Do You Realize? |l.s.|

XXVII

"Hey kid, mail's here," Zayn points to the table in the entry. "You have a letter."

"What? From who?" I ask, Zayn shrugging as I walk over towards it and pick it up. I see that it is from the foster care system, and my heart sinks. "Shit," I mutter to myself.

"What? Whose it from?" Zayn asks as he motions for me to sit by him. I stare at it for a bit before sitting beside him on the couch, and show him who it's from. "Shit," he repeats in the same tone as when I said it. I open it slowly, afraid to read it and Zayn let's me read it first, more watching for my reaction than anything.

Dear Louis,

   Your father, Troy Austin, has had exemplary behavior during his time at the prison and we are proud to announce that in 32 days, your father will be released on March 19th. Your father will pick you up and you will be removed from your foster care family, and your father will regain his parental rights over you. We are so glad to inform you that soon, you will be back at home with your father. Congratulations! 

                                                        Sincerely, the Doncaster Foster Home.

I just stare at it with wide eyes, handing it to Zayn as I bury my face in my hands to his the worry shown on my face. He mutters every word on the letter to himself, stopping once he's read half of it and putting a hand over his mouth, looking away from me and at a loss for words. It's silent for a bit before Zayn stands up, pacing back in forth in anger. 

"What the fuck!"  he yells. "They can't fucking do that! Good behavior? Are they serious?"

"Zee," I try.

"How can they sit there and congratulate you for going back with him? They're sick, that's what they are!"

"Zee, this isn't a surprise. We both knew this was gonna be temporary," I say, defeated without even trying to do anything about it.

"I won't let him take you back," he says angrily. "I won't," he finishes, his voice cracking.

"It's out of our hands," I shrug, standing up and making my way towards the stairs.

"Where are you going?" he asks me.

"I think I'm gonna go to bed for the night," I say quietly, and he gives me a sympathetic smile before nodding. "Night Zee."

"Night kiddo," he says. I can't force myself to sleep the entire night, worrying and worrying about what life is gonna be like back with my dad.

I mean, I won't even get to walk to and from school with Harry anymore. I won't see the boys ever. Hell, dad will probably be angrier than before, since I'm the one who put him there in the first place.

I also don't want the boys to go all sympathetic on me, like they're walking on eggshells. I just want to spend my last decent month of my life here with them as if I'm not going to be sent away with my prisoner of a father at the end of it. 

A few days pass and mum and dad arrive home from their trip. They have another one that'll be shorter in two weeks, but it isn't like it'll matter to me by the time they get back. They were sad to see the letter, but they accepted it as it was the same way I did. All I can say is that Zayn ended up screaming about it and slamming himself in his room the rest of the night after that. The boys are coming over today after school, so I'm looking forward to having that awkward chat with them. I told Zee I'd tell Harry on our walk to school, though, just because I feel like it'll be more personal when I tell him.

I get downstairs and none of the boys know anything is actually wrong, though they can already probably sense it with how me and Zayn don't seem to fight but we actually hug our goodbyes. Harry eyes me oddly the entire way down the walkway before I question it.

"What?" I ask.

"Everything alright with you and Zayn?"

"That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about," I sigh. "We, uh, we got a letter from the foster system."

"What?" he asks, his voice shrinking slightly as he looks at me with sad and confused eyes.

"I'm going back with my dad in a month."

"Oh."

"Listen, I know that you and the boys don't really know why he's in prison so naturally, you can assume the worst. I just want you to know, I'll be fine on my own."

"Will we ever get to see each other after that?" he asks me.

"Of course we will," I smile reassuringly. "Maybe not so much, but I'll always make time for you."

"Good," he says, slinging and arm around my shoulder and pulling me closer to him as we continue walking, changing the subject quickly.