Harry can't recall when he first fell in love with Louis Tomlinson. Maybe when he was six and watched an older boy with brown hair and scraped knees kicking a ball around the street. Maybe when Louis asked him to join and didn't make fun of him when it turned out that Harry was actually atrocious at football. Maybe later, when they both entered their teens and Louis told him about his first crush, leaving Harry feeling gutted. Honestly, he wasn't able to pinpoint one certain situation or day. It just kinda happened over the nine years they've been best friends.
However, Harry remembers clearly when he first realized that he'd fallen for Louis. They sneaked out of a big start-of-the-summer party hosted by his parents. Louis had stolen a bottle of wine, and the boys were hiding out in Harry's room. Louis looked amazing then, staring out of the window.
"Look at the stars Haz. They're so, so beautiful, don't you think? It is kind of sad though, being so alone. So much distance in between you and the next of your kind."
Harry just listened, mesmerized. Louis had always enjoyed talking about stars, a quite different interest for the boy who loved football and video games.
"Do you see that star up there? The one that shines so brightly? That is our star, Harry, shining only for you and me."
"I want to kiss you." The younger boy immediately blushed red, covering his face with both hands, embarrassed by the words that had slipped out of his mouth.
But when Louis just smirked and leaned over, tugging Harry's hands away and pressing their lips together, Harry was sure that he loved Louis. Loved-loved him.
It felt like a shooting star. Harry'd never seen one before, but he was sure kissing Louis felt like that.
They didn't talk any more that night. Harry had curled up in Louis' arms, a few moments later they both drifted off to sleep.
Louis was gone the next morning, his spot next to Harry empty and cold. When Harry ran down the stairs to ask his mum if Louis' family was still here, because he knew the Tomlinsons would leave for the summer that day, Anne denied it.
Louis had left without saying goodbye.
Over the next few days, Harry sent him countless texts, the heavy disappointed feeling in his stomach becoming bigger with every one that was left unanswered. After eight days he gave up.
It's been a bit over three weeks now. It is late in the evening and Harry has just shut down his laptop, turning off the lights.
He lays in his bed, completely still, eyes wide open. The faint moonlight is flooding the room. He always leaves the curtains open, ever since he and Louis started gazing at the stars together. They made up stories about them, named them.
"Have you ever seen a shooting star, Hazza?"
"No."
"Me neither."
Harry looks at their star, can't help but think that it is less bright, just like it feels that his connection with Louis is slowly but surely fading. It used to remind him of the way Louis' eyes shine when he's happy. Now it only reminds him of heartbreak.
The silence is almost unbearable, weighing down on Harry's chest.
"What's wrong?" his mum asked earlier today, probably wondering why her son was never really smiling anymore. He just shrugged.
A soft 'pling' comes from the window. Harry shoots out of bed immediately. It takes him mere seconds to get to the window, and just as he's pushing it open, a tiny pebble hits his forehead. He swears under his breath, rubbing his hand over where the missile made its impact.
