Louis' POV

Harry is amazing still. He’s still the weird and adorable nerd I got to know him as.

I like him a lot. I can’t stay under the tree for too long. After half an hour or so of sitting there with him, I hear dad calling me. We’re having dinner.

I run there, hoping he won’t ask questions.

I can’t stop thinking of Harry’s curls. I want to ruffle through them.

He didn’t tell me why he couldn’t come last year. I didn’t ask because once we talked about it, his eyes got so dark, I knew it had to be something bad.

Harry smells a bit like cinnamon, peppermint and raspberries all together. It’s as weird as he is. I like it.

Dad is quiet while we’re eating.
“How was football?”, is all he asks.

“Good”, is all I say.

Lottie and Fizzy talk for all of us. I’m so lucky to have them. They keep my dad calm most times.

When he looks into their eyes, he sees laughter, happiness and perfection. He feels like cuddling them.

When he looks into mine, he sees disappointment, fail and hate. He feels like punching me.

I can’t blame him, can I? It’s not normal, being gay. It’s wrong. I’m wrong and I know that.

I can’t change it though.

Sometimes I wonder whether if Harry knew, he’d think it’s wrong too. I’m not sure if he’s thought about his sexuality, ever.

I don’t know if he thinks about anything else than space.