Monday came around far quicker than anybody would've liked - the dreary sound of my alarm echoing through my room far too soon. The day dragged on, lunch finally coming around, and Harry was nowhere to be seen - great.

I'd yet to see Louis, and I counted myself lucky for that, as I wandered awkwardly into the lunchroom, unsure of what to do with myself - for the first time in months - I was alone.

"Anastasia, hey!"

I spun around, unsure of where the voice was coming from, to find two girls at a table nearby, one waving excitedly at me. I bit my lip, glancing over to the table where Sadie sat, a smirk plastered on her face, before I put on my best fake smile, heading over to their table.

"Hey," I set my tray down, now registering them as the twins who sat front row in Math - Tiffany and Tasha, "Uhm - you can call me Ana."

"Oh, well - Ana, we just figured since you were alone, you could do with some friends to sit with!" she exclaimed, her voice loud enough to make me jump. God, Harry would hate this girl.

"Tiff, not so loud," her twin mumbled from beside her, pushing her fries around her plate. I presumed she was Tasha, "I doubt she wants the whole world knowing she was on her own."

"Oops! My bad," Tiffany snorted, and I already felt myself hating this girl, and my impatience growing.

I just nodded, looking down at my tray and immediately regretting my decision to take their offer and sit down at their table - I wasn't so opposed to any friends, but I could feel my discomfort increasing as Tiffany watched me closely.

"So, why were you on your own?" Tiffany asked invasively, and I raised an eyebrow as her sister shoved her shoulder, clearly thinking the same as I was.

"My friend isn't here today," I said simply, taking a bite of my fry.

"Who- Oh! That Harry guy, right?" she pushed, and I nodded, "so he's your boyfriend?"

I shook my head. Harry wasn't my boyfriend - we'd been on one date, and yes - we kissed a little more often than friends did, but - we weren't dating.

I found myself wondering about what a relationship with Harry would be like - being able to kiss him publicly, hold him, proudly claim him as my own - it was a foreign one to say the least, and I had yet to desire a legitimate title for Harry and I - he was just Harry.

I knew Harry had never been in a relationship - I didn't know if I loved or hated that; the reasons behind it - definitely not, but for someone who hadn't, he didn't exactly mistreat me.

"He's single?!" she shrieked, snapping me from my thoughts, and I felt myself wincing again, people turning to look at us irritatedly, clearly disturbed by the volume of her voice. Be nice, Ana, she invited you to her table.

"Sure is," I replied in attempts to sound as nonchalant as I could, taking a drink from my bottle of water as Tiffany continued rambling, her twin looking just as unamused as I was.

"He's so hot - I was telling Tasha the other day, we never see him at parties anymore - not for a couple years now," she explained, and I chose to ignore how she'd called him hot, and I didn't fancy looking like a total psycho who freaks out at somebody calling her friend hot, "It really does suck - god only knows what I'd do to him after a couple of drinks-"

"That's enough, Tiff," Tasha said from beside her, noticing how I was shifting in my seat with discomfort.

"Sorry, I just-"

"I just remembered," I stood up from my seat, grabbing my tray, "I have somewhere to be.. It was nice to meet you guys." I walked a little too hastily away from the table, dumping my tray where I needed to, and rushing to my locker. I had free periods this afternoon - ones I knew would be no fun without Harry, and so I wasn't particularly obliged to going - at least, not in my mind. I would grab my bag, and go home. The hallways were discarded, everybody in the cafeteria for lunch, presumably.

"Ana Levin," a sneer sounded from behind me, and I groaned internally, shutting my locker and turning around.

"Louis," I mumbled, tugging my bag onto my shoulder with attempts to head for the door, only to be blocked by his frame.

"Where's your boyfriend, then?" he asked bitterly, and I narrowed my eyes.

"Not here, clearly," I huffed, preparing to walk around him again before I was stopped.

"So, he is your boyfriend now - I didn't sense any denial."

"Sure," I said sarcastically, "I'm leaving."

"As you wish," an obnoxious smirk across his face as he looked me up and down, "but when you next see that little boyfriend of yours - tell him we need to talk."

"I doubt he has anything to say to you," I snapped, becoming more and more infuriated by this new attitude of Louis'. I had been so used to his acts of kindness; how calm and gentle he was, and despite his popularity; he'd always tried to avoid trouble and confrontation.

"Well, I have plenty to say to him - so once he gets his shit together.. he knows where to find me," he spoke bitterly, "and tell him he knows what'll happen if he doesn't." I let out another sigh before finally making my way around him, storming down the hallway.

I was barely out of the door before I heard my name called once more, only slightly glancing over my shoulder as he spoke.

"Make sure that boyfriend of yours is taking great care of that body."

I scoffed, a shiver running down my spine at his measly comment as I stormed out of the doors, and straight onto the sidewalk. 

He knows what'll happen if he doesn't. What the hell does that even mean?

Harry's place wasn't far from here - I could be there in minutes.

I raised my hand to knock on the door, only to notice it ajar, the lights on inside. I blinked - was Celia home? No - she would be at my house.

"Harry?" I called, turning the corner to the small hallway. Faint voices sounded from the door at the end of the hall, and I instinctively headed for it, repeating his name as I did so.

I pushed the door open, "Harry-" I took sight of him, curled up in his bed, a small TV on the wall blaring the voices I'd heard. His curls were stuck to his forehead, the duvet pulled up to his chin where his arm hung over the material, his eyes meeting mine sleepily.

"Hey, baby," he croaked, causing my heart to flutter. He nodded for me to come over to him as he lazily let his head hit the pillow again, while I took a seat on the edge of his bed. 

"Your front door was open," I told him, and he shrugged, muttering something about how he must've forgotten to lock it.

"I'm not very well," he announced, sending me a weak grin while I nodded.

"I can see that, H," I chuckled as his hand reached for mine.

"You ditched seventh period?"

"Yeah, I didn't see much point in staying," I explained as he nodded.

"I'm a bad influence on you," he chuckled, reaching for the pack of cigarettes beside his bed, "having you ditch school and all that."

I frowned, "should you be smoking when you're so sick?"

"Don't worry about that, Ana," he smirked, his voice still weak, as he lit the cigarette, placing it between his lips, "so what did I miss?"

"Nothing important," I lied, rubbing my thumb over his jagged palm, "I made some new friends today." Not really.

"Oh, you've replaced me already?" he teased, "'m heartbroken, Ana - do I know them?"

"I don't think so - you'd hate them," I said honestly, and Harry burst out laughing.

"Anything else?"

"Louis is back," I wrinkled my nose at the thought of our confrontation.

"Oh, he is?" he took a drag from his cigarette, the smoke blowing easily from his dry lips as he coughed a little - the nicotine doing his sore throat no favors, "I forgot he was coming back."

"I literally mentioned it to you yesterday."

"I have more important things to worry about than that dickhead," he retorted, and I hummed in response, causing Harry to frown, "What's he done, then?"

"He talks a lot," I chuckled as Harry's frown deepened, "typical Louis stuff."

"That's all?"

I bit my lip, "'said he wants to talk to you about something, and that you'll know where to find him."

Harry groaned loudly, taking another smoke before stubbing out the tube in an ashtray beside his bed, "what kind of fuckery is that? I don't have a clue where that Yorkshire prick will be."

I shrugged, "I don't know - just said you'd know."

He huffed, before dragging his hand exasperatedly over his face and into his hair, "Oh, fuck me. Right, I'll go see the bastard tomorrow," he broke into another coughing fit, waving me off when I tried to get up to grab him a glass of water.

"You know where to go?" I frowned, confused at his sudden surety.

"I'll have to figure it out, won't I?" he said irritatedly, covering his face with his pillow again, "I feel like I got hit by a bus," he whined, his voice muffled by the pillow.

"Don't tempt fate," I chuckled, as he reached for my wrist, tugging me over to him. He buried his face in my neck, another whine leaving his lips as he pressed his hot forehead to my skin, his curls tickling my jaw.

"Maybe I'm so bloody ill because we always get rained on," he mumbled, his voice gravelly as he clung onto my shoulder, his arm thrown lazily over my stomach.

"I'm not sick, though,"I stated, "so don't get me sick with your detachment issues," I teased, as Harry chuckled lowly against my skin.

"Why not? You deserve to feel my pain," I could feel him grinning weakly into my neck, and I laughed.

"No way."

"Kiss it better, Ana," he whined, his curls tickling my jaw as he turned his head up to look at me, his gaze soft.

"I can't kiss your sickness away."

"You can try," he grinned widely, puckering his lips playfully.

"Nope," I chuckled, "I will not end up sick because of you, Harry."

"Help me," he dragged out the words, trying to pull my chin to him as I did my best to fight his grip.

"No!" I laughed, trying to wriggle from his grip, but he held me tightly in place.

"You better fucking kiss me right now, Ana Grace," he pinned my arms down, firmly holding me beneath him, now.

"Never!"

"I'll kiss you then," he said simply.

"Don't get me sick, Harry," I groaned, and he rolled his eyes, immediately telling me that he couldn't care less.

"Fine," he sulked, dipping his head down to pepper kisses my jaw, to my cheeks and then my forehead, pressing a final kiss to my nose.

"That still counts," I said pointedly, and he chuckled, moving to lay beside me again.

"Nah, I didn't kiss you-kiss you," he shrugged, "but you've got my germs all over your face now anyway. That was just a loophole."

"Harry!" I squealed, reaching to hit his chest playfully, as he pretended to be in pain.

"Hey!" he spluttered in protest, his laughter continuing, "don't beat me up - I'm battered enough."

"I hate you."

"That's not what you say to somebody you want to come back to school with you tomorrow, now, is it?"

"That's if I'm not sick," I glared at him, and all he did was grin.

"I'm awfully sorry, Ana," he mocked a British accent far fancier than his own, "will you ever forgive me?"

"Definitely not," I tried to stand up repeatedly, only to be tugged back down onto the mattress by Harry's much stronger grip.

And in that moment - Louis and his empty threats didn't matter one bit.