Louis began sorting his thoughts, desires, and wonders into words. His room was so silent you could hear only the nib of his favorite black-inked pen scratching across paper and the brush of his forearm against the smooth wood of his desk. Dim pools of light seeped through the open window beside him, highlighting the almost-blank page before him.
He had no ideas, no inspiration, no thoughts worth committing to ink. His mind reached for something to focus on, something to pour his energy into. His eyes wandered around the room, even something small would do, just to fill the time.
Though Louis felt tired, he didn’t need sleep. He was *always* tired, so it wasn’t new or concerning. He remembered a time when he’d been brimming with life, barely a day passing without him going outside, appreciating every small detail in his perfect little suburb. Now, he’d lost interest—not just in that, but in almost everything that once brought him joy. These days, everything just felt pointless.
The sunrise, still hidden behind the hill beside his house, caught his attention. Liquid sunlight filtered through the gaps in the leaves and branches of the tree atop the steep hill. It was honestly one of the only things he still found beautiful in a world he felt increasingly trapped within.
He focused on the tree. The colors blended seamlessly, stirring a flicker of something akin to excitement—not for anything specific, but simply hope that he could still find beauty in something as minuscule as a tree on a hill surrounded by familiar streets.
Louis huffed, noticing the ominous dark clouds hovering on the outskirts of town like a silent warning that had crept into the sky while he was lost in thought. Though he had no plans to leave his small, messy bedroom—usually spending his days listening to vinyls he’d collected over the years or reading peacefully by the window—he felt a twinge of disappointment nonetheless.
His parents, of course, disapproved of his habit of never setting foot outside. They thought it absurd and unhealthy. Louis had long ago learned to ignore their concerns. His parents might intend to help, but their efforts felt like pestering. The last time they’d tried to assist, their intentions were selfish and misguided.
Louis sat on the little window seat, a pentagon shape that jutted out from the wall. The windows were tall, reaching to the ceiling, letting more of the fading sunlight spill through.
He pulled an old, worn cardboard box from under his desk, filled with vinyls his dad had given him for his tenth birthday—the day Louis developed his passion for collecting them. He simply enjoyed the raw sound of music from a record player.
His taste ran the gamut, from obscure tracks known only to a few to the songs played endlessly on the radio.
Louis weakly placed the box beside him, his fingers flicking through countless records until he settled on The Beatles. Finding the album, he let out a small sound of triumph—almost surprising himself with the burst of happiness. Music had that effect on him.
He pulled the first record from its white cover, emblazoned with the grey words "The Beatles," and placed it on the turntable. He leaned back on his window seat, and as the needle settled into the vinyl, his eyelids fell shut, his head resting against the wall beside the window.
*Martha My Dear* was one of his favorites. As it played, he felt less hollow, the music calming yet cheerful. He had a particular fondness for the song. When he first heard it, he was going through a dark time he hadn’t believed would ever end, but he found comfort in hearing it, coming from a man he’d idolized since childhood, urging him to lift his head, to carry on, to remember him. The White Album was one of his first musical experiences, his dad playing it nearly every day.
Martha my dear though I spend my days in conversation Please Remember me Martha my love Don't forget me Martha my dear
Hold your head up you silly girl look what you've done When you find yourself in the thick of it Help yourself to a bit of what is all around you Silly girl
As the album continued, his eyes remained shut, and for the first time in days, he drifted into sleep.
---
Louis jolted awake at the sound of light knocking on his bedroom door. He realized he’d fallen asleep and sighed deeply. When he turned his gaze to the door, he found Niall poking his head through the frame, hesitant to disturb him.
“Alright mate, come on in, I was just napping,” Louis smiled groggily. Niall sat on Louis’ messy, unmade bed and grinned expectantly.
“So are you gonna explain the unexpected visit or—”
“Have you been out lately?” Niall asked, cutting him off. Louis raised an eyebrow. “Well, not really I—”
“Come with me,” Niall interrupted again. Louis considered making an excuse—claiming an allergy to sunlight—but he’d already used that one, and it had resulted in Niall playfully hitting him square in the face. He resigned himself to following without another word.
When they were outside, he noticed the dark clouds had completely overtaken the sky. Louis assumed Niall would be rational and stay inside, but his assumption proved incorrect.
“S’ gonna rain,” Louis mumbled as Niall picked up his bike, chained to Louis’ fence.
Niall shrugged. “Oh well. Come on, get your bloody bike.”
Louis huffed dramatically but went to retrieve his own bike, left on the ground beside the house. It was rusty and old from lack of use, but it would have to do.
Niall waited expectantly, his excitement betraying him. As Louis stood beside him, Niall took off without warning. Louis swung his leg over the seat, balancing the tips of his worn sneakers on the pavement, and glanced back at his house as it disappeared behind him.
Louis tried to ask Niall where they were going, but he only replied with “You’ll see.” He hadn’t been fond of surprises, but since it was Niall’s doing, he wasn’t overly concerned.
He realized where they might be heading. The oval not far from his street, where they used to kick a ball around whenever they were bored—something he genuinely missed.
Niall dismounted and pushed his bike toward the gate, locking it against the fence. Louis did the same. They jumped the gate as they always had, and Louis noticed the soccer goals and the ball in the center of the oval. They hadn’t been there before. The white paint was fresh, smelling of exhaust fumes and spring meadow. The grass was a vibrant green, clearly well-nourished and freshly cut.
“Race ya to the ball,” Niall grinned, sprinting toward it. Louis’ face lit up, and the two of them fought for possession, kicking the ball toward each other’s goals.
Louis jumped into the air, whooping and throwing his arms up as he kicked the ball into the net. He hadn’t felt this much exhilaration since the holidays started. Niall had been away on vacation for most of it, leaving him feeling alone and isolated.
“You know school starts again next Monday,” Niall informed as they sat together on top of a hill overlooking the oval and the town. Rain began to spit, but neither Niall nor Louis seemed to mind.
“Yeah,” Louis huffed, a dry laugh escaping his lips. The holidays had been lonely, but he didn’t want to return to school, surrounded by loud, obnoxious teenagers. It was a catch-22.
“I missed you, bud,” Niall ribbed. Louis wrapped his arm around his shoulder and grinned. To say he missed Niall would be an understatement. He’d texted him constantly about how boring it was without him.
“Missed you too, Nialler.”
“How was your holiday without me?” Niall teased, wiggling his eyebrows.
“If you call never leaving your bedroom for anything other than buying more records for six weeks a holiday, then it was great.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t all bad, Tommo,” Niall laughed, giving him another shoulder hug. Louis rolled his eyes but leaned into Niall, staring at the dampening field.
Niall suggested they head home, and they did, laughing as they left mud trails on the pavement. But as they rounded a corner, Louis ran straight into someone coming the other way. He noticed a boy let out a yelp, and realized he’d bumped his bike into him.
“Sorry, sorry,” Louis stammered. He looked up to meet big, green doe eyes, pale milky white skin, lips bitten red from the cold, and a strong jawline. Curls spilled across his forehead, coiled tight at his ears and loose elsewhere. Louis couldn’t help but blush under the boy’s gaze.
“Don’t worry, ‘s’alright,” the boy laughed, dimples forming in his cheeks. Louis couldn’t believe he was mentally screaming at how adorable the stranger was.
“Hey, sorry about that,” Niall smiled politely at the boy. “We weren't looking.”
“All good man, just really hurt my toe,” he joked, breathless.
“Uh, sorry again.” Louis didn’t know what to say to the boy, didn’t know why he was so intimidated. He was literally rendered speechless.
“Hey, it’s fine, I promise.” The boy held an intense gaze, making Louis feel weak, forcing him to remind himself to blink—and breathe.
“Louis and I gotta head home,” Niall said. Louis thanked him silently for being oblivious. “I’m Niall, by the way.”
“Harry,” the boy said, his eyes flickering between the two of them, his expression turning almost emotionless.
“See you around.” Louis started to walk past him, but his eyes remained on Harry’s unreadable face.
“Hopefully,” Harry sent him a small smile and turned away, continuing on his way.
Niall and Louis fell silent as they continued walking with their bikes, Louis trying to quell the blush staining his cheeks while Niall remained blissfully unaware. Louis often wished Niall wasn’t so naive.
Louis and Niall stopped outside Louis’ house, the air crisp and the dark clouds growing darker.
“Will I see you this weekend or on Monday?” Niall broke the silence. Louis shrugged.
“Don’t know, I’d rather not be alone ever again now that you’re back,” Louis explained. Niall smirked and nudged him playfully.
“Naw, hope you didn’t miss me too much,” Niall teased, wiggling his eyebrows. Louis rolled his eyes, ignoring him and waving goodbye.
Louis let his bike fall where it was, not caring about its state. He’d probably get a new one anyway. He kicked off his shoes before entering the house, mentally bracing himself for his mother’s reprimand. He didn’t want to deal with anyone right now. He felt too lightheaded, his chest aching, as if his lungs were on fire. He assumed it was from lack of exercise.
Louis almost collapsed on his bed, feeling a pain bloom in his chest since he’d been out with Niall. He wanted to rest. He pulled the covers over himself, not bothering to change his clothes, and tucked himself in. He didn’t want to move, noticing his head throbbing and the pain deepening in his chest.
He closed his eyes, hoping sleep would rid him of the pain. Little did he know, it was far more than a fever.