twenty

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Me and Harry are sitting at some old diner in the middle of the night. It's Friday, so we've got thee weekend off. We've always been into this shit, just going to random places at random times to talk. Neither of us could stomach much right now, so we decided to share some chips and a milkshake. He yells at me when I dip the fries in the shake, complaining about how salty it makes the milkshake, but I do it, anyways.

"So what did she say after that?" I ask, chuckling as he tells me about the girl who was flirting with her, and he told her he wasn't attracted to her.

"She just like, majorly blushed," he says, holding a chip near his mouth. "Then, she whipped me with her extensions and told me she hardly found me attractive, either."

"But she's the one who was trying to like, seduce you," I laugh. I used to get a bit upset when girls would his on Harry, sure, but it doesn't bother me much anymore after seeing him turn down one after the other. He still gets jealous of me getting hit on, and it's more guys than girls on my side, but I've made it very clear that we're a couple in public and he seems to be happy with that.

"I know," he shakes his head. "Some people are just a bit too confident."

"Oh my gosh, look," I say, pointing to the mini telly that's set up on the counter across from our table. It shows the news; a kid who went insane during class and had to get taken out forcefully by the hospital. He'd been making threats to several kids, and he got admitted into a hospital a month later.

"Shit, that's the next town over," he mutters, taking another sip of the milkshake. "What a loon."

"It's not like it was his fault. He clearly should've been admitted a long time ago," I defend.

"Like anyone would try to get themselves stuck in one of those places."

"Well, what is there to lose when you're miserable in the real world," I reason.

"Any why are you such an expert?" he challenges me.

"I think that was the case with Anthony," I say, and his face softens as he looks at me, the tension suddenly grown. I've just gone and ruined the perfectly light-hearted conversation.

"I don't know if he'd have been happy anywhere," Harry finally says sadly.

"What do you mean?" I ask him.

"Some people were just fucked from the start. I don't think life is for everyone, unfortunately," he shrugs. It makes sense, I guess.

"Sorry, I just made this super dark," I chuckle bitterly.

"S'okay," he shrugs.

"I keep doing that," I continue. "I keep like, dragging down the mood."

"Hey, I told you. It's okay, I enjoy any talk with you," he says, placing a hand over mine reassuringly.

"You don't deserve to deal with it though," I argue. 

"Stop doing this, Louis," he sighs. "You're literally guilty because of a conversation topic. Does it suck to think about sometimes? Sure, but it's important to talk about deep shit sometimes. And like I said, I'm okay with it as long as I'm with you."

"Could be different," I mutter.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asks me.

"I don't know, I guess if I would've happened to get shot that day," I start.

"Lou..." Harry warns.

"You wouldn't have to deal with this mess," I finish.

"Damn it, Louis! Will you stop that shit?" he says angrily, slamming the chip back into the basket.

"What? I'm just saying..." I yell.

"I know exactly what you're saying, and I fucking hate it! Stop feeling guilty, you went through something traumatic and survived it! That's heavy shit that you live with fucking every day! If you think that's gonna make me stop loving you, you're full of shit!"

"I'm sorry I want you to be happy!" I say angrily. "I know you'll always love me, you're too good not to! But I fucking hate that the cost of that love is all my baggage that you didn't sign up for in the beginning of our relationship. You're too good to leave me, and if I were shot, you wouldn't have to! It's just a thought, I didn't actually say it literally!"

"Whatever," he sighs in defeat. "Stop thinking like that, Louis. I wouldn't want it any other way right now, I'm all in. I'm right with you, through it all."

"I know," I say quickly. "And I appreciate it, I just feel bad."

"Please don't, Lou. Please," he says desperately.

"Okay," I nod, just above a whisper. And after that, the topic is dropped, but in the back of my head I'm still thinking about it, and I know he is, too.

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