Misadventure

36

Harry's POV

"Louis and I need help." As soon as the words left my mouth, Louis was shaking his head. I mouthed the word, "What?"

"You shouldn't have mentioned that I'm with you," he whispered.

"I'm sorry," I whispered back.

"Harry, tell me what's going on," Niall spoke through the phone. "Is he okay?"

"He's fine," I said. "Listen, I'm really sorry to call you. I know it's late." In all actuality, I wasn't sure what time it was at all, but it had to have been well past midnight by now. "We're at the marina near Oceanside. My car won't start, and nobody else can come get us."

There was silence on the line.

"You still there?" I asked.

"Yeah. I'm still there." There was more silence, followed by a long sigh. "Is he drunk?"

"What? No, he's not-" Dread pooled in my stomach as the full gravity of the situation sank in. Niall didn't trust Louis. I realized getting him to help us might be a long shot. "Niall, please. My car broke down. I'm telling the truth. Otherwise, I would just drive us myself."

"I'm sorry, but I'm not going to come and get you," he told me, and my heart sank. "It has nothing to do with you, Harry."

"But I thought you two were friends again," I pleaded.

"We are. And the reason I've been able to forgive him is because I've set boundaries this time around."

"He's not drunk!"

"I'm not leaving my house at two in the morning to get him out of a mess. I don't do that anymore," Niall said with enough finality in his tone that I knew there was no use arguing any further. "Goodnight, Harry."

The line went dead, and I felt like crying.

"Couldn't we just call a rideshare service," Louis suggested.

"I don't have my wallet on me. Do you?"

"No," he answered. He sounded defeated. "I didn't think of that."

We both were silent. The coastal winds whistled as they jostled the car. I shivered. When I looked over at Louis, he was rolling up his sleeves and rubbing at goosebumps on his arms.

"I think it's time to call my parents."

****

"Hey, Harry. Long time no see. How've you been?" Mr. Tomlinson attempted to make conversation, but quickly stopped when he noticed the burning gaze he was getting from Mrs. Tomlinson in the drivers seat.

I sat squashed in the backseat with my cheek pressed against the right side window. Louis sat behind his mother in a similar state, with Lottie awkwardly in the middle. She was all groggy, wearing Christmas pajamas with her hair in a loose, frizzy bun. It was safe to assumed that Mrs. Tomlinson woke her up and dragged her out of bed to be a homosexuality buffer between Louis and I, heaven forbid our full-clothed knees accidentally touch.

I was beyond pissed.

Why was she more concerned about Louis now, when he was actually happy for once? At the beginning of this year when we first reconnected, he was a shell of himself, and it was all because of  the way she treated him.

It seemed like all she cared about was appearance, and having a gay son was bad for her image.

All of my old favorite places looked sadder at night. We passed the North Beaches, the cafe, and town square. Then we passed the school, and my old neighborhood. The sight made my knees feel weak.