Charlie. (Larry Stylinson)

Blasé.

Streets of London.

[A weary father and an old friend]

"It's like he thinks the whole world is out to get him. I've taught him to be more open-minded than that. What am I doing wrong?" Louis is distressed, a coffee in one hand, a small shopping bag in the other. And the thing is, he's never really been a fan of coffee; but after hours of sleep deprivation, he had no other remedies to turn to.

"He's younger, Lou. Maybe this is his way of coping. Blaming yourself and lashing out at him isn't going to make him feel any less terrible about the situation," Liam informs him. Liam has been much more well-together than the others, knows when it's appropriate to evoke certain emotions. He takes it all day by day, not sulking in what's no longer there, but instead, keeps his mind on what's to come. Admittedly, he misses Harry just as much as Louis, Niall, or anyone else who held a dear spot in the curly-haired man's heart. "And was taking the journal really a reasonable thing to do? You know how much that means to him." And maybe it was crossing a line, knowing it would hit a nerve in Charlie; but Louis just wanted his son to look at him, remember that he had two fathers. Louis has been feeling as though he was just sperm donor rather than the person who actually carried him for nine months and went through an intense and excruciating labor. It's as though he no longer fits into Charlie's world.

"Harry was always great with handling these situations," Louis states.

"Yeah. Well, time for you to step up, full-time," Liam informs him. A taxi stops beside them. "Take care, Lou; and please email me those wedding cake designs. The fiancé is on the verge of biting my head off," he says before hopping in the taxi, and then setting off.

When Charlie returns home from school, he finds Harry's journal set atop his duvet; and sadly exhales, knowing that he made Louis feel bad about their situation when it wasn't his fault.

November 14, 1988.

I spent the morning fighting my way out of bed; a lack of interest in school at the moment. I wasn't sure if it was just that phase that most teens go through or if the problem was rooted deeper than that. Maybe I was trying to avoid the inevitable; but I certainly didn't want some boy to be the reason I lost all focus. Breakfast was quick, some toast with wheat bread and orange juice. My mother seemed to be aware that something was wrong, the way I quickly maneuvered through my morning agenda in order to avoid questions. I'm sure her intuition was working overtime.

Something quite unexpected happened at school when I got there. Louis actually approached me. Me. I wanted to keep my walls up, make him see that I was irate with him, and wanted nothing to do with him; but when you're in the instance of things, your mind becomes the opposition. We conversed about classes, assignments, our plans after school, and then he brought up the one topic I thought he was too intoxicated to remember - the Halloween party. He asked me why I had left early, amongst some irrelevant things pertaining to the topic. I was persistent on biting the bullet; but then I realized it wouldn't make much sense if I complain to him about his actions under the influence of alcohol. He simply wasn't mine, as complex as that sounds, and as much as that annoys me. I couldn't be mad at a stranger. The conversation ended with, "see you around." I can be hopeful.

Im at my wit's ends, I think.