Technically Sophomores

June 30, 2017; Harry

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Louis Tomlinson is in my bed right now. 

He's on the left side of my bed and I am on the right and I don't know if I can move because this is so surreal. It's happened before, obviously, but he's so close. It's scary.

I leave the room, though, because otherwise, I'd end up sitting on the bed staring at Louis the entire time he stayed asleep, and then when he woke up that'd be what he'd see and that's just creepy and unexplainable.

When I get downstairs to the kitchen I see my mother sitting conveniently on the chair closest to the entryway and staring at the doorway, as if she was just waiting for me to walk in. Which, knowing her, she probably was.

I nod formally to her, saying, "mother."

"Is Louis still sleeping?" she says.

"Oh, just jumping right in with the questions, are we?" I say sarcastically, grabbing out the carton of apple juice and a cup. "Yes, he is. I didn't know you knew he slept over."

"That's another thing, normally it's considered common courtesy to let your mother know before you invite a boy to sleep in your bed."

I sit in the chair next to her at the counter. "I know, I'm sorry. We went to get ice cream after school let out and then just adventured around, by the time we got home you were already sleeping."

"I know and it's okay, Harry. Just text me next time so I don't almost have a heart attack when I see you sharing a bed with a boy," she says, and I have an overwhelming surge of love for my mother.

"Okay, mum," is all I say, taking a sip of my apple juice and smiling to myself.

"So, about Louis..." she starts.

I groan. "Here we go..."

"How are things going?" she asks casually.

"What things?"

"Y'know... things. With Louis. And you."

"They're going," I tell her. "We're good friends."

"Harry, you shared a bed," she points out, sipping her coffee at the same time as I sip my juice.

"We do that a lot, mum. All the time, actually, and it's not that big of a deal."

"You're so codependent, though, it's almost like you're–"

"Don't say it–" I warn her, almost joking but really not.

"Dating," she finishes. "And on that topic, I can see the look in your eyes when you talk about him or think about him or see him."

I sigh and put my head in my hands. It's too early in the morning for this kind of discussion, yet here I am having it. "And what look is that, all-knowing mother of mine?"

"Love. Admiration. Love."

I groan again, letting my head drop onto my mother's shoulder rather than the table. I feel her wrap her arm around my shoulders and begin stroking my hair comfortingly. 

"I don't know what to do about it, mum! It's horrible, the way we talk and act around each other... I'm so crazy about him but he doesn't even notice! What more am I supposed to do?" I complain. "He's just so perfect and so everything and so Louis and I just want to be with him, mum. But Louis and I, we're friends, I know, and it's maddening and completely horrible. How the hell am I supposed to tell him that?"

And I don't pay attention to my rising vocal volume until I hear footsteps going towards the front door. I run away from my mother as quickly as possible after I do, though, because there's only one other person in my house.

"Lou?" I ask weakly, realizing that he definitely just heard at least a bit of what I had just said when he turns around and there's a tear running down his cheek.

"If you didn't want to be friends with me, you could've just told me that, Haz," he whispers hoarsely, and it breaks my heart.

"No, Lou, it's not like that at all–"

"Don't call me that."