Addicted To You .L.S.

Forty One.

Four and a Half Months Ago
(Seventeen Years Old)

The bathroom is empty. Harry's starting on from of the mirror, twiddling with his hair.
I stand there, furious and enraged and any other angry word I can think of.
He won't even look at me. Just starts washing his as if we actually came in here to freshen up.                                          
"What are you doing?" I demand.
"I'm washing my hands," he says. "Duh."
"Harry!"
He flinches. The water drips off of his hands and onto the brown tile floor. Wide eyes meet mine in the mirror before he turns away.
  "What are you doing?" I ask him again. "Nothing," he mutters.
"Nothing? You're trying to set me up with Gem."
"What's wrong with that?" He asks, quick and defensive, as if I've insulted his sister. "Gem's sweet and she's good and she's honest. She'd be a great girlfriend."
"It's Gem," I say, which should explain enough.
"She loves you; you know that."

  Of course I know that. It's why what he's doing is so twisted. He's not this stupid—but he is exactly this smart. If I'm with Gem, I'm off-limits in a way that'll keep him from crossing any lines. It's the only think that'll stop him. Stop us.
  I want to scream at him. I want to apologise to Gem, because there might have been something between us if Harry hadn't ruined me from anyone else. I want to run out of here and slam the doors so hard they crack.
  I want to press him between the sinks and run my tongue along his collarbone.

"Why are you doing this?" I step towards him, and he backs away, but I just keep coming until his shoulders press against the mirror. I try to use the stretch of height Harry has over me to my advantage. I get in his space and stay there. The initiation part has always been the guys job, but now it's different. This is different.
  I can draw the back of my finger down the soft of her neck and let the sound he makes twine deep in my stomach and stay there.
  So I do.
  "Louis." It's a warning, a gasp. "I just—I want things to go back to normal. Things need to go back to normal."
"They can't," I say.
  He licks his lips. "We can't do this."
  "We can," I say.
  "But Gem..." he trails off. "My mom.    Everything. It can't work. You and me—it's not right. You and Gemma is right. It's normal. Everyone expects it. Im trying to help."
  "You're trying to hide," I hiss.
  "I can hide if I want."
  "I'm saying you don't have to."
  He jerks out of my hold. "Of course I do!" He bursts out. "What do you think? That everything's gonna be fine if I tell my mom I'm gay? She'd call in an army of priests to start praying. How do you think Gem will feel when she figures out the boy she's been in love with forever screwed her little brother? And everyone at school—do you remember what happened to Jacob? Do you want FAG spay-painted on your car? Because that's what waiting for us, Lou. Hiding is safe. Choosing Gem is safe."
   There are tears in my eyes, down my cheeks. There's nothing to say to convince him. We don't live in a big city. Harry doesn't come from a family where such things are accepted. He's right, his mother would call in a priest. And Gem—no matter what happens, Gem will always get hurt.
  Nothing I say will change his mind. Years of loving him taught me that, I hate how trapped he is, how trapped he's made me.
  "Gem loves you," he says in the horrified quiet that hangs between us. "She'd be good for you."
  "I love Gem," I tell him. "I love her enough I can't do that her. I can't use her to hide because it's safe or because you want me to."
  "Be smart, Louis," he says, and I hear more warning than pleading in his voice. A wariness that's never been there before. "Choose her."

  I walk away from him—it's almost easy, like another person controlling me, I turn back. He stands at the mirror, watching me through the reflection, and I meet his eyes.
  "I'll choose you," I says. "No matter how hard it is. No matter what people say. Every time, I'll choose you. It's up to you to choose me back."
As I close the door behind me, I hear him start to cry.