Lost L.S

VII

Harry

Dream/flashback

3 years ago

(Fourteen-year-old Harry/Sixteen-year-old Louis)

Louis and I have been inseparable for years, our friendship woven together by countless shared experiences and inside jokes. Tonight, we're gearing up for a party filled with the chatter and laughter of our fellow fourteen-year-olds. It's a rare chance for us to let loose and revel in the excitement of youth, and I can't wait to spend every moment by Louis' side.

As we sift through our respective wardrobes at Louis' house, seeking out the perfect party attire, I can't help but feel a flutter of anticipation in my chest. "Lou, do you think these trousers work?" I ask, slipping into a sleek pair of pants. His eyes light up with genuine enthusiasm as he nods in approval. "Absolutely! Those look fantastic on you," he exclaims, his words filling me with a sense of confidence.

Eager to reciprocate his support, I turn my attention to Louis' outfit dilemma. "What about that rock t-shirt you have from Metallica?" I suggest, picturing how effortlessly cool he always looks in it. "Hmm, you think that's party-appropriate for ninth grade?" he ponders aloud. "Definitely! That shirt is iconic on you," I assure him, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips.

With his decision made, Louis settles on pairing the t-shirt with a sleek pair of black skinnies, his laid-back charm shining through effortlessly. "You always manage to make everything look good," I tease, admiring his easy confidence. His playful banter never fails to lift my spirits, and I find myself laughing along with him as we playfully debate our fashion choices.

Despite the light-heartedness of our conversation, there's an underlying warmth in our interactions, a sense of comfort and understanding that comes from years of shared camaraderie. As I continue to help him piece together his outfit, I'm struck once again by the depth of our friendship and the bond that binds us together, stronger than any piece of clothing or passing trend.

---

We arrived fashionably late to the party, greeted by a sea of adolescent faces, each brimming with youthful energy. Among them, Louis stood out like a beacon of maturity, his presence commanding attention despite being a few years older than the rest. As we mingled through the crowd, I couldn't help but notice the subtle glances and whispers that followed us, a testament to Louis's magnetic charm.

Just as the party threatened to become a mundane affair, a figure approached us with an air of confidence, his smouldering gaze fixed on Louis. "Hey, why is there such a cute boy here at the bar and not on the dance floor?" he quipped, his words laced with flirtation. Louis, ever the gentleman, responded with a mixture of politeness and discomfort, his reluctance evident in his tone.

Sensing Louis's unease, I intervened, my protective instincts kicking in. "Can you please stop flirting with my boyfriend?" I blurted out, my voice tingled with a hint of annoyance. The newcomer, Zayn Malik, seemed unfazed by my assertion, his smooth demeanour barely faltering as he continued to engage in playful banter.

But Louis, ever gracious, defused the situation with his trademark charm, offering a polite yet firm response. As Zayn retreated, I couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude towards Louis for managing the encounter with such grace.

"Thanks for saving me," Louis murmured, his expression a mixture of relief and gratitude. I couldn't resist a playful quip in response to, teasing him about Zayn's compliment. His laughter was like music to my ears, a reminder of the easy camaraderie we shared.

As the conversation shifted towards dancing. I felt a rush of excitement coursing through my veins. The prospect of losing ourselves in the music, of surrendering to the rhythm, was irresistible. With a nod of agreement, we made our way to the dance floor, the pulsating beat of George Michael's "Faith" beckoning us closer.