Coming Home

"You're mad," it's not hard to tell. Not when Ben's slamming every drawer and door closed.

"I'm not mad baby," Ben sighs dejected. "You just-- you make it so hard sometimes."

That I don't doubt. "I'm trying Ben."

"I know you are," Ben slams the freezer's door closed and turns. "I'm frustrated, okay? I don't know what else I'm supposed to do to make you see clearly. Harry's not the same person from a year ago, and he's engaged."

"I know but--"

"No," Ben says before I can finish. "No buts. He's engaged Presley. That's not something you take lightly. He's engaged and committed. He's not looking to stick around with you. He's not here for you." I don't need to be reminded of that. "I feel fucking cruel saying this, but someone has to. I'd rather it be me, then someone else."

I don't know what to say. It feels different when I'm the one who's thinking about it. When it seems like I'm the only one who knows its happening. But this is Ben and hearing it come from him, makes it real and it makes it feel like an open wound that has been opened again.

"I'm sorry, baby." Ben shouldn't be apologizing. All Ben did was tell me the truth.

"No, don't-- you're right. You're right. I need to try harder."

"No. You need to stay away from Harry. From anything that has to do with him."

You'd think I'd be used to having to imagine being away from Harry, that it won't change much. It's only been two weeks.

But these last two weeks have been the most I've felt normal in a while, and that's terribly sad. And I'm pathetic, because this may be the best I'll get.

"Okay," I mumble, feeling my insides collide and shatter.

****
It's Tuesday and on Tuesdays' work is relatively slow and calm. Ben says we won't start on the strawberry scones until tomorrow morning because George (a very kind and well mannered homeless man) likes the freshly baked ones the best. And since George reminds Ben of his grandfather, it's okay to deprive others of the strawberry scones, for a day.

"Don't forget Jesse's making dinner tonight. Says he wants to try out all the new recipes he's gotten. So basically we might get the stomach flu."

"He's not that bad," I defend. He's only set fire to our kitchen once. "What if you end up liking it?"

"Then Hell will be one cold ass place."

"You're horrible."

"I'm awesome."

Before I can disagree, because Ben's wonderful, but awesome is a term I wouldn't use, the bells jingle and Ben and I have to unfortunately work. Ben mumbles something about it being my turn, as he heads to our storage room, to undoubtedly hide from all our responsibilities.

"Louis?" Why do they do this? Why did they leave if they were just going to come back and mess with my mind.

"Hey," Louis smiles small and quick. "Can we chat real quick?"

"I, um," I can't even use the café as an excuse. There's only two people here, and that's not enough to say no. "It's kind of-"

"It is not busy ya twitt."

"But it could be." In five hours and I have to prepare for that.

"Presley," and why do I feel like every time they say my name it's a command?

"Alright," I sigh, lifting up the small wooden door, as Louis grins and joins me behind the register. "If this is about Saturday-"

"It's-- well it is. But it's not all I want to talk to you about." I can somehow feel Louis' nerves radiating off of his body. It's both uncanny and strange. "I know I didn't handle things well but--"

"I don't wan to do this." Fuck, I really don't want to do this here. I don't want to do this later. I don't want to do it period.

"That's not fair," Louis frowns with hard eyes. "Why do you get to decide that?"

"I didn't decide anything, Louis. There is nothing to decide on."

Louis snorts, "sounds like you just fucking did."

"I don't want to argue with you," at that Louis rolls his eyes, reminding me how infuriating he could be.

"Then let's act like fucking adults and try to salvage the little that's left of our friendship."

"Our friendship?" This is ridiculous. Having to do this in front of Ben's costumers (and okay there's only two people here, but those two people don't need to know my business, especially since one of them is secretly snapping shots of Louis) Louis nods and rubs his face.

"I know you're mad that we up and left but--"

"No. I'm not doing this."

"Why?! Why are you being this fucking difficult!"

"Do you see where we are!?" I'm not helping my situation at all. Because I'm screaming and Louis is screaming, and we're basically giving these random two people a free fucking show. "This isn't the right place to have a conversation like this! This conversation shouldn't even be happening!"

Ben must of heard our talk, because he runs out confused, "what's going on? Louis?"

"Nothing," I mumble, "it was nice seeing you Louis."

"We're not done," Louis hisses.

"Yes we are."

"Not you too," Ben utters. "Look, I thought Harry was the problem."

"He's not a problem. He's a shit, but he's not a problem." Louis says annoyed. "I've already talked with Harry and he'll apologize, but don't call him a problem. He's been hurt by all this just as much as she has."

Ben looks around and grimaced. He's embarrassed and I don't blame him. Louis shouldn't be doing this. "Whatever you say. Lower your voice or get out."

"You're really going to let him throw me out?"

"It's his café." I say quietly. What does he want from me? I didn't fucking start this, and there's no fucking reason why Louis should be the angry one.

"I'm your best friend." Louis says, voice betrayed and sad.

My heart stops at that.

"Best friend?" Ben gasps, shocked and offended. "You're shitting me, right?" Louis frowns and looks back to me. But my mind is in a daze and I think I've stopped breathing.

Louis left some months and a year ago. I called for six months, hoping that he'd pick up. I texted and I fucking emailed (and the resemblance to the sad twilight girl is back and humiliating) I had succumbed to rock bottom, because the boy I had fallen in love with and my best friend had both left.

They left.

I was alone, and they couldn't even be bothered to call back to tell me they were through with me. And I
think both Louis and Harry think it's okay, because they're here now. That it's all going to start right from where they left off, because they're here now.

"Louis," I whisper, "we used to be best friends. But best friends don't up and leave and even if they do, they at least pick up once to say it's over. You aren't my best friend. You weren't here-- you didn't even call when Caleb died." Every time I think about Caleb my chest aches and I want the ground to swallow me whole. "I'm a lot of things, Louis, but you're best friend isn't one of them."

With that being said-- and shit, it's finally out and it stings. I untie my apron and walk out.

I used to do a lot for myself. Now it seems like the only thing I can do, the only thing I am good at is crying. Crying for myself, for Caleb. For everything anyone has ever done to me.

For Louis, and especially and stupidly for Harry.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid, Harry.

Notes

To my special sponge cake who is sad,
There will always be a soft spot in my heart for you. /).(\