A Walk in the Park--Larry Stylinson

A Song for You

Well, now . . . that was two arguments they'd had; that was if you didn't count the spat about the wet kitchen floor. Harry knew everyone had disagreements, but this one had been the worst, and he'd ended up in his bedroom. For weeks, he'd only gone in there to grab some clothes. His teddy bear had sat neglected on his night stand. He had it in his arms now, wishing it was Louis.

He shouldn't have said what he had. And even worse, he hadn't even apologized. He felt it was on him, as he'd been the one to start the fight. He hadn't handled it well at all. He wanted to go back in Louis' room and say he was sorry in the worst way, but it would be weird to say it, and then walk right back out again. But he'd have to leave, as staying wouldn't be an option. He had felt very unwelcome in Louis' room. Louis' eyes had practically scorched him.

Harry didn't leave his room to go to the living room to watch telly. And he heard no noise coming from Louis at all. The place was eerily silent. He wondered what he was going to do for the next few hours. He knew he couldn't go to sleep this early. It was only nine. He and Louis usually stayed up fairly late.

He ended up letting his mind go all over the place, dredging up all kinds of disturbing possibilities, like Louis asking him to move out, saying their relationship wasn't going to work out. He'd have to find an apartment, leaving the love of his life behind.

He admonished himself for thinking of the worst scenario, but they'd never had a fight like this before. Not even close. He couldn't imagine a life without walking dogs, seeing Louis watching him at practice and at performances, regularly picking up their hot cocoa, cuddling on the couch . . . doing their staring thing. That was when Harry started to cry. He buried his head in his pillow so Louis wouldn't hear him.

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Louis had hoped things would magically be all fixed by the next morning. Foolish of him, because that wasn't the way it happened. They barely spoke to each other. A barely-there "Mornin,'" uttered on both their parts, then they took turns in the shower before starting the day. They each ate a bowl of cereal. Louis ate his on the couch, leaving Harry at the dining table alone.

Walking the dogs was like a bad dream. Harry walked behind Louis instead of beside him, and neither one said a word for the entire four hours they walked. Harry gave Trinket, the tiny Shih Tzu extra cuddles, as if that would help to heal his heart. It helped, but he needed Louis' touch a lot more.

They stood inside the dog park watching the dogs romp, but barely acknowledged each other. Brooke was there with Peanut, as it was one of her days off. Within ten minutes, she yanked Harry off to the side, out of Louis' hearing.

"What's wrong?" she demanded.

Harry didn't mind telling her the bare bones about it. "Oh, just a little misunderstandin,'" he half-ass explained.

"I've never seen you two so . . . detached before!" she looked truly devastated. "I mean, it's awful to witness!"

"Well, we haven't talked since the fight last night."

"Fight? You said misunderstanding! Harry, tell me what happened! I know I'm nosy, but this time it's more that. I'm worried about you two. You're such a sweet couple. I'd hate to see you two split up or something!"

Harry actually grimaced when she said the words "split up." It just reinforced his own fears.

"I mean," Brooke back-pedaled quickly. "I don't think that'll ever happen. You love each other too much. But, Harry?" her eyes pleaded with him.

"It was simple. I just complained about Louis bein' messy, and it escalated into a . . . spat."

"Is that all?" Brooke looked dumbstruck. "That's nothing that can't be fixed! Why didn't you two make up? You did say you were sorry, didn't you?"