True Lies (Larry Stylinson)

Chapter 20

HARRY:

      I sat up a few minutes later, rubbing my cheek where Louis had hit me. The house was quiet. Unnaturally quiet. I slowly got up from the floor and went to the bedroom. I picked up the phone to call Liam or Zayn and see if they had seen him. I called Liam first and listened for the ring.

     "Hello?" A groggy voice answered.

"Liam? Have you seen Louis? I don't know where he went." I cried, wiping my eyes on my shirt.

"Huh? No. I haven't seen him. But if I do I'll let him know you're looking for him." He said.

"Will you tell him that I'm sorry?" I asked.

"Yeah. What happened?" He inquired.

"It's a long story. But, in a condensed version, he's mad because I lied to him." I sniffled. "Please tell him to come home if you see him." I pleaded.

"Okay." he said. "I will." And he hung up.

     I sighed and ran a hand through my curls that I had yet to brush that day. I went to the closet to get a jacket and go out to look for him. I tried calling him, to get no answer and took a quivering breath. I pulled the closet door open and a box fell at my feet. I picked it up and upon further examination I discovered that it was Louis' box. The box I wasn't allowed to open.

     I carried it downstairs and set it on the table, retrieving a bottle of vodka I was keeping under the kitchen from when Louis’ mom was visiting. I unscrewed the cap and poured it in a glass and sat down, eyeing the box. It was old, the cardboard soft and frayed at the corners. It was duct taped across the top and sides to keep it closed. I took a deep breath and a long swig of the alcohol before carefully peeling the tape off and taking the lid off.

     Inside were a few dog eared pieces of paper, some old pictures. I took them first. Most of them were of us. One was of Louis and me at the park a few years ago. Another was of us last Christmas. We were happy and smiling. These were taken before I messed everything up. I picked up the papers next. I read through the scratchy handwriting and recognized it as Louis’ right away. They were letters. All with my name at the top.

     I took another and another drink straight from the bottle before reading them. I opened the first one and skimmed through the words until I picked another one. I sat for hours at our table, staring at his words. All of them saying the same things. “I’m sorry” “I miss what we had before I found out what I was” “I want our friendship back”.

     I felt a tears slip down my cheek at this. He was sorry. Sorry for what? For being gay or for being gay for me? Had I made him feel so terrible that he wanted to change who he was for me? Was I that important to him?

     I sifted through the other contents of the box. I found a few more pictures, some of us and some of his family from when he was younger. I found a ring I had jokingly given him after I got it out of a gumball machine one night at the movies with him. I had no idea he kept it.  I also found a small piece of metal at the very bottom, wedged between the sides of the box.