Lost L.S

V

Harry

Dream/flashback

8,5 years ago

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

Today is Louis' birthday, and I've got the perfect present for him. He's turning eleven, and his voice is incredible, so I decided to get him a microphone. It's a top-notch one, and I know he'll love it. Maybe it's a bit extravagant for only knowing each other for half a year, but I want him to know how much he means to me and how talented he is. Despite his insecurities about singing, I think he should share his gift with the world.

It's also Christmas Eve, which means we'll be heading to the Tomlinson family's house tonight. I love that our families are so close. Lottie and Fizzy turned six and seven last summer, and the twins, Phoebe and Daisy, are now three years old. They're absolutely adorable.

"Mum, can we go to Louis'?" I ask eagerly. "We're going in an hour," she replies. "I don't want to wait that long. I want to see my Louis," I plead. "How about we make a deal? We'll leave in fifteen minutes, but you have to make sure you're ready. That means brushing your teeth, tidying up, and putting on something nice for Louis. How about that suit you have?" she suggests. "Yeah, that sounds cool," I agree.

I dash upstairs, brushing my teeth meticulously. I open my closet and spot the suit Dad gave me on my seventh birthday. At the time, I thought it was a silly present, but now that I'm almost nine, I'm excited to wear it. I hope Louis likes it.

"Done, Mum!" I exclaim as I race back downstairs. "Alright, love. We can go now," she says with a smile. "Yay!" I cheer, slipping on my shoes and using my blazer as a makeshift coat.

We arrive at Louis' house, and I ring the doorbell. Louis, as usual, answers the door. "Hazza!" he shouts happily. "Hey, Lou," I reply, rushing into his arms for a hug. He effortlessly catches me as I jump into his embrace. "Happy birthday, Boo," I say with a grin. Louis beams at the nickname.

"Thanks, Curly," he responds. "I can't believe you're already eleven!" I call out, excitement bubbling within me.

---

We move on to the presents now. Louis receives all sorts of amazing gifts. From his grandma, he gets a watch, which once belonged to his late grandfather. Louis tears up a bit at the sentimental gesture, and I wrap him in a comforting hug, letting him find solace in my embrace.

"Looks like it's Harry's turn to give Lou bear his present," Jay announces. "Oh, right," I respond, catching Louis' attention. I hand him the wrapped microphone. There's a note attached, and I feel a twinge of embarrassment knowing he'll read it aloud. "The note says: 'On this day 11 years ago... my hero was born. Happy birthday to my man crush ;) Yayyy!!'" he reads with a smile. "Aw, thanks, Hazza," he says, embracing me. Everyone chuckles at the cheeky message.

"You're the bestest friend ever," Louis declares. "That's not even a word!" I laugh. "Oh well, for you, there are no real words. You have to make up words to describe you," he quips, eliciting more laughter.

"Anyway, you still have to unwrap my present," I remind him. "Oh, right," he says, swiftly tearing open the wrapping to reveal the microphone. "Now you can really show off that beautiful voice of yours," I tell him. "Thanks, Hazzy," he replies with gratitude.

For the remainder of the day, we enjoy cake and festivities, and I end up spending the night in Louis' room, cherishing the warmth of our friendship.

Lottie

Louis' absence presents an opportunity for me to get closer to Harry. Sure, I feel a twinge of sadness for my brother's disappearance, but I can't deny the potential benefits for me. With Louis out of the picture, Harry's attention is up for grabs, and I intend to seize it.

After pondering for a while, I devise a plan. Sending him a letter seems too obvious and making up fake excuses would be too transparent. Then it hits me—I could create a fake journal blaming Harry for Louis' disappearance. I'll make it seem like Harry's actions caused the rift, pushing him away from Louis and closer to me. It's diabolically simple.

Rummaging through Louis' belongings, I find a red journal, pristine and untouched. Our handwriting is so similar that I can easily mimic his style. I begin to write, crafting a narrative where Harry is the villain, driving a wedge between us with his annoying behaviour. It's all fabricated, of course, but I need Harry to believe it.

I leave the journal where Harry is likely to find it, ensuring that he stumbles upon my concoction of lies. The plan is set in motion.

Behind the scenes, I outline a strategy on my computer, detailing how I'll flirt with Harry and emulate Louis' mannerisms to draw him closer to me. If Harry always enjoyed Louis' company, maybe he'll warm up to mine too.

With determination fuelling my actions, I set out to execute my plan, eager to win Harry's affections while Louis is conveniently out of the picture.

Harry

Harry is consumed by guilt as he stumbles upon a journal entry seemingly blaming himself for Louis' disappearance. The weight of responsibility crushes him, and panic sets in as he grapples with the idea that he's the cause of Louis' absence. Lottie's presence offers little comfort initially, but her concern becomes evident as Harry's distress escalates.

As Harry spirals into a state of panic, Lottie tries to assess the situation. Yet, her reaction seems oddly detached, prompting Harry to question her motives. His escalating anxiety manifests physically, his heart racing and body overheating.

Lottie's attempt to help by assisting Harry with his shirt further blurs the line between genuine concern and ulterior motives. Harry's vulnerability in this moment is palpable, and Lottie's lingering gaze adds another layer of discomfort to an already distressing situation.

Despite Lottie's efforts to reassure him, Harry'sguilt and fear continue to consume him. His anguish is palpable as he grappleswith the possibility that his actions may have led to Louis' disappearance. Inthis moment of vulnerability, Harry finds himself not only confronting thereality of Louis' absence but also questioning his own role in the unfoldingtragedy.