever, so he's going to do whatever the fuck he wants. Starting with blaming everyone for everything.

He blames the professors for not protecting him from the bullies. Where are those brave fucking heroes that were supposed to be there for the students? Shouldn't it be even easier now to take care of those few left when there's not this much of them? Some of them were even around when the Wizarding War happened. Shouldn't they be even more aware of the evil?

The headmaster he blames for trapping him there in the first place. The old cow made him stay even though she knew he loves celebrating his birthday and Christmas with his family. She could've easily postponed his detention for after the Holiday break so he could go home like every other fucking student. He would go and nothing that happened would take place. Everyone happy, case closed. But of course no, let's make this little sixteen-year-old miserable!

He blames his mother for ordering him to stay. If his mother said no, the headmaster would have to oblige. So she is responsible for his misery too. He won't even read her birthday card today.

He blames the Gryffindors for the attack. He woke up in the middle of the night in cold sweat, remembering his first real fight ever. He's strong and he's skilful. He was fine. But that doesn't mean the whole incident didn't terrify him.

He wants to blame the whole house of Gryffindor for being a brooder of scums but then he remembers the handsome beefy prefect lad that looks so sexy in the formally buckled shirt and the perfectly tied tie, that Liam Payne lad, and he just can't bring himself to do so.

But he can definitely blame Harry. As soon as his mind slips on the memory of the boy, he groans out loud. Harry is responsible for his birthday misery. He left him. Abandoned him on this important day. Casted away right after saying those cruel things.

Louis decides not to think about him.

Instead, he chooses to think about pretty boys. Yes, it's his sweet sixteen and teens his age think about pretty boys. He will do that now.

He thinks one more time about the Gryffindor prefect and his big big arms. Then he thinks about his buddy Zayn, how he looks like a juvenile god in a dim green light of the Slytherin common room, even if navy blue is his true colour. About his dark eyes full of wisdom and sensitivity. He also thinks about a certain boy that he met back home when he was visiting on vacations. This muggle guy, only a little higher than him but a year older, with amazing long hair always gathered in a bun. His first kiss ever.

But each time he thinks about someone's arms, he sees Harry's arms pulling him closer in a Hogsmeade pub. Each time he thinks about someone's gaze, none can compare to those green trustful eyes. When he thinks of someone's hair, his fingers feel the imaginary texture of those thick long curls.

He yells and puts on a jacket. He must go.

Doesn't know where to but he just has to.

His legs are leading the way and soon enough he finds himself at a restaurant at Hogsmeade. He thinks he's only been here once but he remembers that they offer breakfasts.

He orders a traditional dish and leans on the backrest to close his eyes for a minute and calm himself. He feels left out, he feels the tragedy and misery. Sixteen is very close to eighteen so maybe it's his first adult lesson – you're always fucking alone and everyone will fucking betray you. He nods to himself like a crazy person and he eats his food when it's given to him.

*

Back at the castle he cries.

He cries when he walks through the hallways. He cries when he strips out of his jacket. He cries when he buries himself in bed. He's so unbearably sad that he doesn't even think about anything to do today. He consciously ignores his detention meeting, the headmaster can go fuck herself. Louis will stay here where he is even if that means staring at the ceiling the whole day.

That's basically what he does. He reads a book, sorts his clothes and beats his room walls all day until he finally notices that it's already afternoon. He's not even hungry or thirsty. It's a weird sensation because he simply adores his birthday and each year he's stuffed with a special cake until he can't eat no more. He drinks a non-alcoholic fruity champagne with his siblings and eats the finest of dinners with the whole family. It's usually so different than what he's stuck with now.

He sighs and pulls off his comforter again. Maybe going for a walk and getting some fresh air will help with brightening his mood.

He only has his tracksuit on along with some shoes and a jacket. It's not the warmest he could be but it will do. It's not like anything is of any importance. He starts to walk with his mind drowned in thoughts.

In all of his anger, sadness and disappointment at the world, he must admit that Harry was a little right too. More than a little, to be honest. Louis has to pull himself together. He can say it's the hormones and maybe that's even the truth but he will not be that person. He refuses. He's a warrior, a fighter. He'll fight for himself. He felt like shit when he poisoned those boys and he felt like shit when karma got to him for it. He's just a teenage boy and those Gryffs are that too. They shouldn't be fighting. Not like that. Not with actual potions and offense spells. Those are weapons meant for war and actual enemies.

Louis wants a peaceful life with small challenges he can meet with his knowledge and skill. He could graduate from a muggle university if he wanted. He could use all of this experience for building a calm future for himself. He could prepare elixirs for sick people or those wanting luck, or happiness or with some other needs and he could be admired for that. He doesn't have to show his power in a spectacular way, does he? After all, his biggest skill are potions. Not Defence Against the Dark Arts, not Spells and Duels. Potions. He's brilliant at that.

It's sort of a promise he makes to himself. He stands by the window, looks at the full moon hung high on the sky and thinks about his future. He'll be trying every day to be successful in the way that actually makes him feel nice. He'll stop with the pranks that don't do any good for anyone and instead he'll focus on creating actual bonds with people. Bonds that will make him feel loved and never lonely again. He'll study and listen to his professors. He'll be helping people instead of hurting them. He'll never hurt anyone ever again. Not because there are no villains out there, but because he never wants to feel the way he does now and never wants to be guilty for his own misery again. So he'll be trying. Not for other people, not for Harry. For himself.

Sweet sixteenth birthday. Maybe that's exactly what getting older should be about.

By the time he reaches the bench, their bench, he's exhausted. He's still sad even if he's filled with hope now. And he feels horribly alone. He's not even mad at anyone anymore. He could accept the hug even from the headmaster (well, that's a bold statement but maybe he would). Anything to feel wanted again. He just wants for this fucking day to be over and he wants Christmas break to be over too. He wants to meet his lads, hear them laugh and cuddle them as he welcomes them back.

All the nightmares at some point come to an end. Maybe if he closes his eyes, this day will just erase itself.

It's awfully dark and snowy and lonely and Louis Tomlinson falls asleep on a bench.