Remember to Forget Me

*Book one of the Remembrance Trilogy* "I love him, Niall," I say through my tears. "I just don't understand why he's so mean one second and then perfectly loving the next." "I know, mate- he does it to me, too. I always thought it was because he hates my family, but I'm not sure anymore," Niall tries to comfort me, pulling my sobbing and gangly body into his embrace. "It'll get better, I prom-" "He has a right to know, and I'm telling him. No more excuses, mate. You're losing him, and I am so not going to deal with what you'll turn into if you lose him," Niall and I hear Zayn say, coming down the stairs in Niall's house and walking to us with the boy in question trailing behind him. "Please, Zayn! I'll tell him- just please don't! I promise I'll tell him this month!" "No, you'll tell him in the next three days," Zayn demands, turning back to face the boy tugging on his sleeve. "Okay, okay... Just please don't tell him now." "Fine, but I'm going home, and don't even think about talking


3. Chapter III

{Louis' POV}
"He was really okay?" I ask Zayn, who’s setting up a row of futbols on the penalty box lines for me to shoot.

"Yes, Louis! He was fine! He walked out with your sister for Christ's sake. He might end up deaf, but other than that he's fine," Zayn says, sounding irritated.

"My sister? What sister and where did they go?" I blurt, feeling anger rise in my throat.

“Uh, he took Lottie home…” he trails off.

“What? Why? He’s going to find out, and then tell the whole school I’m brothers with a loser! What was Lottie thinking? I’m going to rip her hair out of her fucking head!” I scream, absolutely livid.

“Hey, hey! Calm down,” Zayn yells as he pulls my wrists together behind my back and shoves me to the ground. “When you calm down, I’ll let go.”

“Zayn, get off of me!” I scream, louder than before. How could Lottie do this to me? Why would Lottie do it to me?

“Louis, no- not until you've settled down.”

“I swear to God, Zayn; if you don’t get off of me I’ll…” I trail off, too agitated to even make out what I’ll do.

“You want to be able to talk to Harry, right? Well, I’m not letting you anywhere near him unless you can control this. So shut your eyes, count to fifty, and imagine you’re somewhere calm and safe. As soon as you are I’ll be off of you,” he says, still holding my wrists together tightly with his knee pressing into the small of my back to keep me on the ground.

The mention of Harry hits a nerve and even though I’m still practically steaming with anger for Lottie, I force my eyes shut and take a deep breath. I count in my head as I see myself in a big black jumper with white snow surrounding me. It’s my favorite dream; I bring my husky out to the snowy part of England in the dead of winter and I spend the whole day running around in the trees with her.

“Okay, I'm fine,” I say once I've evened out my breathing and my mind is clear. I realize I've gone all the way to seventy-five instead of just fifty on my counting.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, I'm fine, but I'd be exceptionally grateful if you’d so kindly get off of me, please,” I say, still taking deep breaths to keep myself calm.

He rolls off of me, and I watch as he stands up. I don't particularly want to move, so I just compromise and roll to lay on my back. We stay quiet for a bit before he takes off running toward one of the ten or so futbols he set up, and kicks it with practically perfect form. It's a magnificent chip shot, and it slides in easily in the very corner of the right side of the goal to the top. No keeper could've stopped that.

"Tell me again why you didn't try out for the team?" I ask, hysterically laughing as he throws his hands up in the air and runs in circles screaming with excitement.

"Because of you. I have to deal with your sorry arse enough as it is- I don't need two extra hours every day," he chuckles out. I let out more air than usual as well as I finally decide to stand up.

"What time is it, you jerk?" I ask, still slightly giggling. 

"It's close to five-forty-five," he answers. "You want to pack up and head that way?"

"Might as well. Last time I was out late my mum practically flipped a cow when I finally did go home. So much for 'sneaking' in on that night," I explain, and then I start kicking the balls at the storage shed. Since I'm varsity captain the coaches gave me a key to the shed so I can get to the balls and things in case they're late to practice. I only really use it when Zayn and I want to play around on the fields and we forget to bring a ball, though.

"Hey, Louis?" Zayn asks, catching my attention away from kicking another ball.


"Could I crash at your place tonight? I don't want to drive all the way home. It's going to rain again soon and it'll be dark, too, and I'm seriously about to pass out because I haven't been sleeping enough. I don't want to drive like that," he explains. 

"As long as you don't steal my underwear again," I answer, starting to laugh so hard I almost piss myself. 

"That was one time!" Zayn screeches, barely audible to me over my laughter.

"Whatever you say, mate," I agree sarcastically.

"Just hurry up and lock the shed, you arse, and I'll bring the Jeep around," he explains while smiling, and then jogs off in the direction of the parking lot. I'm half thankful he decided to leave me alone because I can have time to just think. So, as I shove the first out of two locks on the shed after throwing the white and orange balls inside, I think of today and how I had pissed Jason off.

Jason has always been a bully since I first met him, and, personally, I really don't care for him all that much. He's a horrid person, and that's the reason I had basically saved Harry from getting a beating from him, right? I didn't tell Jason off because he was hurting my beautiful and innocent Harry, did I? That wasn't the reason, was it? And Harry isn't mine! He's just one of my stepbrother's stupid friends... He's a random second year...

If that was really the case, why would just the sound of someone saying his name be able to silence me? Why would I stop haunting you whenever he's near you? I hear in my head, and I cringe.


I had gone a whole day without that stupid voice, so why did it have to come back now? Why when I was finally happy and having a semi-okay day? It just wasn't fair.

Oh, nothing's fair, Louis. You should know that by now. 

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I pull it out of my bag as I stuff the shed key into the same pocket I took the phone out of. I start walking toward the same direction Zayn went, and I unlock the phone to see the text message.

The text is from a random number, but somehow I know it's Harry. I involuntarily smile as I read:

Hi... So I need the homework from today. Could you tell me what it is, please?

I reply with the answer to his question, but I also say that I'm sorry for yelling at him after I had defended him from Jason. I get a text back almost instantly.

It's fine, and thank you for the homework.

 I reply with:

And thank you for taking Lots home today. It was very nice of you. I hope she didn't talk you to death, though.

I reach the parking lot just as Zayn drives up in his black Jeep Wrangler and I throw my stuff into the back seat as I climb into the passenger's. I'm not tall enough to just slide in, and, like always, Zayn stifles a laugh at my shortness.

"Shut up, ya' giant," I joke, smiling.

"Didn't say a word," he says as he puts his hands up in an 'I surrender' kind of gesture.

My phone goes off again, and I look down and read:

She was nice, and it was getting cold and rainy. I just didn't want her getting sick, and I also understand what having to walk in the rain is like. But anyway, I have to go... Bye. Thanks again for the homework. Have a nice evening.

I don't reply. I just throw the shiny iPhone into the center console and run a hand through my hair as I watch the trees go by.

"What's going on? You're sad, but I can't tell about what," Zayn inquires, and I sigh. He's been my closest friend for years; I can't lie to him, and we both know it.

"Harry," I reply simply, but there's far too much emotion in the one simple word.

"Louis, you have got to make your mind up about the boy. I'll support you either way, but all of this daydreaming shit is getting old. It's not healthy."

"I just don't know about the mental stuff to... you know... I don't know. I like him, but I don't. Just give me time," I explain, fully knowing that I made no sense at all.

"You said that four months ago at the beginning of the year, Lou. I did give you time- now it's time to make a choice."

"What if I end up hurting him?"

"He can deal with it, Lou; he's a strong person, but you'll have to tell him so he'll understand, okay?"


"I know, I know, but you're going to have to tell someone eventually, right? Why not start with him?"

"You know what happened the last time, Zayn! How am I supposed to chance that happening again?"

"Do you really think Harry would do that to you?"

"Well..." I trail off, looking down at my hands as I pick at my nails.

"Do you?"

"Not really- no."

"Then do it. Risk it all, Lou. You've only got one life. Try to love again. Don't let your future be ruled by your past."

"He probably thinks I hate him, though," I say.

"Well then text him, talk to him, get to know him, and let him get to know you. Show him that you're a good person. Show him that you're nice and you're not some ignorant, rude fourth year."

"How am I supposed to do that? I'm really kind of a dick, you know."

"Oh, please! You're a baby at heart. You even cry when we watch Nemo," he chuckles. I slap his shoulder as I smile at the memory.

"My eyes were watering because I got popcorn in them!" I try to convince him.

"Oh, sure; I totally believe you."

"It's the truth!"

"Whatever you say, Tommo. Now grab your phone and text him. Most importantly- be nice."

"Fine," I agree as I pick the silver object up again. I look at the lock screen for a moment before I unlock it; it's a picture of Zayn, my mum, El, and myself all standing beside each other with our arms in the air. That was one of the best days of my life.

"What am I supposed to say?" I ask suddenly, pushing the memory to the back of my mind.

"Just say something like, 'hey, so I was wondering if you'd like to talk with me for a bit?'" he suggests. I nod, type the message out, and then send it. I trust Zayn, and if he says that he wants me to try, well... I'll try. I owe it to him.

It can't end up being that bad, can it?

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