TW: mention of death

I wake up way too early. It wasn’t much later than nine o’clock when we fell asleep yesterday and with all the sleep I got, I really am not tired anymore.

I also need a wee very badly. I try to keep it in as long as possible as not to wake Harry up, but after some time, I really can’t keep it in anymore.

I decide to get up as quietly as possible. I slip into my sneakers first and put on a jacket. It’s seven o’clock only and it looks as if it was really cold outside.

I slide out of bed completely and try to make my way through the bags, clothes and trash on the floor. It doesn’t work.

Halfway through the chaos, I step into something and it cracks rather loudly. “Fuck”, I whisper quietly and try to spot if I destroyed something.

I bend down and lift a shirt, just to reveal Harry’s backpack laying under it. The backpack he hugged so tightly as if it was an actual human being, the backpack he never threw into the back like he did with his bag.

Shit, what if there’s something fragile in it? It has to mean a lot to him, what if I broke something very valuable? Something made out of glass and now I stepped onto it? I lift it up from the floor, opening it to have a short glance inside, just to make sure.

I let out a relieved sigh because there’s a bag of crisps on top and I’m pretty sure the cracking was just me stepping on that. I already want to put it down on the floor again, when I spot a brown pot made out of clay.

Or rather, if you want to be precisely, an urn.

“What the-“, I say, a little too loudly, because Harry starts moving in bed and opens his eyes slightly. I want to drop the backpack immediately but realize that this time, I’d be destroying the stuff inside for sure. So instead, I just freeze, staring at him as if he caught me going through his stuff.

That’s what it has to look like for him for sure.

He doesn’t say anything when sitting up and snatching the backpack out of my hands, slipping into his shoes and grabbing a jacket before disappearing out of the van.

“Fuck off”, is all he mumbles and closes the door behind him again.

It’s all a little much at once. Trying to take in all of what just happened.

The urn. Him having to visit a ‘friend’ at the coast. Maybe it’s the actually reason for him having to get there. The sadness in his eyes, the obsession over getting to the south, the tears when he couldn’t get into a car. It all makes a little bit more sense now.

I sit down on the edge of our bed, burying my face in my hands, trying not to be overwhelmed. I brush through my hair with my hands once and stare up at the ceiling for a while.

I get why he’s angry. It must’ve looked as if I was looking through his stuff for sure. It’s something very personal too, for sure.

I sigh. Fuck, how do I make up for this again? How do I get him to listen to me. ‘Once I’m angry, I’m really fucking angry’, I hear him say and nod. Great, fucking amazing, really.

I don’t want him mad at me. I want us to continue this together, I want to tell him that I might like him a little, I want to peck his cheek and brush through his hair, I want to drive him to the south and I want us to go swimming in the sea together.

I open the door to look for him but he’s nowhere to be seen. I walk around for a bit but he’s not there, so I decide to finally go for a wee.

Back at the van, he’s still not anywhere. I just hope he didn’t walk back up the road. Fuck, what if he’s actually trying to get into some stranger’s car again? I can’t have him get murdered. I can't have him drive away and never see him again.

I chew on my lip a bit and lock the car before walking up that little path we drove down yesterday. If he’s really trying to get away, I’ll stop him.

It takes way longer to arrive at the main road than expected and when I arrive, he’s not even there. That means he’s either already gone or didn’t even want to leave in the first place.

I sit down at the side of the road for a little, staring at the road. Does that actually mean, he did this whole trip to scatter someone’s ashes somewhere at the coast? Does that mean all of my stupid jokes and question actually came across very offensive?

I groan and rip out some grass next to me, staring up into the sky before getting up again to make my way back down. It’s nearly eight by now and I realize he probably just needs some space, but I already can’t take this anymore. I’m extremely impatient and all I really want, is to explain.

I sit down in the van and text Liam, not telling him about any of this because I’m pretty sure Harry wouldn’t want anyone else to know about this. I chew on some really disgusting-tasting chocolate bar and wait for two more hours.

“For fucking fucks sake”, I blurt out and push myself off of the bed.

If he’s not coming back, I’ll try and look for him. I put on my shoes and a jacket, even a beanie because hell, it’s cold outside, before leaving again.

I walk right first. I walk for at least fifteen minutes before I give up. Harry wouldn’t have walked that far, would he? Then again, Harry is pretty weird and would probably walk around the whole lake once.

“Ugh”, I make and roll my eyes. The things I’m doing for this stupid boy.

I walk left next, following the small path along the lake. This time, I walk half an hour before I decide to give up. It’s his fucking fault then. If he wants to be all stubborn, I can be too.

Right when I want to turn back around, I see something pink a bit further. If I’m not completely wrong, Harry has a beanie in pretty much exactly that colour.

I’m not wrong. There he is, sitting on a big stone right next to the water, his backpack right next to him, throwing pebbles into the water, his knees pulled up to his chest.

I feel a wave of warmness washing over me when I see him. He’s wearing some big jacket over his sweater, his hair getting blown into his face by the wind. He looks as if he cried.

I frown and try to think of something to say now. “H?”, I ask, carefully, quietly but loud enough for him to hear.

He doesn’t turn around but by the way his shoulders tense up, I’m sure he heard.

“I walked a whole fucking hour for you. I never walk so much.”

He doesn’t react.

“Look, I’m sorry. I swear I didn’t go through your things.”

He throws another small stone into the water.

“I swear, I stepped on something and it sounded like something broke. I saw how important that backpack was for you so I was scared I destroyed something that’s very significant for you. It was only the bag of crisps that made that sound, but I promise, I’d never just look through your things.”

I see his shoulders trembling a little and then he’s burying his face in his hands. It takes me a moment before I realize he’s crying and another one to think about what to do now.

I step closer and sit down next to him. I’m not quiet sure whether it’s okay to just hug him now. Maybe he’s still mad. Probably.

“I’m sorry”, he blurts out between silent sobs, hugging his legs, trying to catch his breath.

“Hey, you got nothing to be sorry for”, I say and reach out my finger tips to touch his shoulder carefully.

He moves a bit closer and I take it as a hint, so I wrap my arms around him carefully. He buries his face in the fabric over my chest and keeps crying silently for a bit.

It’s an a bit awkward position we’re hugging in, but I keep my arms wrapped around his body anyways while he leans against mine sideways.

“I didn’t mean to, H.”

He nods. Wipes his eyes carefully while still staying curled against my chest. “I know. I believe that.”

“I looked for you. Thought that maybe, you left.”

He shakes his head and looks up at me through teary eyes. “Wouldn’t. But I can. If it creeps you out or anything. I can understand.”

“What?”

“If it creeps you out that I am carrying a fucking urn with me, it’s okay. I can leave.”

“Yes”, I say, “I heard you. Why exactly would it creep me out? It’s just ashes.”

I feel him tensing up again and realize how stupid that sounded so I quickly shake my head. “No, not what I meant. It’s not just ashes, I do realize that, H. I meant; I don’t know. It’s not creeping me out, okay?”

He nods. “I know.”

I’m not sure how long we stay like that, embraced, him trying not to cry but failing very now and then, wiping the tears away quickly with his hands.

“Thanks”, he whispers after some time, “For taking me with you and turning this journey with such a shitty cause into a fun road trip. I really appreciate it. You.”

“I didn’t do it for you. Not to sound mean, but I really just didn’t want to go alone anymore, I didn’t realize how sad that’d be.”

He laughs quietly. “Still. Thanks for even taking me with you in the first place when you really didn’t want to.”

“I’m just nice like that.” He laughs again and it makes me smile a little.

“Want to head back to the van, maybe? It’s pretty cold here.”

He nods and moves away from me a little, leaving the spot where his head leaned coldly. We both get up and walk the little path in silence, him in the front, turning around every once and then to see if I’m still there. I smile at him reassuringly every then and something about all of this is so weird and sad but special and cosy at the same time that all I really want is to hug him tight.

Once back in the van, we decide to drive for a bit more today. The day is kind of ruined already and we didn’t get enough driving done yesterday, so it’s the perfect opportunity.

Harry falls asleep after just half an hour of driving and I look over at him with a soft smile.

I grab a sleeping bag from the back while driving to cover him with it carefully. I hear him sighing in his sleep quietly and smile a little.

I try to focus on the street and stare at the road ahead of me instead of ever looking at Harry. That boy does weird things to my feelings and I’m not quite sure what to think about that.

I still feel bad about this morning. I shouldn’t have looked into the backpack at all, I could’ve thought about it and it would’ve been clear that it means something to him and is none of my business.

I wonder what happened. I wonder if he’ll ever talk about it more. I didn’t expect him to tell me anything today because we’ve known each other for a little more than a week only, but still, I’d  want to know more about him, get to know him properly.

I continue driving for at least four hours until I see a small sign pointing to a campsite a little further. It seems rather cheap but like a nice place to stay at, so I pull in.
Harry wakes up once I get back in the car after having paid for a spot to stay at for the night.

“How late is it?”, he asks, voice hoarse.

“Four. You slept pretty long, love.”

He smiles a little and nods. “Think I was exhausted.”

“I got us a place for the night. Hope that’s okay with you, didn’t want to wake you up, but I thought we both could use some proper rest.”

He nods with a small smile on his lips and I park the van a bit further under two big trees.

We climb to the back, folding the seats and spreading out our blankets and pillows before getting comfortable.

The weather is still shitty so it’s clear we’ll stay in the car for pretty much the rest of the day. “Do you think we can order some pizza?”, I ask, already looking for something online.

Harry shrugs and nods at the same time. “Sure, why not? We could pick it up at the road so it doesn’t really make any difference from when we’d actually order from a house, right?”

I nod and find a website of some restaurant nearby, scrolling through the menu.
“I’d like a margherita”, Harry says.

Once we’re done eating our pizza and getting ready in the restrooms, we get comfortable in bed, both tired despites having done nothing the whole day. We’re nothing laying on our sides, facing each other.

“Can I say something about today morning again?”, I ask, trying to be subtle about it.
He nods slowly and stares at his nails.

“I really am sorry, I didn’t mean to, but I invaded your privacy and it wasn’t my right to look into the backpack. It’s been bugging my the whole day and I really wish I wouldn’t have looked inside, even though I thought I was doing something good. I shouldn’t have done it.”

Harry just shrugs. “Louis, I told you it’s okay. I was pretty angry, but you explained and I believe you and it’s okay. I was the one lying to you the whole time so I don’t even have anything to be mad about.”

“You weren’t lying”, I say, “You don’t have to tell anything, especially not something so personal to a stranger.”

“You don’t feel like a stranger anymore, not at all”, Harry whispers and I smile softly before turning of the light.

“You don’t either, Harry.”
I turn around, smiling and slipping into my sleeping bag. We both shift around a little until we’re comfortable. “Goodnight”, I say, “Sleep well.”

“Goodnight.”

I’m already a little disappointed I didn’t get a ‘sweet dreams’ when I feel him moving a little closer, his chest pressing against my back now before he’s wrapping an arm around my waist loosely.

“Okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

And then I’m falling asleep, faster and better than ever.

~~~

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