Secret Love (Boyxboy) (l.s)

Chapter 10

MAY 3, 2014

I, of course, don't tell Anne about the details of Louis and my first reunited night together. Thinking about that, I begin to really think about Anne. She is a good listener, I will give her that. She smiles kindly and gives me time to recollect myself when needed. If I met her under different circumstances, with him still here, I think I would like her. And I think she might actually like me, too. Not because it is her job to, or because she feels bad for the boy who lost his love, but because she wanted to.

Because she sees the green of my eyes and likes the stupid jokes I occasionally tell. Because she sees that everyone needs someone in their life that cares because they want to, not because they have to.

I think we would've got coffee on Mondays and she would've told me about her crazy old patients and how she feels sorry for most of them. I think Lou would've gotten jealous and I would've had to reassure him that he was the one that I loved.

And that leads me to wonder what my life would've been like had Lou's mum not hated me. I believe we would have been happy together, genuinly happy. We would've had family picnics where I would have complimented her appearance. We would've all gotten together at Christmas time and exchanged sweet gifts. She would've like me, the real me, if she would've gotten to know me, I think. I don't know what her lawyer friends would've thought, but Louis and I wouldn't have cared.

I think we would've eventually done our time at the sessions at the church and gone out to dinner to celebrate. I would've insisted to pay for it, of course.

And one day, when the time was right, I would've asked her if it was okay if I asked her son to marry me. I would have taken him to that damn stream, and he would've rolled up his pant legs to keep them from the wet. I would have taken his hands in mine and made this brilliant speech, where I told him how much he meant to me and how brilliant he was.

He would've gasped and tried, but failed, to hold in the onslought of happy tears. I would have used his full name, Louis William Tomlinson. And he would've said yes. I know he would've. He would have been so happy and we would have bought our own flat.

Then, we would adopt children, as many as he wanted. They would have been the luckiest goddamn kids in the world, having Lou.

And they would grow old, we would grow old. I would have died first, somehow. Hopefully, from old age, but Louis would not have been sad. He would know he would meet me soon. Then, one day I would be walking around in the clouds and he would join me. Hand in hand we would have walked into the sunset.

But, I snap back into reality. None of that will ever happen. Because Lou's mum did, does, hate me and Louis is gone. Never to return to the arms of the man who loved him. The arms of the man who would have died for him. The arms of a man who sits in a room conjuring up a life that will never happen just because he wishes so badly that it would have.

The arms of me.

I sigh and lean back into my chair, certain that Anne will ask me to leave again soon. My session for the day will be up and then I will only have one more. One more before they evaluate me again. And my mind tries so desperately to cling back to the what if?'s of my fantasy world. But I don't allow it to.

"This really is quite the story, Harry. I believe we are making great progression," Anne says.

I nod, unsure of whether to be pleased or upset.

"You know you only have one session left now?"

"Yes. I know. Do you think they'll let me go home?"

"I do. Do you think that you're ready? To go home and see his things, I mean. That can be a big step for a person and I don't want that to be a trigger for you.

"When something traumatic happens to a person of your background, they can often be violent or triggered when certain things remind them of the thing that caused the anxiety, or in your case, severe depression. You aren't holding any of your feelings back at this point, are you?" she wonders aloud.

"I don't know, if I am ready. I know that it will be hard, but not unbearable. I don't think. I am not holding anything back, though. I tell you every feeling that runs through my mind, even the ones I do not even understand."

"Would you like to know what I think, Harry? About what you are feeling?" she asks.

I am unsure of whether or not I want to, but I nod anyway.

"I think you are nostalgic," she says as if it is the most obvious thing in the world.

"No, I 'm not. Nostalgia is wishing for the happiness of a former time or place. I have no desire to be happy during a time that I was not. I was perfectly happy when I was with Lou, however short that time may be. I was only unhappy when what happened, happened. And I do not wish to be happy then.

"I honeslty don't wish to be happy now. I should be sad, I should be depressed. My love was ripped away from me. Eternally."

"I understand, it was just a theory. I see my fault now."

That is another thing Anne is good at. Seeing her faults. I am dismissed and I go back to the small room with the bed and table where I was to live until I am released. I sit on the bed and try to stop myself from thinking of him, which proves to be an impossible task.

I begin to think about those days he was at my flat. The ones where it was just us agaist the world. The days I wouldn't trade for the world.The days where he was my world.

I know they will never happen again, but I push that thought away for now. Now, I will just relish in how great they were, not how bad it is that they won't be. I will think about the fun we had and the times we possessed. Precious moments of what was to be the last. The love we shared and the happiness we felt. I will be happy knowing that life was in those moments, never greater. And I think about the breakfasts we ate and the movies we watched.

I think about the tickling wars we got in. I think about the arguements we never had. I think about how purely perfect life was and I think about how we did not care about a fucking thing other than the love we had for each other.

And I think about the chasing each other around and the dinner he cooked for me on the second night, which was burned and blackened but I forced it down anyway. And I think of all the times before that we shared and how great they were.

And I remember that very first day that he looked up and said "oops!". And I think about how his eyes would light up when he talked about books he enjoyed.

And I smile.

HEY GUYS!!! IM BACK AND ON A LAPTOP AND I WROTE LIKE 1K WORDS SO BE HAPPY. ILSM BYEEEEEEE

-ME