Misadventure

37

Louis' POV

When Mum came first downstairs this morning, my heart was nearly beating out of my chest. One of the plates I was washing nearly slipped from my trembling, clammy hands.

At first glance, she seemed to be ready for church. Her hair was carefully curled and appeared crisp with hairspray. The floral blouse she had on didn't have a single wrinkle, her delicate cross necklace resting around its collar.

"If you're looking for your grey pencil skirt, it's in the recliner, "I told her. "I did some laundry last night."

Or maybe it hadn't been last night. Maybe it had been this morning. I hadn't slept, so the two were sort of bleeding together in my memory.

She left the kitchen without a word. She reappeared a few minutes later wearing the skirt.

"Please just say it," I practically begged her. I wanted to get it over with. My mother hadn't spoken a single word to me since she picked Harry and I up last night.

"Say what?"

"That you're mad at me? That you hate me? That I'm an awful son?"

She stood in the doorway, looking me up and down with her arms crossed. God, she resembled me. Especially right now, when she was staring at me with such distaste.

"I'm more disappointed than mad, Louis."

I knew she was holding back, and only put me more on edge.

"I'm really sorry," I said quietly, staring down at the kitchen tiles.

"Are you?"

"Yes."

She breathed out, sitting down at the table and holding her hands on her head like she was mortified. "I cannot believe you're still speaking to this boy."

It bothered me, the way she wouldn't even say his name, like it was some sort of shameful, dirty word.

"He just means so much to me, Mum." I pleaded, an awful lump forming in my throat. My voice went watery. "I can't help the way I care about him."

"I'm bringing you back to campus in the morning after church."

"But there's still four days left of break... I just-"
Suddenly I got choked up. My face turned hot and my throat felt constricted by anxiety. Why was I even arguing, though? The idea of getting out of this house was quite appealing at the moment.

"Go upstairs and pack."

*****

"Where do you think you're going?" Mum whisper, her voice stern and clipped.

"To the basement..?" I wasn't trying to have an attitude at all, but I was genuinely confused. I always left the service to practice piano at around the same time Sunday schoolers were dismissed. This routine had been engrained in me since I myself was Sunday school aged.

"Sit down." She gently tugged the sleeve of my crisp, starchy blouse that I absolutely hated wearing. "You're an adult, Louis. It's time you start acting like one."

Pastor Stan got out the offering bowl began passing it around, starting with the front row. Mum moved to the outside of the pew. She sat facing the aisle with her legs crossed, talking to a friend across from her.

"I let my daughter Rosemary go to university for a while. Had to pull her out after the first semester, though," the friend said. "Be careful. It's not what it used to be. Now it's one big, giant safe space for those LTQBG's or LMNOP's, or whatever it is they call it."

"Louis has a good head on his shoulders," my mother lied. I shrank in my seat, knowing she didn't believe the words coming out of her own mouth. "He's going to finish school first, then settle down and marry a nice young lady someday."

"Well, I'll tell you what. I thought my Rosemary would find a nice Christian man. A month later, I caught word of her kissing a girl."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Evelyn," Mum told her. "I hope she's doing better now."

By the time the offering bowl reached our row, it was full to the brim with coins and notes. I briefly wondered how much heroin could be bought with all of that money.

I snapped out of it and passed the bowl behind me without bothering to look who it went to.

****

"I hate your creepy lizard."

"Thanks, Liam." Harry smiled and batted his eyelashes. "It's nice to see you too. My Christmas was good, how was yours?"

Liam fake coughed. "Wanker."

The three of us were currently in his and Harry's room. I was helping Harry unpack (aka guarding the doorway incase any RA's were in close proximity, while he smuggled in a heated tank and a cellophane bag of live crickets from Petco.

"Pets aren't allowed in the dorms," I reminded Harry, amused. "And those bugs are loud as fuck."

"I'll hide everything in my bathroom."

"Our bathroom," Liam corrected him.

"Babe, I'm not trying to make you sad, but what if you get caught? Are you really willing to be potentially kicked out of the dorms over a lizard?"

"I'm prepared to risk it all for this lizard," he told me solemnly. I was trying not to laugh at him. Not that it mattered. He was too busy making heart eyes at Santa to even notice me.

Long hair. Reptilian side kick. Green eyes. Dead mother.

Was I dating Rapunzel?

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I relapsed.

It was my fifth night back on campus since break. Something about seeing Harry again for the first time since that night with my parents, made me feel all out of sorts. It was so stupid and bizzare and frustrating, because I fucking loved him so so much.

I hated myself for loving him, and for that I hated myself even more.

So I rang Will at nearly four in the morning, and I met him out behind the dorms. He slipped me oxycontin. This time he offered me acid, and I normally would have said no, but the idea of altering reality was rather appealing to me at the moment.

I knew that this time around, hiding my addiction was going to be a whole different ballgame. I needed to do a much better job. I needed to be careful and vigilant, and really make an effort to pretend that everything was okay.

My efforts the first time around hadn't been good enough. At the time, I had reached the point where I just didn't care anymore about anything.

Now, things were different. The stakes were so much higher, because now I had a life again. I had everything to lose, and I knew that if I let the things I cared about slip away from me again, I wouldn't be strong enough to pick the pieces back up for a second time.

Now that Zayn knew about my addictions in full, Harry knew about the drinking, and Mum knew about me and Harry, I couldn't appear to be anything less than perfect to any of them. Even the tiniest of slip ups would leave room for speculation that my vices could be to blame.

And I really, really didn't want Harry to see me intoxicated. It wasn't only that I didn't want him to see me intoxicated, especially after the whole fiasco with Gemma over break.

Everything would be fine. At least, it would seem fine from the outside, and that was all that mattered. I was a good performer, and it seemed all the practicing my mother had me do would finally be put to good use after all.