I Remember You Laughing [Larry Stylinson]

Chapter 22- If Horses Could Talk

A/N: Hey everyone! I'm sorry I took so long to update. I have a habit I write further chapters before middle ones etc because I like to get it down as it comes in my head. So don't worry I have future chapters down already. lol. Comments? Votes?

"Mum, I don't see the big deal! Now you know!" Gemma shouted, pacing in the living-room.

They had gotten back home from the rodeo show a while ago, and the girls were now upstairs settled in bed. Louis sat on his bed with his feet on the ground and his face in his hands, still feeling queasy. He sprung to his feet, in his boxers, and opened the door, creeping out to see what the shouting was about.

"It's not about knowing and not knowing. It's when! Timing, Gemma! You should have said something before! Telling him I wanted nothing to do with him, and my daughter is dating his nephew!? Gemma, you made me look like an idiot!" she then turned to Harry. "Did you even see how he smirked at me!?"

Louis knew Harry hadn't seen. Louis did see, though, the way Simon smirked at Anne when they were exiting the arena, while in the corner of his eye, he saw that Harry was busy keeping an eye on him in case he wanted to throw up again.

He peeped from behind the staircase as Harry opted to nod, acquiescing her.

"And what is this about that jump? You practised on their ranch!?"Anne said snidely as she stuck her finger scornfully at the logo on Gemma's riding coat.

"Yes! So what? Harry, tell her! They have the best horses, the best facilities, the best trainers!" Gemma pleaded, counting on her fingers.

Anne threw her hands in the air. "Yes, and I'm proud of you but you could have said something. You were wrong, and I'm not going to let you go out with that weasel any longer!"

Louis sighed. The conversation was exactly the one his Mum should have had with him about that cancelled camping trip. Maybe if she had let Louis know he was doing something wrong by choosing football over his family...

Yeah. . . but I still lost her.

Suddenly feeling claustrophobic, he reversed into his room and pulled on his stonewashed jeans and a loose black sweater. He then crept over the distressed floorboard, to the kitchen, hoping not to be seen. Once there, glancing back to make sure no one noticed, he gently gripped his fingers on the chrome doorknob of the white, blinded backdoor, and slipped out.

                                                                             **

"Louis?" Harry called, only a few minutes later, from somewhere above his head. Louis had slid himself in the little wooden nook under the backstairs to take a smoke, his fingers warm and wet with new tears and snot. Outing the half-used cigarette, he covered his mouth and hoped Harry didn't hear him sobbing in the dark. He saw flashes of light move around the dark lawn, and knew Harry was scanning the yard for him. He then heard footsteps coming down the stairs, and soon Harry's head popped under, staring at him concerned, with the torchlight directed slightly to the left of his face.

"What are you doing down there?" he said casually, as if asking how someone's day was, while Louis raised his arm and blocked the sharp glare with the thick sleeve of his sweater. Louis knew Harry had already seen his tears and was probably trying not to make it too obvious. Louis appreciated that so much.

Flicking off the torchlight switch, Harry ducked under and fumbled to sit next to him, the ball of his right shoulder brushing into Louis' left. He had taken off his jacket and though Louis had on his sweater, he could feel the soft movement of the boy's muscles as he jammed into his side.