"Lovely"

Part One (Louis)

 Part One: Louis

  Whenever I get lonely, I find that it's best to go out and walk. Mum always said that being lonely is bad for your health; and that if you are lonely, you ought to fix it right away.

Since Mum died, it seems to always be lonely around here; and I've been doing a lot of walking. I suppose that the move doesn't really help things either though. Dad moved us all to Holmes Chapel for his work about a month back, and I've yet to make any friends. School starts up in about two weeks here; so I've been hoping and praying that things improve then. This will be my last year of school and I'm not really wanting to graduate a loner. 

I've never really been big on the whole "friends" thing, now that you mention it. Back in Doncaster I had a few mates, but no one I'd really bother to call or keep in contact with now that we've left. You know, just sort of people you sit with on breaks, and maybe meet up with on the weekends. I have yet to meet a best mate though. That's what I really want. Someone I can call if I need to talk, and who likes the same things I like.  Someone who can come on my walks with me. Not a girl though. In Doncaster most of my friends were girls. After I came out, the boys at school wouldn't talk to me. I got beat up a lot, too. There was even one time where Liam Payne, the captain of the school's football team hit me with his car. The result was a dislocated shoulder and four broken fingers; all of which on my right hand. After I had been on the ground for a few minutes, Liam pinned my shoulders down and had Zayn Malik, who was also on the football team, write "Faggot" up both my arms, and on my forehead.

The dean of my school didn't do much about it though. Liam told her that I "ran into traffic", and the whole thing was dismissed as my fault. He even made me pay for the dent on his bumper.

   That's what finalized the move for Dad, I think. I couldn't explain it like I had with the other beatings. Those could've been written off as a fall down the stairs, or slipping on some ice. But I had had to call 9-9-9 and the doctor at the hospital told my dad what had happened. As soon as school had finished, we moved away.

Now here we are, in Holmes Chapel, Cheshire. It's definitely not a big place, but it has a sort of small town charm that dad's always going off about. There's really not much here, just houses, a few shops and a small school; where I'll be attending in a few weeks.

~

After wandering around town for a bit longer, I start to get hungry. Glancing around, I notice a bakery at the end of the road. I re-adjust my beanie on my head, and walk over.

It's an old building. I can tell that it was once a bold and vibrant shade of yellow, but that has since faded, leaving a tinged and rustic looking exterior. The roof and door were both a burgundy. The paint on the doors and the windowsills was chipping, and I could see the beige rock underneath what was once new and polished. I don't know why I'm nervous, but I am. I just hate ordering food. I always feel like the staff of wherever I am is judging me based on what I order; or that they make fat jokes about me in their head as I'm ordering. This is why I usually avoid these sorts of places. But, I didn't eat dinner last night, or breakfast this morning, so I guess if I eat something small it's not too bad is it? Or what if I just get tea? Tea is always good. Earl Grey tea with a third milk and two packets of sweetener. That's the best way to do it. It also only has about twenty five calories, which isn't too bad considering that I've been walking all day.

I shake off my nerves and open the door. Immediately the fresh aroma of baking bread fills my nostrils. I come into the shop, closing the door behind me. That's always been a habit of mine too. Dad would always get mad if I didn't close doors behind me though. Friendly reminder that they are not heating the outside. 

I look around the bakery. If anything, it appears relatively normal. There are a few tables along one side, each with four chairs around them. The tiles in the floor are dark brown, and are all shiny like they had just been mopped. The other side is home to a long counter filled with different types of bread, as well as cupcakes and other sweets. A register sits at the end of the counter, and behind it stands-

I feel a pain shoot up my left hip, and I realize that I've smacked right into the corner of the counter.

"Oops." I cry. I suppose I was quite loud, because the boy that was standing behind the register looks up at me.

"Hi!" He calls. His chocolate coloured curls bounce on top of his head as he approaches me. The boy has got this massive grin on his face, revealing a pair of adorable little dimples in the sides of his cheeks. "Are you alright?"

I feel the heat rise in my cheeks, and in response my eyes dart to the ground, unable to keep contact with his.

"Yeah I just bumped into the co..." I trail off. He laughs and shakes his head.

"You gotta watch for those. Counters are awful little things, always bumping into people."

I giggle and look up at him, "I suppose so."

He shakes his head, "They should watch where they're going!"

  I can't help but notice the way he laughs at his own jokes. I think it's cute, but at the same time, I think he might think it's cute as well. I also kind of wonder if he thinks I'm cute. Probably not; I can't imagine someone like him going for someone like me. That is if he's into guys like me. I can never seem to tell.

"Well." He says, sounding rather satisfied with himself. "I didn't notice that you bumped the counter. I just heard your-"

"Oops?" I cut him off.

He laughs, "Yeah! Exactly! And then you heard me go "Hi!" and now we're...talking."

"Yeah." I grin.

We're quiet for a moment, both of us with these smug smiles plastered across our faces.

"Can I get you something?" He asks politely.

"Oh, I-I" I stammer, "Tea. I'd like a-a tea, please."

 "A tea?" he confirms, "Which bag should I put in?"

I completely forgot about that. He probably thinks I'm such a ditz. No brains at all. "Oh! Um, earl grey with a third milk and two packets of sweetener."

The boy nods, and sets to it, filling a paper cup with hot water before adding milk, sweetener, and a tea bag. With an artistic sort of grace he stirs it up and pops a lid on, begin careful to mark it with what's in it.

"Just down here, if you don't mind."

I walk to the register a bit too quickly, and I know that he noticed my excitement. He laughs again, placing my tea on the counter in front of him. "It'll be € 1. 50, if you've got it."

I reach into my bag and pull out a € 5.00 note and hand it to him. He enters it in, and hands me my change, but he takes a while with my receipt, writing something on the back.

"Here you are. € 3.50, a receipt, and your tea."

He lifts it from the counter and holds it out to me, smiling.

"Thank you." I say gratefully, taking it from him.

He glances down at the floor and folds one of his arms behind his back.

"Well," I begin, gesturing to the door, "I should be...going..."

"Yeah." The boy looks a bit sad, but he comes around the counter and stands with me, "It was nice meeting you..."

"Louis." I say quietly.  He nods, his curls falling into his face.

With a shrug he pushes them back, allowing them to sit in a mop like style on his head.

"Louis. That's a nice name." He says, quieter than I was.

"Oh...well thank you-"

"Harry." He grins again, "I'm Harry."