The night before school started again was when the anxiety really came back. Harry wanted to get back to school because he missed football, and the presence of his parents was at times overwhelmingly stressful, but as he lay in bed the night before actually going back, he found himself restlessly considering it. While football training awaited, he wasn't ready to return to worrying about Jasmine. She still gnawed at him. Her threats had scarred him, whether or not she was actually going to do something about it after all this time. The night was dragging on, and Harry couldn't sleep. He'd gone to bed at eleven, and yet by one o'clock, he was still staring at the dark ceiling above him. He resented it. He hated the feeling of drowning on dry land.
Naturally, he came to mind. He wanted to call him. He wanted to run away and hide in Louis' room, just like he had so many times before. This time, though, he remembered Louis' answer on New Year's Eve. He recalled his whispered "yeah". He had felt his understanding, and Louis had kissed him in a manner that suggested he was there to comfort him. Harry truly needed that aid, but perhaps he was too clingy, too sad, and too emotional. Maybe he was too annoying? He hesitated to call him. What if he said no?
Eventually, the ache in his chest became too much, and he picked up his phone.
"What?" came a sleep-broken voice after seven rings.
"Can I come over?" whispered Harry. "Please."
The phone was silent for a few seconds. Then, a short "Fine." There was a click and suddenly the call was over. It took Harry a moment to realise that Louis had said yes, and he was now free to go. He could go over to Louis'. He could actually run away.
He had never been so quick to dress. He got up, pulled some training joggers on along with a hoodie, and then draped his winter jacket over it. He crept down the hallway, silently making his way downstairs and into the hallway. His parents were sleeping, and he didn't want to wake them up. He grabbed his keys downstairs and then briskly closed the front door behind him. He omitted the Rover, scared his parents would freak out if they noticed it was gone, or that the noise of the engine would wake them up.
It took seven minutes to jog the distance. The street lamps were the only refuge in the eerie darkness, and the wind blew cold, but none of that mattered. The destination conquered the journey by a landslide. The house was dark once he got there, and he fiercely hoped Louis hadn't fallen back asleep again. Outside, he texted that he'd arrived and waited impatiently on the porch. The door slid open slowly, a minute or so later.
"Hi." Louis' voice was hoarse. His hair was a mad haystack.
"Hey."
His eyes were barely open and there was a sleep-drunken frown on his face. "Why are you up at one AM? It's school tomorrow."
"Couldn't sleep."
Louis moved from the threshold and Harry followed him inside. In the hallway, he slipped out of his shoes and picked them up, just like he had done before. It was different this time, though. Louis had kissed him on New Year's and now allowed him to walk into his house in the middle of the night. Harry watched Louis, wondering whether he was aware of the same difference. The boy was in pyjama bottoms, and a dark, long-sleeved shirt. He looked soft.
They walked up to Louis' room in silence, jumping over the creaky step. Once there, Louis closed the door and promptly slipped into the bed, his back turned. Harry put his belongings down, his jacket and shoes lightly landing on the floor. He hadn't exactly expected them to have sex — hadn't prepared for it — but he didn't quite know what to do when Louis wordlessly curled up under the duvet. He slowly tugged off his trousers and shirt, and carefully walked around the bed. He slid in underneath the cover, feeling Louis' scent and his comforting sheets wrap around him pleasantly. His head hit the pillow only inches from Louis' face. His eyelashes looked very long, and his hair poked out in all directions, like a small hedgehog. Harry felt his bones sink into the mattress with relief.
