"Can we talk?"

I slammed my locker shut, spinning around on my heel to see Louis standing behind me, his hands awkwardly in his pockets.

"No," I said simply, turning to walk down the hall, though my shoulder was pulled back.

"We need to talk, Ana. You can't avoid me forever."

"Watch me," I began to walk again, making it a few steps down the hall this time before Louis caught up again.

"Ana, come on," he pleaded with me, "Ten minutes is all I need."

I blinked, shifting from foot to foot. "Where?"

"I'll buy you a coffee," he suggested, a smile spreading across his face - damnit. He knew I couldn't resist a cup of coffee.

I sighed in defeat, "Fine - but it'd better be a good one."

I followed him to his car, Anders nowhere to be seen - he hadn't been so happy I'd walked home the other day, and after a heated lecture from him - I told him not to bother picking me up; a statement I was easily beginning to regret - especially on the days where Harry wasn't there to walk me home.

I got into the passenger's seat of Louis' - well, his dad's - red Jaguar, and pulled out my phone. I composed a text to Harry as Louis started the engine.

: I'm getting coffee with Louis :/ are you at my place tonight?

A reply sounded a few minutes later, and I was thankful for the distraction from the awkwardly silent car ride.

: Tomlinson?? There's no way his company is as good as mine.

: I'm at home tonight, but I want to see you tomorrow.

I smiled down at my phone, Harry's bluntness enough to bring heat to my cheeks.

: Tomlinson, yeah. I want to see you too.

"What're you smiling at?" Louis' voice broke me from my trance, and I frowned.

"None of your business," I narrowed my eyes, shoving my phone back into my pocket.

"Geez, alright. Well - we're here, I guess," he frowned at the sharpness of my tone before stepping out of the car as I did the same.

Louis walked ahead of me into a small cafe I'd never seen before and I followed closely behind. We sat down at a small corner table, the chairs uncomfortable, causing me to shift awkwardly.

"We can go someplace else if you'd prefer," Louis's lips turned into a smirk at my discomfort, one that I immediately found myself comparing to Harry's. There was a time where I'd have thought Louis was the most attractive boy you'd come across, but now his smirk made me uneasy - Harry's gave me the right kind of goosebumps.

Louis was somebody I'd liked since I met him, and it was only in recent months I'd began to come to terms with the fact that he would only ever be a friend of mine, and I was okay with it.

And since Harry - he hadn't even remotely been on my mind.

"No, this is fine," I said simply, running my fingers over the menu. The waitress looked tired; bored, as she took my order - a flat white, Louis ordering a latte.

"I don't like coffee much," he chuckled, wrinkling his nose as the waitress walked away.

"I know," I said rather bluntly, and as his face fell, I wanted to kick myself for being so rude to him. He'd done nothing to me directly, and call me dramatic, but he certainly wasn't opposed to the way I'd been treated by Sadie and Jake.

Louis cleared his throat, shaking his leg awkwardly, "So I wanted to talk."

"Mhm," I mumbled in response, picking at a hangnail on my thumb, as he continued.

'I'm sorry, Ana. Really, I am," he said sadly, and I sat back in my chair as the waitress laid our coffees in front of us.

"Louis, I really thought you were better than that. I'm not blaming this all on you, but frankly - I don't know what to tell you. Thank you for apologising - seriously. It just sucks that you were such a good friend of mine, yet you were so willing to cut me off when Sadie and Jake told you to. But I haven't heard from you in weeks, not since Sadie made herself pretty clear," I rambled, stopping only to take a sip of my coffee, "so why now?"

Louis had been ignoring me for weeks. When I began talking to Harry, he'd reassured me that Sadie's anger would pass - instead it only intensified, and led to a heated confrontation about Harry's late best friend. The thought of what they'd done had only further fuelled my anger on Harry's behalf.

"What?"

"Why talk to me now?" I repeated, "You were pretty willing to ignore me before."

"I-I don't know, Ana. I miss having you around," he said quietly, and I could tell he meant it. Louis was never quiet; nervous - he was always so bold and forward.

I sighed, nodding my head, "I miss you too, Louis."

"Great," his face lit up for a moment, "So you'll hang out with us from now on?"

I bit my lip, "Are you forgetting that Sadie and Jake hate me? And I'm not exactly their biggest fan, either."

"I know, but that'll work out. And it's better than being on your own, isn't it?"

I frowned, setting my mug down, "On my own? I haven't been alone. I have Harry," I stated.

It was now Louis' turn to frown, "Harry Styles, hm?"

"Why do you ask?"

"You're choosing Harry Styles over us?" he glared across the table at me now, and I scoffed.

"That's not what I said, Louis."

"You like him now?"

"What does it matter?"

"So you do," he sat back in his chair, huffing.

"What right do you have to interrogate me? And so what if I do like him?" I snapped defensively, folding my arms as I attempted to lower my voice.

"Because I fucking like you, Ana. God, I like you so much," he growled, and I shook my head.

"Don't, Louis. Don't tell me that. You know about the huge crush I used to have on you."

"Yeah, I do. And I know that it wouldn't have just gone away," he said softly, reaching for my hand across the table. I let him grip it for a few seconds - two months ago I would've intertwined our fingers and let him kiss me; told him I liked him, too.

I drew my hand back, "Don't," I repeated, "Why are you doing this?"

"I don't want to see you with that Styles guy, Ana," he huffed, his frustration growing once more.

"Why not? What has he ever done to you? You're the one who-"

"You don't fucking know what he's done," he raised his voice, slamming his hand down onto the table, causing me to jump back, "He's crazy, that kid. You don't know who he was before."

"So tell me." I tried to sound confident, though I couldn't hide the confusion my tone held.

"After his mate killed himself, he was high as a kite," he snarled, "always fucking on some shit. Came to school drunk most of the time - all you had to do was look at him funny before he beat your fucking ass. He fucked every girl he saw, got caught with somebody in the janitor's closet more times than you can count. Harry Styles is the definition of a failure. A fucking sick mess," he concluded, and I furrowed my eyebrows.

"No. That's not Harry," I shook my head, glaring across at Louis.

"But it is. Your little boyfriend is a sicko."

"He's not my boyfriend."

"Damn right he isn't," he laughed - laughed, "Harry Styles doesn't date, Ana. You're fooling yourself to think so. He just sees you as a good fuck before he moves onto the next."

"That's a lie. He's changed," I argued weakly, but I already felt my hands shaking.

"I'll be damned if a guy like him could ever change. He just sees you for what you are - a body."

That was enough for me, as I reached across the table and greeted him with a hard slap across his face. His hand clutched his cheek, a burning look mixed of anger and embarrassment crossing his features as I stood up from my chair, spinning on my heel to storm out of the cafe without another word.

I could feel hot tears streaming down my cheeks as I bolted down the street, my legs taking me further than my mind could. He was lying - he was lying because he wanted me to choose him, not Harry. That had to be it. That wasn't Harry - I knew how much Caleb's death tore him up, but that wasn't him. It wasn't.

'He sees you for what you are - a body.'

'Harry Styles is the definition of a failure. A fucking sick mess.'

'Harry Styles doesn't date, Ana. You're fooling yourself to think so.'

Before I knew it I was pulling out my phone and typing a text to Harry.

: Where are you?

A reply sounded moments later.

: Home, like I said. What's wrong?

: I just need to see you. Address?

He replied soon after, and I read the address, recognizing the street. I found myself running towards it, tears continuing to stream down my face as I ran - my legs ached and I was long out of breath, but I didn't care. I needed to see him. I needed to see his face and remind myself of who he was.

I knocked on the door of the address he'd given me, and I knew even my absent-minded parents would be wondering where I was at this point, but I didn't care.

The door swung open to reveal Harry, black t-shirt, grey sweatpants, his hair messed up and untamed, and it was then I broke into tears again. Harry. The boy I'd come to know so well over previous months, not the boy Louis had spoken of.

"Whoa, whoa, Ana Grace, what's going on?" he said softly, pulling me gently into his arms as if I might break, his arms winding around me in the comforting way I'd come to know.

I couldn't open my mouth to speak as he held me, kicking the door shut behind us before leading me to his couch, sitting me down onto it carefully, before kneeling in front of me.

"Talk to me, Ana," he encouraged gently, his hands taking mine in his, "words, love."

I slowed my breathing, blinking back another set of tears threatening to fall, cursing myself for being so weak.

"W-Who.. Who are you?" I found myself asking.

His eyebrows furrowed, "What are you talking about?"

And it was then that I couldn't stop talking. I told him straight - everything that had happened with Louis, everything he'd told me about Harry.

Harry remained silent as I spoke, and when I finished he broke our eye contact, answering any questions I'd had. I knew he couldn't look at me when he lied.

"It's true," I said shakily, pathetically choking back a sob, "Harry, please - tell me that's not you."

"It's not me, Ana Grace. That's not who I am anymore."

"Anymore?"

"Hear me out, c'mon," he pleaded, his thumbs running over my hands, "When Caleb died.. it fucking crushed me, alright? It crushed me," he admitted, and he looked as if he was about to cry now. He'd acted so nonchalant about the whole situation since I'd found out.

"I didn't understand where I'd fucked up so badly, y'know? I didn't fucking understand how I couldn't keep my own fucking best friend alive. I mean, how pathetic does that make me? And Louis is right. I was drunk constantly, high even more often, and I fucked around with a lot of people - that was wrong of me."

I closed my eyes, exhaling deeply. I struggled to imagine Harry like that, I truly did.

"God, Ana, I was so fucked up," he continued, his voice barely a whisper, "I had a different girl every night and I'd wake up unable to remember a thing. I just didn't care. I'm not that person anymore. I know when to stop drinking, and I know I smoke and you hate it when I do but I just need something to hold it together."

"He told me you won't want me," I trembled, "that I'm just another body to you."

"Oh, Ana, you're so much fucking more to me, you have to know that by now," he continued to plead with me, his eyes meeting mine again.

I stayed silent, desperate to believe him, and even more desperate to push Louis' words out of my mind. I hated myself for being so bothered by this - Harry experienced a tragedy, and those ways were his coping mechanisms, despite what I think of them.

"I was so bloody scared before I found you, Ana. Everybody was," he watched me closely as he spoke, "terrified I'd end up in a ditch somewhere. I just know I need you in my life, Ana. You've fixed me, you're fixing me. I know you only met me months ago but I don't need time to know how much I fucking need you," he rambled, his hand settling on the side of my face as he remained kneeled in front of me, "I don't know what I'm doing here, Ana, I really don't. Fucking hell," he groaned, running a hand through his hair exasperatedly.

"Harry, you don't have to-"

"I don't know what you're doing to me, and it's so scary," he whispered, his thumb rubbing circles on my cheek, "and I just don't know.."

"Don't know what?"

"What this is. But I do know what I want, Ana. Fuck, I'll try cheesy if it just brings that smile of yours to your face; I'll dance like an idiot with you to your stupid record player that you love so much, and I secretly do, too. I want to make you laugh at absolutely nothing purely so I can listen to the sound, and I want you to think of me and smile," he reached to wipe my tear stained cheeks, wiping another I hadn't realised was falling, "I want to be different; better for you, and I never want you to cry because of me."

"Harry-"

"I know I can't give you what you deserve, Ana, but I want to. Fuck, I want to."

I could feel the butterflies arising in my stomach; ones I'd only experienced with Harry. Each and every single word he'd said lingering in my mind, the effects of them something I couldn't begin to describe.

I couldn't speak, I was far too stunned. I'd listened to every word, and I could tell Harry meant them - my point only proven as he gently tugged my face towards him, pressing his lips to mine. I parted my lips slightly, his tongue running smoothly over mine, the taste of tobacco and mint easily distinguishable on my taste buds. My hands drifted to the nape of his neck, the unfamiliar feel of Harry's lips and taste of his tongue clouding my mind, and the sensation of ecstasy something I'd yet to accept.

As he pulled away, I found myself desperate for his lips on mine once more, but I remained still, a smile finally pulling at my lips.

"I want you to," was all I could mumble as a smile mirroring my own broke out across his features.