Journal | L.S

Chapter Three

The book is now rated Mature, because well, there will be mature things happening (Bottom Harry ofc). Not in this chapter though, but sometime soon. 

Harry still hasn't figured out that Louis doesn't like the constant pounding on his door. It has been a week and the bloody boy just won't leave him alone. Any minor inconvenience that his therapist or mother couldn't solve without making a long drive to his apartment, Harry was at Louis' doorstep. 

"It's seven a.m. on a fucking Saturday. Could you not?!" The door swung open and Harry stood there, plate of cookies in his hands as he smiled widely. Louis pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a loud sigh. "I swear to god-," 

"Thank you for helping me turn on my TV yesterday. I made cookies for you." He shoved the plate towards Louis, who would've gotten the plate straight into his chest if he hadn't managed to put his hands up to block it.  

Louis looked at the boy with an annoyed expression, the boy that had nearly cried yesterday at his doorstep when he couldn't get his TV to work. He had simply gotten his foot caught up in the cable and yanked it out of the outlet. "Thanks." He rolled his eyes, taking the plate from the boy before slamming the door in his face only to hear him pound on the door again. 

"Knock three times like fucking normal person and I'm not going to answer the door again until after noon. Now scoot along." He slammed the door again. 

At noon Harry was right outside the man's door again, pounding at the door and when Louis finally answered the door, not without sending the boy a death glare, Harry started to read out from the journal Louis had torn a couple of pages out. 

"Why should I knock three times?" The boy reads. "Why can't it be one? Or ten? How hard should I knock and what number should I count to between each knock?" If it was legal to kill someone, Louis would have a body lying on the ground in front of him. 

The man stood there with a blank expression on his face, wondering if the boy was actually being serious. Throughout the week he had been noticing little signs and perhaps he was right when he thought the boy was retarded; surely no one was actually that stupid so he had to at least have some cognitive impairment. 

"Would you like to watch a movie tonight?" Louis noticed the boy had flipped to a new page in his book, a page that looked like it had hundreds of questions written on it. 

"No, I'm working tonight." 

"Would you like to have coffee with me?" He read the next question, scrunching his nose. "I can't have coffee because my tummy feels funny after it." He confessed before reading the next one. "Would you like to -," 

"Listen, Harry. We're not friends. Frankly, you're weird and I'm not really interested in spending time with you." Louis interrupted before the boy would read all the questions, watching Harry's face grow confused. 

"B-But that's why I'm asking questions. Fiona said those questions help me make friends." 

"Well, try them on someone who's interested in being your friend." He gave the boy a light push, watching him flinch, before shutting his door, letting out a deep sigh once the boy was out of sight. 

"But I want you to be my friend." Harry mumbled sadly, turning to head back into his apartment.
He of course went to the store at two-thirty, seeing Louis leave his apartment at the same time. The man's eyes go wide as he once again gives up on waiting for the elevator and just hurries down the stairs.