Lost L.S

III

Harry

Dream/flashback

9 years ago

(Eight-year-old Harry/Ten-year-old Louis)

The sun casts a warm glow over the park in our neighbourhood as I roam around, searching for something to occupy my time. With my sister busy at work today, I'm left to entertain myself. The playground that once stood here is now just a memory, dismantled and taken away.

Over at a nearby bench, I spot a boy around my age accompanied by two younger girls. He catches my eye with his colourful attire and friendly demeanour. Maybe he wouldn't mind some company. Gathering my courage, I approach him.

"Hi," I greet timidly, hoping he'll be open to my presence.

"Hey," he responds, his voice warm and inviting. "Can I join you? My parents are working today," I ask, hoping he'll say yes.

"Sure, I don't know what to do with these girls anyway. We just moved here," he admits. "Where do you live?" he inquires, suggesting we could walk past his house and then mine.

"That sounds like a plan," I agree, eager to explore the neighbourhood with my new acquaintance.

"What's your name?" I inquire, wanting to know more about him.

"I'm Louis, Louis Tomlinson. And you?" he replies with a friendly smile.

"I'm Harry, Harry Styles," I respond, feeling a bit bashful. We share a laugh at the similarity of our introductions.

"Your name is way cooler than mine. It sounds like you could be a famous musician or something. Mine's just boring," Louis remarks, making me blush at the unexpected compliment.

"Your name is cool too. 'Louis Tomlinson, future top model!' See? It has a nice ring to it," I tease, enjoying our playful banter.

"Who are these girls?" I ask, turning my attention to the younger siblings.

"I'm Lottie, I'm six," the older of the two girls announces proudly, holding up six fingers. I can't help but chuckle at her enthusiasm.

"I'm Fizzy, and I'm five!" the younger girl chirps, imitating her sister's gesture.

"I'm Harry, and I'm eight," I introduce myself, mimicking their hand signals. They giggle in response, finding my antics amusing.

"I feel left out," Louis pouts playfully, and I quickly reassure him.

"You're always welcome to join in," I say with a grin.

"Okay. I'm Louis, and I'm ten," he says, his smile returning as he includes himself in our little group. The girls seem less enthusiastic about his inclusion, and I can't help but laugh at their reaction.

"What's wrong, girls?" I ask, amused by their sudden change in demeanour.

"Louis isn't as fun as we were," they complain, prompting another round of laughter from me.

And that's how our friendship began, amidst laughter and playful teasing in the warm embrace of a summer afternoon.

I woke up, hoping yesterday had been just a nightmare. Memories flooded back—Lottie crying in my arms, helping the younger girls with the necklace. It was 7 AM, and sleep had been elusive; thoughts of Louis kept me up until 4 AM. I hoped desperately he'd be back home soon.

I couldn't stay in bed any longer, so I went downstairs, made some breakfast, and settled in front of the TV. Nothing caught my interest, so I aimlessly flipped through channels. Suddenly, a news report about a missing child caught my attention, but it wasn't about Louis. It was about Ashton Irwin.