***Louis Tomlinson***
Tuesday, March 27th, 2012 – North London, England

“Lou?” Harry knocked lightly on my door twenty minutes after our spat. No, it wasn’t a spat – it was a terrible, horrible fight and I didn’t know if we’d ever get past it. But I couldn’t talk to him right then – I couldn’t deal with it. I needed to calm down and gather my thoughts; I was too emotional at that moment to not completely open up to him, and I couldn’t do that, I just couldn’t. Plus, him consistently denying that we were together was very much starting to take its toll on me.

“I can’t talk to you right now,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper so he wouldn’t know I was crying, my back turned towards him. I heard him go down the hall back to his room, and then a few seconds later he thundered down the stairs and slammed out the front door. I ran to my window to see where he was going – he didn’t get in his car, just kept walking towards the lake nearby. I knew he was crying, and I knew I couldn’t comfort him in that moment but I couldn’t very well just let him alone. I called Zayn, who was good at this stuff.

“Miss me already?” he answered his phone.

“Zayn, I need a favor,” I said, and he could tell by my voice that I was serious.

“What’s up, Lou? You okay?”

“Harry and I have just had a major fight, and he left. I think he’s going to the lake, but he’s not stable, and neither am I, so I can’t talk to him right now. Will you guys go see if he’s okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, man, of course, but are you okay? One of us can come over there.”

“No, no, I’m fine, I need to be alone,” I said. It was true – I needed to be alone so that my friends didn’t see me break down. What I wanted was a completely different story.

“Okay, okay, Lou, we’ll go find him,” Zayn promised. “We’ll bring him back to you, okay?”

“Thanks, Z,” I said, and we said goodbye then hung up. I paced around the house, waiting around in my own anger and sorrow, hoping Harry was okay.

This whole “love” thing didn’t make any sense to me. How could I be so angry with him yet so worried about him at the same time? I knew Harry was emotional and always did or said things based on how he was feeling rather than calming down enough to think things through rationally, which was probably why he had become so unhappy. We had been together for a couple of months; why hadn’t I been able to make him better yet? Was I really that horrible of a person, friend, boyfriend? I couldn’t blame him if he thought so. I had been trying, I really had, but the more I opened up to Harry, the bigger the risk of me getting my heart broken was. And if Harry ever left me, there would be no recovering from that. Still, even though I knew that, I couldn’t bring myself to do the things that would prevent that from happening – like opening up to him. I wanted to tell him that I wanted him, that I needed him, but it was so much easier for me to just get mad at him than to tell him such intimate things. I just hoped the guys would find him soon, and that he wouldn’t do anything stupid, like jump in the lake.

Notes

Directioners,

Boys will be boys...