***Harry Styles***
Thursday, July 19th, 2012 – North London, England

I was cooking dinner in the kitchen Thursday evening when I heard Louis walk in the room.

“Oh, sorry,” he said when he saw that I was in there. I decided this was my chance to try and make peace with him, since he’d been going to great lengths to avoid me after I’d accused him of not caring on Monday. I also couldn’t handle all the things that reminded me of him, like living in the same house. So I called him back in the kitchen to talk about it.

“Lou,” I said, using the shortened version of his name that I only used as a term of affection.

“Yeah?” Louis asked, surprised I was speaking to him.

“I just wanted to let you know I’m going apartment hunting this weekend, so I’ll be out of your hair soon,” I told him, a part of me hoping he’d tell me not to.

“Harry, you don’t have to do that,” he said, which made my heart jump. As much as I wanted to make peace with him and stay, there was still a part of me that was guarded towards him. Louis was my best friend and always would be, but he was also the only person who had ever broken my heart, and I had no idea how to deal with that.

“I just think it’ll be easier all around,” I shrugged, hoping he’d continue to fight me on it. He didn’t.

“Well, good luck, then,” was his response, making my heart sink once again as I lost all hope for us.

“Are you hungry?” I decided to change the subject to distract me from the sudden desire to stick my face in the hot pan in front of me just to get rid of the pain everywhere else. “I’m making extra.”

“Um,” Louis said. I wished he would keep talking – I needed him to say something, anything, even just about the weather so that I didn’t have to focus on reality.

“I know you haven’t eaten a lot, sit down,” I told Louis. Being in the same room with him was about the last thing I could handle, but I did know he hadn’t eaten since I hadn’t been cooking for him and I knew that would affect his energy.

“So, are you – are you not mad at me?” Louis asked as he sat down at the bar.

“I just think that eventually you and I are going to have to learn to be in the same room,” I shrugged, stating the complete opposite of what I was thinking as I put Louis’s plate of chicken and rice in front of him. “You know, for the band,” I added, because that part was true and it diverted me from spilling my guts out to him. Louis just nodded silently, and then I sat down next to him and we began eating.

It was the most torture I’d ever put myself through. It was worse than cutting, having to sit there close enough to taste his scent, trying to make small talk that clearly neither of us were interested in. I had meant it on Saturday when I’d told him I missed my Louis – I understood he’d been dealing with a lot but I didn’t understand how someone so strong could just lose himself like that. What I really didn’t understand, though, was how I could fail so greatly at reminding him of who he was, and that thought kept me up crying that night.