"Lovely"

Part Eight (Louis) and Part Eight and a Half (Harry)

Part Eight: Louis

“Well, I’m sorry, am I not allowed to visit with my grandson?”

I couldn’t stop the tears. I had kept my face buried into Harry’s sweater, where it was safe from Diana’s sharp glare.

She hated me, I knew it. Now she would think that I hated her grandson to; that I had hoped an eternity of unhappiness upon her. Chances are she agrees with everything Liam had said to me the day I was hit.

“Faggot”

“Dyke”

“Homo”

The names seemed to swarm over me with familiarity. All used to describe me back in Doncaster. Liam could not come here. He couldn’t. Even though we had moved for Dad’s work; both Daniel and I knew that the ultimate decision to go through with it was the Liam incident. I had tried so hard to cover up what was happening at school, taken extra measures, but the hospital had called home; and Dad made me tell him everything.

Everything.

Since then, I’d been unable sleep soundly. Whenever I did, I had terrible nightmares about it happening again. As the days passed, it was getting harder and harder to hide the anxiety; but I couldn’t do anything to stop it. Liam was going to find me.  He had threatened to kill me after we filed a police report. Said that if I were to press charges; he’d make sure I wasn’t alive to see the court date.

So, in order to prevent it, I took precautions-the most prominent of which being that I don’t cross the street anymore. There is a longer route that I can take to get home from school that I cross a field; but there is no traffic. I can’t do traffic. It scares me to death.

Harry just didn’t understand. I knew that he was trying to, but in the end, he would never completely understand it until he’d been there. He probably thought I was being absolutely pathetic. I was behaving like a child, but some unknown reason, I didn’t care.

I raise myself up on my tip toes to see over Harry’s shoulder, still keeping my arms tightly wrapped around his torso. There’s someone there, behind Harry. It takes nothing more than a quick look and I know. I know.

He’s back.

With a shrug he leans against the doorframe leading into the back room. His varsity football jacket hung open over his broadened shoulders. He appeared exactly as he had that day, his jeans sagging and his hair neatly combed on his head.

Liam.

I can’t make eye contact. With a quick smirk he begins to move towards me; taking large strides from behind the counter. His large hands slide swiftly over the chairs that surround several tables.

“Long time no see, eh Tommo?” he croons, approaching Harry’s back. Harry is oblivious to Liam, and continues to hold me, rubbing my back and whispering words I cannot hear. I can’t understand why Harry isn’t paying attention.

“Stay away from me.” I call out over his shoulder, ducking quickly back into Harry’s chest.

This only encourages Liam, placing his hands on Harry’s shoulders and sliding one of them down until it makes contact with the top of my head. Instantly I begin to struggle against his touch.

“Who needs to stay away?” Harry asks gently. “Lou?”

“Lou?” Liam mocks, circling around Harry. “He calls you Lou? Oh, that’s cute. Real fucking cute.”

Liam moves around Harry and I again, this time resting an elbow on Harry’s shoulder.

“Maybe I’ll start calling you Lou.”