It's only the third time since Zayn's expulsion that I've gone to visit him. I feel a shade of guilt as I sit in the media room and attempt to converse with the pallor, unhappy looking boy. He hasn't been able to smoke anything, or imbibe any kind of alcohol. I don't feel bad that his addictions are being terminated, but I can see how much distress he's in, which doesn't make me too excited.

"What've you been doing, then?" It's a stupid question, but I ask it anyway.

Zayn's chocolate brown eyes look daggers at me. "Sitting here,"

I nod. "That's fun."

"I could be out doing stuff, but I'm sitting here, ostracized from the world. So, so fun."

"I'm sorry."

He scoffs. "No you aren't."

His comment jabs at a nerve. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you don't give a shit about me. In fact, I'll bet you're happy I got caught. Now I can't be the useless druggie you think I am."

I give him an indignant half smile and shake my head. "I'm not the one who doesn't care about you, and I'm not the one who thinks you're a useless druggie."

"Who is it, then?" He challenges. "Because I'm pretty damn sure it's you."

"It's you, Zayn. I have never called you useless, or a druggie. I've told you that I don't agree with you smoking weed and cigarettes so much because you're either going to get caught or catch cancer. And that's because I do care about you. So don't try to make me feel like a bad guy."

"Then why didn't you try to help me out of this?"

I throw my hands up in frustration. "What the hell was I supposed to do? They found a pound of pot in your locker!"

"You could have said it was your's and you just put it in my locker so you didn't get caught or something,"

"You're being irrational. That isn't my responsibility."

Zayn sinks back further into the brown, leather couch and crosses his arms over his chest. He impeccably resembles a two-year-old, pouting about this. I'm genuinely offended that he views me as an inadequate friend for not taking the blame for his idioticy.

I rise from my seat and glare down at him. "You know what, Zayn, I've tried to be here for you and support you even though you're a low, foul git. I've been here for you since we were small, but I'm done putting up with you. You criticize me and blame me for your problems, and I'm utterly done. Come find me when you want to treat me like a friend instead of rubbish."

Without giving him an opportunity to reply, I exit his home and head to mine on my skateboard. My heart feels heavy and my chest is still bubbling with rage. I don't understand how putting the culpability of his actions on me makes him feel better, but it doesn't make me feel better. I'm tired of giving a mile and getting an inch in return.

This is why I like to shut people out; nothing good ever comes of putting your trust in anyone. Humans are flawed; they're greedy, selfish, defensive, and horrified. The pattern seems to continue for everyone I see, and I'm close to becoming a recluse.

A loud, ghastly noise sounds from down the corridor as I trudge to my next class between bells. More pounding follows as well as the swelling shouts of over animated teenagers. I change my course and ready myself to either break up a pointless brawl or defend a bully victim.

When I turn the corner and see what's causing the clamor my stomach begins eating away at itself. Louis is meagerly attempting to defend himself from two fellow members of the football team who've got him forced against the lockers. It appears as though they've already graced his face with a healthy punch to the eye. My pulse heightened and I didn't even hear my ridiculously thick history text-book hit the ground after I threw it out of my way.

"Get away from him," I roar lowly and use all my strength to grip the back of one of the antagonist's shirt and cast him away from Louis. Unhappy with my retaliation, I receive a firm blow to the jaw. Sheering pain spreads through my face. I throw a punch back and my fist collides with the bloke's nose. Before anything can be done in return, I dig my knee into his pelvic region and hit his face with the other on his way towards the floor.

Recalling there were two offenders, I swiftly turn to see Louis completely subdued and enduring significant hits to the stomach. My instincts overpower my morals and common sense at this juncture. I grab a fist full of the lad's thick, blonde hair and slam his head against the locker. Before I'm attacked again, I shove Louis out of the line of fire and ball my fists, prepared to take on the boys again.

"Knew Louis' boy-toy would come to his rescue," The blonde snickers and lunges toward me again. I push him back and encounter another swift punch to the face. My tooth catches my bottom lip as a result and tears the skin from it. Blood immediately emits from my wound and I taste the metallic red liquid when I swear under my breathe. Even angrier, I turn and deliver another blow, not sure where it would land.

"Enough! Boys, enough!" The chirpy voice of a teacher chimes as she struts in between the two attackers and I. I'm inwardly grateful, as the first boy had regained his position and was about to come at me from behind. I realize I had hit the blonde's left eye when another male teacher grips both of my wrists and holds them behind my back. I numbly listen to slurs and swear words thrown at me from the crowd and the footballers as I'm dragged away. The only thing of remote import to me at the moment is whether or not Louis is okay.

I try to break free, desperate for one glance of reassurance that he isn't knocked out or badly injured, but I'm restricted and lead to the office. The man that forcibly escorted me not-so-gingerly pushed me into an armchair in the waiting area.

"Mr. Patterson will call you in soon. Just sit there and try not to be a nuisance for five minutes." He harshly spits before turning and ambling off to an unidentifiable destination.

I obey and take the opportunity of solitary to calm myself down. When my adrenaline subsides the agony in my face becomes more prominent. I pass my tongue across my dry lips and flinch when it reaches the part that had been split open by my teeth.

My attention is captured when Mr. Patterson, our principal that possessed a friendly demeanor and shockingly tiny build, appears in the room with an expression that seems to be a mixture of sympathy and disappointment. This wasn't exactly my first offense.

"C'mon back, Styles," he says, descends into his office again.

_

After explaining my side of the scenario and enduring a long, redundant speech about responsibility, I'm let off with a week of detention, including Saturday morning. I assume it's a better fate than what the two football players are going to receive. I eagerly escape from Mr. Patterson's office the second I'm permitted to and trek out of the area. Coincidentally, the bell rings almost immediately after I exit. With haste, I head for Louis' last class of the day and pray to all that is holy he's there and okay.

My heart falls further down when I see that Louis isn't there after waiting a few minutes. I ignore a few kids who try and stop me to ask about the fight, nudging my way through the crowd and search for Liam. A vague sense of relief washes over me when I reach him. His brown eyes possess a deep gleam of confusion and worry.

"Alright, Haz? I heard what happened,"

I nod, frantic. "M'fine. Where's Lou?"

"He's gone home early," Liam filled me in, pushing his fingers through his thin brunette hair. I curse to myself.

"Do you know if he's okay?"

"I've got no clue, all I've heard was rumors about what happened. Care to fill me in on the way over to Louis'?"

I mutter yes and travel to my locker to retrieve my skateboard. Once Liam and I are equipped to leave we head for Louis' house. I've only been once and I've never been inside. The thought of tapping on the mahogany door of the extravagant house gives me anxiety, but not knowing how Louis is is much worse.

_

"Hello, are you friends of Louis'?" A petite woman inquires after pulling the door opening. I nod, and Liam speaks on my behalf.

"Yes, ma'am, we don't want to take up too much of your time, but we just heard what happened and wanted to make sure Louis' alright."

The woman sizes me up with her hazel eyes and deducts, "It looks like you were involved in what happened."

I swallow hard and nod my head. "I'm Harry."

She grants me a small smile that didn't seem to hold my substance. I wonder with resounding fear if she knows that I have feelings for Louis. "Ah, yes, he talks very highly of you. I'm glad he has someone to defend him at school. I can't believe his mates on the team turned on him like that- this is why I try to tell my husband that sports are destructive and Louis so focus on academics." She shakes her head, unjustified.

I remember the amount of pressure Louis' parents press upon him and note that his Mum is about brain and his Dad is about brawn. I nod. She continues to speak.

"Children are so violent these days. You two can step inside and see him; he's up in his bedroom, sulking."

"And rightly so," I murmur to myself as Liam thanks her and we step inside. The warm scent of cinnamon slaps me in the face on entering. Everything appears so neat and orderly. We pass through two rooms before reaching the steps, both of which possess an intricate theme and expensive accessories.

As we climb the stairs, I study the wall. There are dozens of framed certificates and ribbons from various and extensive academic achievements where family photos are traditionally placed. I frown.

"Louis?" Liam's voice is inquisitive as he taps his knuckles against the white-painted door with 'Louis' written in wooden letters. An unsure reply comes from the other side.

I turn the knob with trepidation. He and I are still not on okay terms, and I'm not even sure why I'm doing this. I don't know why I can't be satisfied until I see that he's okay with my own eyes.

My posture slackens when I see Louis lying there completely coherent. Although he is sporting a hideously painful black eye, he seems to be himself. He grants Liam and I a shy smile as we step into the room. Liam pulls the door with him until it clicks shut.

"Alright, mate?"

"Yeah," Louis croaks, forcing himself to sit upright. "Are you okay, Harry?"

I give him a disinterested nod and wander my stare around the unkempt bedroom. The were articles of clothing scattered across the beige carpet, and more spill out of his wardrobe in the corner of the room. Half full and empty glasses and water bottles are strewn across this desk, wardrobe, and even the floor. His extensive collection of Vans are either with the pile of shoes adjacent to his bed or hidden underneath the shirts and things on the floor. Unorganized stacks of folders, papers, and binders sit on his desk. If my room looked anything like this, my mother would not let me eat until I did something about it. But, I would go mad and tidy it myself before she could say a word.

"Sorry my room's a bit... Dilapidated."

Liam chuckles, "I would've gone for 'looks like a tornado came through here' but that sounds far too matronly."

I avoid eye-contact with Louis as much as possible as he and Liam strike up a conversation about what happened to start the drama today. I'm in a sort of trance; listening, but not really absorbing. I wish I hadn't have come to Louis' house.

"Do you know why they jumped you, then?" Liam inquires. I'm a little surprised by his genuine concern, but I remember he hasn't got Zayn slapping him on the wrist every time he shows empathy anymore.

"They, uh- They tried to kick me off the team. Coach said hell no, 'cause I'm the best forward we've got, and they weren't exactly thrilled about that. I guess they were just getting their anger out." Louis explains. I steal a glance at him and notice he's holding his stomach as if it hurts. Visions of him being repeatedly punched flash through my mind.

"Is your stomach alright?" I mumble, apparently audible enough for them to hear. They were both a little caught off guard by me actually speaking.

Louis was blushing a little and he cleared his throat. "It's pretty bruised up but I'll bounce back."

Liam frowns. "Why did they want you off the team so bad?"

I watch Louis' cheeks turn even rosier. He shifts in his bed a little. "In their terms, 'Faggots belong in drama club, not on the football team'."

My heart flutters. Liam raises his eyebrows. "Wow. What douches... How did they know that you're... you know,"

Louis laughs a little. "Gay isn't a swear world, Liam. And I told them I was."

My heart swells with something, and I can't decide if it's pride, happiness, or annoyance. He came out on his own and told his team, knowing this kind of reaction would come. If he could do it now, why couldn't he do it when I told him I love him?

"Well I bet all twelve of your girlfriends feel awful."

"Yeah," Louis says, forlorn. "I was being a dick. I should've just been myself and not used people. I feel like such an asshole."

I scoff loudly before I can stop myself. Both heads turn to me, and I feel only slightly guilty for my sardonic reaction. I stand to my feet and stare down at Louis for a moment. He stares back and I've missed his blue eyes. And his button nose, his pink lips, his long lashes, his tiny hands. I don't know why I'm about to walk away.

"I'm glad you're alright."

I step towards the door but am stopped by Louis' voice beckoning me to stay for a moment. I don't turn to look at him again. If I did, I'd never leave.

"Thank you. For everything."

I believe in his sincerity. Every part of me wants to rush over by his side and press my lips against his. But I can't let myself give in.

"Don't thank me."

I walk out, and ride my skateboard home.

Dad had finally left after Gemma's birthday on Wednesday. Thankfully he was wordless on the subject of my fight at school. In fact, I wonder if Mum had neglected to enlighten him about it. I suppose it isn't any of his concern anyway.

Liam's told me about four times through a tedious soliloquy that I'm being childish about the situation with Louis. I love him, he loves me, he's trying to change, I'm not. I don't want to hear it. I want to get through the school year with no more drama involving Louis. It's bad enough I have to face him in class still.

The worse part of all this is how bad I miss him. I think about him now more than ever. Tiny details are so pertinent to me; the way he speaks, his laugh, the way skinny jeans show off his curves, his soft hair. It's like a vital organ was removed my from body, and I hate trying to function without it.

I can't let myself go to him. He hurt me, and while he's trying to make up for it, it isn't enough. Things don't just go away because you say so. Going public about his sexuality is only half of what I wanted.

I feel repentant for ignoring him, however. He always gives me these big, beautiful eyes that are pleading for forgiveness and I turn away everytime. I don't know why I can't forgive him, or at least try. Some fiber of consciousness is telling me not to when everything else is telling me to stop being so stupid.

Contrary to normality, Louis strides into class this morning looking particularly pissed off and doesn't spare me a glance. I shift in my chair and itch to ask him what's wrong, but I don't, and I don't think he would have answered if I did ask.

Throughout the period Louis does look at me every now and then. It isn't the same expression as usual; it's an almost hate-filled glare. I knit my eyebrows together when I catch him doing it again. He let's out a long exhale before rolling his eyes and turning away. I become highly indignant.

This exchange of less than friendly stares continues throughout the day. Anytime Louis and I are in identical classes, he stares daggers at me. It's getting annoying, really. Come end of the day, I approach him about it.

"What crawled up your ass and died?"

He appears vaguely caught off guard at first, but his expression turns to stone. "My love life. Thanks for dropping in, Styles, but I'd rather not be persecuted in the middle of the school building again."

Before he can walk away I make a point to gingerly grab his wrist and reel him back. He jerks away from me but I continue to press. "Why are you being sassy with me all of a sudden? The last time I checked I have been nothing but kind to you and it's okay to feel betrayed."

Louis sighs and shakes his head, face flushed. He's flustered but I won't stop until I'm satisfied. None of this is my fault and I don't deserve him glowering at me for the rest of the school year.

"You didn't even give me a chance to apologize for being an idiot."

I shrug. "Was I supposed to?"

"You said you loved me and you didn't even let me try."

"I do- I did love you. Don't try and make it out to look like I didn't."

"I'm not," Louis tells me crossly with perfect diction in his accent. He articulates more when he's angry. "You're the one that's making it look that way. Hell, you just corrected yourself before you said that you loved me."

"You're the one who didn't care enough about me to tell people you loved me, Lou. That isn't what love is."

Louis steps fairly closer and enters my personal space. He's so tiny, but he's actually a intimidating me. "You know what is love, Harry? Making mistakes, learning from your mistakes, and fixing your mistakes. I've done all three, and if you got on one knee and proposed to me right now I would leap into your arms and let you carry me off into the sunset while I scream to everyone how much I love you. I was scared of what other people would think, and I'm sorry. I am truly, truly sorry. But you have too much damn pride to forgive me. I know you think you're above everyone at this school, but you're just as petty."

My lips form a tight line as we fall into a glare-off. I feel like whacking him. "Think what you want."

Louis scoffs and backs away. "See? Too much pride to even admit that I'm right when you know I am."

"Fine," I spit, growing irate myself. "But I am not petty."

Louis laughs a little. For as wonderful as he can be, he can really make you want to choke him. "That isn't even the point. And, Harry, you've been actively ignoring me because I hurt your feelings. That's about as petty as you can get. The mature adult that you think you are would at least try to work things out with someone he cared about. Granted, I was being a total dick, but now you are."

I shy away, unable to produce any kind of backlash. All I feel is rage as I stare at the ground. I hear a sigh and feel a hand against my cheek. I peer up and find Louis' blue eyes full of sincerity.

"Listen; I love you, Harry. And I'll always wait around for you, because I'm not just going to wake up and get over you. You know there's something real between us. I don't need to prove myself anymore. I'm done trying so hard to get your attention. Let it be known; my heart is your's. Come claim it and stop being so pretentious."

With that, he struts away and leaves me with a headache.