Misadventure

76

I'm back y'all.

It's a short one, but I wanted to get it published right away, since I've left you waiting so long.

Harry's POV

"It's gorgeous outside," Holly told us. She draped the yellow, checkered tablecloth over the picnic table out in the garden, where Dad was currently barbecuing.

He sat in front of the grill. Holly had adjusted the legs of it, that way the height matched his wheel chair.

I glanced over at Gemma, who was staring at him with the faintest smile. We were both sat in the shade, leaning against the trunk of an oak tree. "He's lucky to have Holly," Gemma said. "It's nice that she helps him to do all the things he used to."

I laughed a little at that. "I've never seen him grill before. He rarely even cooked on the stove before the accident. He's always been a microwave-type-man."

"Oh," Gemma replied. She went quiet for a moment, seemingly pondering my words. "He used to grill back in the early days, when we were little kids."

"Oh." Now it was my turn to sit with what she'd just told me.

It was a strange dynamic that was unfolding between us. I knew things about Dad that Gemma didn't, for the obvious reason that I'd been living with him for a few years now. But Gemma knew things too. She knew things about Dad during the time I was too young to remember.

This caused a bit of tension between us for a good chunk of June.

Gemma had held hostility towards Dad for memories I couldn't access. As frustrating as this was at times, I couldn't blame her. Her experience was very real to her, and it wasn't my place to understand.

On the flip side, Dad was a different person now, and I knew him better than she did.

But the more time passed, the more Gemma and I were able to reconcile.

There was no use arguing about the past. Instead, we helped each other fill in the gaps. I would recount stories to her about my life with him in Manchester, like the time I showed up to school in a car suit and begged him to come pick me up

Gemma shared old stories with me from our early days. A particular favorite of mine was one she'd told me yesterday, about a time we were playing hide and go seek at the park on Fifth Street, and I'd apparently gotten myself stuck under the blue twirly slide.

"Mum nearly called paramedics," she'd told me. "Luckily older boys were able to get you unstuck, but not without ripping your trousers. Those stayed behind."

****

"You're allowed to not know," I reminded him.

"I'm just worried about telling my mother, you know?" he said, sighing. "I'm worried how she'll react if I say I don't want to go back to school. But I'm even more worried how she'll react if I try going back to school, but then change my mind and leave."

"You're allowed to change your mind," I told him.

"I know."

"Do you?"

Louis frowned. "It's just scary... not having everything all planned out."

"It's going to be okay, Lou." I reached for his hand, stopping him from biting his nails. I placed it in mine and squeezed it tight.

"I've always had a plan," he said. "It's been my plan to go to university since before I even learned to read."

For some reason, this made my stomach ache with sadness. "It was never my plan," I said, because it was true.

Growing up, I never really thought ahead too far. I was more concerned with getting through each day. My plans had revolved around the little things; what my next meal would be, if I had clean socks for school the next day, finding a quiet spot to do homework. That sort of thing.

But I had an inkling, that perhaps young-Louis wasn't actually toddling around, daydreaming about gaining a scholarship to a fancy music school. It seemed more likely that his mother planted those dreams in his head.

*****

Later that evening, as the sun began to set, Gemma made her way downstairs to join Harry and Louis for dinner. The three of them sat around the kitchen table, sharing stories and laughter, just like old times. The love and warmth in the room were palpable, a testament to the bond they shared as a family.

After dinner, Gemma excused herself to her new room in the attic. Holly and Dad went up to settle in for the night shortly after.

Downstairs, Louis and I cuddled on the couch, our fingers intertwined.

I glanced up and met Louis' eyes. They were soft and sleepy right now.

He smiled shyly. "Hey you."

I sighed, curling up against his chest. "You're comfy. You make a nice pillow."

He laughed. "You make a nice blanket. We should probably get to bed soon, though."

He was right.

I knew he was right.

We had to leave insanely early in the morning for Ireland. Holly and Dad didn't know it, but we had a big surprise for them planned.

We'd decided not to tell them until after the fact, just incase it didn't work out.

I really hoped it would work.