Fine Line || L.S.

Putting A Price on Emotion

Harry and Lily concluded their walk by sharing a joint on Harry's back porch. The sun was flirting with the setting, the smoke circling them contributing to the haze around the warm afternoon.

Harry had never really talked about the next part-it was when things started getting complicated when it was easier to not talk about these things rather than talk about them. Lily was captivated by the story now-she couldn't understand how two people who seemed so in love not even ten years ago could be so out of touch.

"Then Eleanor came into the picture," Harry took a hit off the joint, holding it between his index finger and thumb. "From the beginning it was hard. You know, management seemed a lot more concerned with Louis. Someone even told me once that people would take me as I was, but Louis had to fit an expectation. At the time, I don't know, maybe I was naïve or, I don't know, dumb, but I didn't understand.

"But I think I do now. It was always harder for Louis. Somehow he couldn't get away with being different like I sometimes was. He had to be straight and narrow."

Harry sighs and passes the joint to Lily, "But, yeah, Eleanor. She was nice, pretty, I remember when I first met her I liked her, and I think Louis did too. It was kind of like shaking hands with the situation. It wasn't ideal. I mean, he had to pretend to have a girlfriend."

"And you had to watch him kiss her," Lily added, exhaling smoke.

Harry nodded, "Exactly. Tricky shit."

Lily passes the joint and Harry continues. "It started that the two would date for like, four months, just to clear the air. Rumours were becoming less and less speculation and more, well, factual. But then, management just pushed and pushed, and there was no foreseeable end to it.

"I got really pissed with Louis. I felt like he wasn't putting his foot down hard enough."

Harry remembers silently one of the biggest fights he and Louis had about it. Louis had come home from an event with Eleanor, and Harry had made dinner to surprise him. Louis, however, was too tired to stay up and eat and wanted to go to bed.

"I made dinner," Harry remembers saying, smiling.

He remembers how tired Louis looked-he almost looked ill. "I'm too tired, hon, I'm sorry."

"Come on, just real quick, then we can go to bed," Harry pushed.

"Thanks, mate, I just really need to pass out-"

"I made chicken cordon bleu, it's your favo-"

"For the love of God, Harry," Louis interrupted abruptly, "let me go to bed."

Harry remembered the feeling-it was almost like carpet burn-there are worse feelings, but when you got it, it's pretty bad.

"What happened?" Harry asked.

Louis made his way towards their stairs, his back to him. "Nothing, I'm just tired."

"Can't you just sit with me, I haven't seen you all day," Harry said.

Louis turned around, standing a few steps up, "Are you listening to me? I'm fucking exhausted."

Harry didn't know what to say. Louis turned and started up the steps. Harry remembers thinking to himself: Don't say it. He's just tired. He'll feel better in the morning.

But he didn't listen to himself. He was too angry. It felt like Louis wasn't trying hard enough.

"You can't stay up an hour to have dinner with your boyfriend?" Harry remembers the harshness of his words. "After a day with your beard."