xii.

                                    

                                          
a/n: lol sorry for the long wait, i was obsessed w my new kitten
I'm sorry if I don't respond to your comments, my notifs seriously blow up thanks to this and I really don't have the energy to go through hundreds of comments (old and new ones) so pls don't feel ignored or sum its just that this book is very popular lol (-S)
The next day, before his tutoring session with Louis, in which Harry had spent the majority of it wordlessly thinking about his past, his phone rings.
He'd been wondering about all the shit that went down from the day before and his shitty home life when the phone call happened. Which was, in a way, very ironic, as he'll soon find out.
He'd been thinking, most of the day, lots of thinking, particularly about Louis. Because what the fuck was that erratic behaviour about? It confused him. A lot. He didn't like it one bit. In a way, Louis did exactly what Harry wanted. 
(Well, back when he thought he could charm Louis.)
But, he doesn't want to charm Louis anymore, no, Louis following him like the rest of them just doesn't seem appealing at all, in some indescribable way, because Louis had shown him more colour in the world than any other source of comfort, which, yes, Louis has sort of become a comfort to him, almost, kind of. He wonders what Louis is doing right now, probably hanging out with Niall, laughing his ass off about the situation yesterday. Probably without a care in the world.
He really hopes Louis goes back to normal, or, well, his deluded sense of normal. 
He thinks about his childhood, a rare moment he dwells upon the past, letting trickles of memory slip through from the blockade he formed in his mind. It's scarce; very unusual, and he almost never thinks about his life while he's sober, but he thinks, for once. Just a little.
He thinks about Anne. About Gemma. Des. Barbara. Zayn. He pauses at the last, a little smile forming on his lips at the mention of his former best mate before his smile turns sour at the mention of 'former'. He really misses Zayn, and no matter how much he wished things could go back to the way it was before, he knows it never will. He knows he hurt Zayn too much. He just hopes he could find another best mate like him again.
He thinks about the entire incident. Barbara killing herself, Gemma abandoning him, Anne taking the money and leaving, and Des slowly descending ever deeper into the maddening depths of hell and insanity. He misses the old Des, the real him that would peek through occasionally. The one who cared for him. The one who let him mess around at the sound studio, let him sing into the mic and play guitar for him. The one who cared for him, the one who loved him. The one who didn't fuck himself up with coke and other drugs, until he was beyond inebriated. The one before he sent Anne away and drove Gemma away. Anne and Gemma. He misses them so much, but he can't think about them for too long, he needs to just stick to the positives, that he will contact them one day. He will make it through. He can do this.
The phone rings.
As he picks it up, his heart stops. It's from one of the people still searching for his father's body. 
He lets out a shaky breath, before clicking the green call button. His body tensed, going ridged, as he listens to the words being uttered from the other end. 
There was another potential place he could be at, and Harry was called in, again, of course. No Des yet.
As he stood up, ready to leave, he remembered about Louis. He was supposed to tutor him. His father could wait, for now, anyway, since he can't go anywhere. It wouldn't really matter if Harry got there sooner or later. Harry reluctantly sits back down, though he was itching to get out of his seat, wondering if this was another stupid mistake.