Work Text:
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: AUG 30 AT 10:55 PM
SUBJECT: Louise
Hi. So. This is it.
I can’t believe that I don’t get to see you for God knows how long. I’m not used to that. I know I should be excited, and I am, but I also can’t stop thinking about it. I don’t even know where I’m going with this, we just got off the phone. I already miss you.
In happier news, I am officially moved into my room. The lady from communications finally realized that I am, in fact, a Louis and not a Louise and moved me into the right room. I haven’t met my roommate yet, but his stuff is already here. I’m trying to unpack most of my stuff right now, we both know that I won’t ever do it if I don’t do it now.
Anyway, I did find the book you hid in-between two of my sweatshirts, and I would just like to say: Fuck you. I did not just graduate from high school for you to put my maths textbook into my suitcase. I will not, under any circumstances, be taking any classes that have anything to do with that subject.
Did I mention that I miss you?
— Lou.
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: AUG 30 AT 09.53 PM
SUBJECT: RE: Louise
Hello, my sweet college boyfriend.
Yes, I’m calling you that and no, you don’t get to have a say in that. I even changed your saved contact name. I don’t know why I’m telling you this, because there’s no way you’re going to find out about that from 582 miles away. Okay, it’s sinking in now. This is real. I’m trying not to think about this, because my mom made lasagna for dinner to cheer me up, and I’m not sure how I’m supposed to tell her that it’s not working.
Do you know what I just remembered? That there’s now a time difference between us, on top of everything. I mean, I was aware of it, but now it’s 9 PM for you and it’s 10 PM for me and it seems very unfair.
Oh, you just texted me a picture of your room. I love it. Do you think there’s a Harry-sized space somewhere in there? I really hope so.
I’m going to take a shower now, and then I will go to bed and finish my summer reading and try not to think about the fact that you’re not living one street over anymore.
Love,
Harry.
P.S.: I hope you know how happy I am for you and how excited I am. I want to hear everything about your new life. It just really all hit me when I got your email and I needed to get all of this out of my system. I promise I’ll be better tomorrow. I love you.
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: AUG 31 AT 09.21 AM
SUBJECT: RE: Louise
Harry,
please, I’m begging you, don’t feel bad about any of this. It’s okay, I know that you’re not trying to make me feel bad for leaving. You were the one that talked me into it, so I would never think that you’d hold that against me.
The time difference thing is messing with me too. I know it’s not by much, but today I woke up at six and was ready to get up. ME, Harry, the person that has never left his bed before noon if he didn’t have to. And to think that you’re already in school now is weird to me. Like, my roommate isn’t even up yet. I think he was drunk when he got back last night.
I know I told you this before, but classes don’t start until next week, so I technically could do whatever I want. Except for the fact that I don’t know anyone here.
I’m not used to being on my own, Harry. I’m not sure how I’m supposed to handle this.
But we start training tomorrow, at least that will give me something else to think about. And yes, I also found the chocolate bar you slipped into my soccer shoes — what the fuck, Harry? I love you, but ?
In the middle of writing this, my roommate woke up. His name is Niall, and he just groaned something and is now on his way to the community bathroom. Another thing I need to get used to. It’s weird to go to the toilet where everyone else also goes to the toilet.
Call me when you read this, okay? I love you.
— Lou.
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: AUG 31 AT 04.39 PM
SUBJECT: So many miles
Hi.
I would have written you back way earlier, but someone called me right when I got out of school (and did not wait for me to call him like his email said he would) and he kept talking and talking. Speaking of that, I think it’s really rich for you to complain about where you are when you’re literally at the beach as I’m typing this. I’m stuck in Tucson, Arizona while you’re out there in Santa Barbara, freaking California, probably hanging out at the beach (not that I’m jealous). (Except for the fact that I really am).
About the chocolate bar: I’m responsible for a lot of things, like stealing your black hoodie with the white strings, but that wasn’t me. Ask one of your sisters, they probably know something about it.
From what you told me earlier, Niall seems to be a really nice guy. I’m glad you’re not feeling as lonely as you did this morning. Yeah, it sucks that you’re so far away for me, five hundred and eighty-two miles to be exact (which are five hundred and eighty-two miles too many if you ask me), but I still want you to get the best ‘college experience’ you can. And yes, I am quoting your mother right now.
I’m really looking forward to hearing about your training and all of your classes, I know you’re itching to actually do something.
Goodbye, my sweet college boyfriend.
We both know I’ll call you one more time before I go to bed, but okay)
Love,
Harry
FROM: [email protected]
DATE: SEP 1 AT 10.51 PM
SUBJECT: Soccer = Hell
Hi.
I think we need to talk about that “sweet college boyfriend” thing again. I let it slide because I thought you were joking, but I’m sensing that I was wrong and that you are serious, which is horrible. Especially for my reputation. So, can we please go back to you using my normal name? Thank you.
So, today’s training almost killed me. I thought I was well prepared, I mean, I passed all the tests and I’ve been playing my entire life, but oh how I was wrong. Niall probably has to carry me to class tomorrow. Harry, you would not believe how sore my legs are. And my bum. I’ll never do lunges again.
But the team seems nice. I’m obviously not the only new kid, there are some other freshmen too and two juniors transferred to UCSB this year. I’m sort of nervous because they all seem so much better than me. They’re faster and their technique is better. I’m not really worried yet, but there always is the possibility that I won’t be able to catch up. High school soccer seems ridiculous to me right now.
Anyway, I called my mom today and she confirmed that Phoebe put that chocolate bar into my suitcase, so I guess you’re proven innocent. And here I thought my boyfriend was being sweet (in a weird way) instead of stealing all of my clothes.
I love you. Goodnight, H. I miss you. It’s weird to be in a place you’ve never been. Let’s change that.
— Lou.
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: SEP 2 AT 07.05 AM
SUBJECT: RE: Soccer = Hell
Hello, my sweet college boyfriend.
You’re keeping that name. I like it. Mostly because it seems to annoy you.
Listen to me: You’ll catch up. I know you will. You work hard, and you’re smart, and you’re ambitious. By the end of the year, you’ll out-soccer all of them, mark my words. And forgive me for not knowing the right terms. My point is, this was the first practice. You’ll be fine, I promise.
About that last line: It’s the same for me. I miss knowing where you are, even if that sounds creepy. Like, when you used to tell me about your day, I always knew what each room looked like and had a face for every name. Now I just don’t. I feel like a stranger to your life. Not to you. Just everything around you.
I miss you too, soccer-star. Come home soon.
Love,
Harry
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: SEP 28 AT 04.19 AM
SUBJECT: This sucks.
So. I guess happy two year anniversary to us. I really want this email to not be depressing and to be happy, because I love you so much and I’m so happy that we’re together, but I can’t promise anything.
It’s four in the morning, and I haven’t slept at all. Because this time two years ago, we were at Liam‘s stupid party and you kissed me for the first time and I would do everything to just go back to that day.
Well, maybe not everything. I like where I am today, it just sucks that it’s this far away from you. I mean, I knew that before today, but it just really hit me. You’re there, and I’m here, and every single part of me misses you so much it hurts.
I feel really out of place sometimes because I’m so used to having you next to me that it feels wrong to know you’re not.
I don’t even know where I’m going with this, maybe it’s the sleep deprivation speaking.
TL; DR; I miss you. I love you.
— Lou
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: SEP 28 AT 08.49 AM
SUBJECT: Do you remember…?
Hi baby.
After three full hours of sleep, I’m not as depressed as last night. I’m sorry I unloaded all of that on you when this is supposed to be a happy day for us.
So, here it is (buckle up because this is going to be very sappy): Harry Styles, I am completely and utterly in love with you.
You somehow make it bearable for me to be this far away from you, even though you are the person I miss the most (sorry, Mom). Because when you text me or write me emails, it‘s almost like you’re right there next to me. And almost is just enough to get me through bad days.
If USPS didn’t fuck up monumentally, there should be a package on your front porch by the time you get home from school. I don’t trust USPS at all, so this is a big ‘if’. Anyway, I hope you’ll like what I got you.
My brain is completely fried from how little sleep I got last night and my first class hasn’t even started yet, so this is going to be a loong day for me. At least I’ll have our date tonight to look forward to. Even if it’s just over FaceTime, I don’t care. I’m so excited to see your face again.
— (A now a little happier) Lou.
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: SEP 28 AT 04.05 PM
SUBJECT: RE: Do you remember…?
… the *28th night of September?
Louis, we both know that those are NOT the correct lyrics to that song. The words don’t magically change just because you thought it was 28 instead of 21st your entire life. But, in honor of our second anniversary, I’ll let it slide. It’s kind of cute.
About your first email: Never apologize for the way you feel to me. This is how it’s supposed to be, talking is good. And I get it, Lou. I truly do. I haven’t told you this before, but I’ve turned into your street, one junction too soon to go home, more than once since you left. It’s what I’m used to. And now that part of my life isn’t the same anymore and it’s hard for me to adjust to that. I know it’s the same for you, probably even more so. We’re both in the same boat here, alright? And if you need to get all of these feelings and thoughts out, I’m always here. Whether it’s email or phone calls or a freaking letter, I don’t give a shit. As long as I know how you are.
In happier news, I did get your package and you don’t need to murder or sue anyone at USPS. I was debating if I should wait to open it until our call tonight, but I decided against it. There is still one more hour left before you get out of class, and then like four more before you get back from soccer training. (No, I don’t have your schedule memorized. You’re imagining that.)
I’m currently wearing the sweatshirt you sent me. I’ve never seen it before. I don’t know why that put me off this much when I first unwrapped it, I’m just so used to knowing anything and everything about your life. I’m not upset that you didn’t tell me you bought a new sweatshirt (because that would be insane), it only always catches me off-guard that I’m not in your life a hundred percent anymore. See, now I’m getting depressed.
Change of topic: Thank you for the care-package. Even though YOU are the one going to college in a whole different state and I probably should have been the one to send you something like that. Anyway, I love you.
Watch me listen to Still Into You on repeat until you call me tonight (and maybe I’ll play September once or twice, but only for your sake).
Love,
Harry
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: OCT 1 AT 08.52 PM
SUBJECT: FWD: Thank you for choosing American Airlines! I Flight #573
Dear Mr. Styles,
This is your booking confirmation. If you are unable to open this email or received it by mistake, please report to our customer service.
Flight #573
PHX to SBA
Passenger Name(s):
Styles, Harry
Saturday, October 11
Itinerary:
Depart: Phoenix, AZ (PHX) at 09:35 am
Arrive: Santa Barbara, CA (SBA) at 10:16 am
You can check-in online on www.aa.com starting 24 hours before and up to 45 minutes before departure (90 for international). To check-in and check bags at the airport, you must be there a certain amount of time before scheduled departure: Within the U.S. - 45 minutes.
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: OCT 1 AT 08.01 PM
SUBJECT: FWD: Thank you for choosing American Airlines! I Flight #573
I have never in my life clicked on an email this fast, this includes all of your emails that I answered in seconds. I can’t believe this is happening. A month of not seeing each other isn’t that long, I know that, and I also know that there are probably longer stretches of us being apart coming, but right now, I don’t give a single shit.
Ten days until I see you again. Oh my God.
I need to clean this dorm room, Niall’s stuff is everywhere (I know he’s Irish, but does he NEED so many green scarves and shirts??) Yes, my stuff is everywhere too, but whatever.
I can’t believe this. You won’t believe how excited I am right now. Ten more days, H. And you’re staying for a whole week. Is this reality??
(I still have to convince Niall to move out for a week and it sucks that I’ll have to go to classes while you’re here, but what does it matter when I haven’t seen you since AUGUST?)
I already have so many ideas of what we need to do, where we should get dinner and what places I want to show you. You’ll even get to go to one of my games, like WHAT. I’m way too excited right now.
LDR suddenly seems very manageable. Especially when I think about how you’re going to be here for one week, and then I’ll be home for Thanksgiving and after that, Christmas is right around the corner. I miss you, but right now it’s sort of a good feeling. Because I know I’ll get you back in ten days.
I love you so so so much, see you soon.
— Lou.
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: OCT 1 AT 09.10 PM
SUBJECT: FWD: Thank you for choosing American Airlines! I Flight #573
Fuck email, I’m calling you.
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: OCT 3 AT 07.58 AM
SUBJECT: 8 days
Harryyy,
Only eight more days!! I’m literally counting the seconds right now.
About your questions the other day: Classes are good, but a lot of work. I think my favorite so far is my marketing one, the professor is very nice and her assignments are manageable.
Training isn’t getting easier, but it’s not as hard anymore either. I don’t know. I’m at the point where I finally stopped feeling like the odd one out and the entire team seems really relaxed about me being gay. Last week when we went to a diner after training ran late, this one guy, Max, caught me looking at my phone (waiting for a text from you, obviously). He’s a senior and a little intimidating if I’m honest, but he looked at my lockscreen and asked me if you’re my boyfriend and where you go to school.
It’s that picture of us from when we painted the garden shed with Dan and there’s white paint everywhere. You know which one I mean.
Anyhow, he asked me that I told him yes and that you’re still finishing school back home. It wasn’t a long or meaningful conversation, but it’s nice to know that people care about you. And you never know if someone’s gonna be a dick about stuff like that, so I’m glad no one is. As far as I know.
I really need to finish this or I’m going to get killed for being late to breakfast. Niall is the most impatient person I know, even more than I am, and he finds it utterly annoying that my training starts before breakfast.
Eight more days, Haz. Eight. As in single digits.
— Lou.
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: OCT 5 AT 07.43 PM
SUBJECT: Less than a week
Lou,
It’s official. In less than a week I’ll be in with you. I can’t wait to see where you live now. And I want to go to the beach. Can we go, please??? *Insert puppy eyes*
I really have no clue about what you can do in Santa Barbara or what one should see when visiting, so I’m going to leave all the planning to you. I trust your judgement of what I like.
Has it really just been one month? It feels like so much longer.
Train hard, my sweet college boyfriend, I want to see you play next week (!) and not just watch you sit on a bench for two hours. No pressure though.
I’m going to go now, or a certain Anne Twist might give me up for adoption for not vacuuming the living room.
Love,
Harry
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: OCT 11 AT 03.14 AM
SUBJECT: What even is sleep?
Harry,
I can’t sleep. Not at all. I’ve been trying to for two hours now, but my brain won’t shut up. Neither will my heart. I’m literally counting down the hours right now.
I don’t even know if you’re still up. You’re not texting me back, so I’m guessing no. The thought of you fast asleep is very cute. It doesn’t make me any calmer, though, because I know this time tomorrow, I won’t have to imagine you sleeping next to me. I’ll just be able to turn around and watch you sleep. Sorry, that sounded creepy.
I can’t believe I have to bring Niall with me to the airport to pick you up. I get that he doesn’t want to give his car to his roommate of one month, but it’s just. Sigh. I’ll make him stay in the car, I promise.
Seven more hours.
— Lou.
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: OCT 20 AT 03.21PM
SUBJECT: How do other couples do this?
Lou,
I don’t even know what to say right now. I just got home, and my room feels strange to me.
I got nine full days with you but now we’re back to zero, counting the days until you come home for Thanksgiving.
It hurts just as bad as it did when you left in August. Only now I know what your life at college looks like. I’m not sure if it makes it better or worse.
I love that I got to know college-Louis who gets up at the ass crack of dawn to do strength training and that wears cute glasses to do his homework after dinner. But as much as I love that version of you, it also gives me another part of you to miss.
Like, I was there for five days of you going to class, and when I go to bed tonight, I’ll be sad that I don’t have to tell you to stop studying.
I’m not sure how to deal with this right now. My brain goes back to the moment I walked through the gates and you were standing there, with your stupid sign and that California tan and that fringe. I felt like that moment was never going to be there, everything took so, so long, and then you were there and it just felt surreal.
These nine days went by as if they were a single one, and I’m so mad that I even have to write this email. It just feels really unfair, even when I know that it's totally irrational.
Love,
Harry
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: OCT 20 AT 05.14 PM
SUBJECT: RE: How do other couples do this?
Harry,
To answer your question: I don’t know.
My room feels just as strange as I’m guessing yours does. I get the idea of you missing that new part of me you got to know, because it’s the same for me. Before you stayed here, I didn’t know how good you’d fit. I kept imagining it, but it never got close to the real deal.
The truth is, I had no clue how amazing this dorm could be before. Now, everywhere I look, I only see you. The textbook for my media class you somehow found interesting and read every evening while I was studying. The Avril Lavigne quote you scribbled with pencil onto the wall above my bed (yes, I saw that). My bed. God. You’re everywhere, H.
And I love that you are, but it also makes me miss you so much more.
Niall just moved back into the room and he’s trying to cheer me up, but it’s not working that well. I owe him and his heart made out of pure gold so much. I don’t think I would’ve left the room for ten nights without complaining about it if his girlfriend (if he had one, that is) came to visit. Especially not in the middle of the semester.
I know we’re both upset and down right now, but let’s try to keep the good thoughts. I mean, you just spent your entire fall break with your soccer-star boyfriend (that got to play the last twenty minutes of the game) in California, right at the beach, so. Maybe we shouldn’t complain this much.
I love you. I’m not sure how, but we’ll get through this.
— Lou.
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: OCT 22 AT 05.17 PM
SUBJECT: The solution
Lou,
I found the solution. Well, it’s the most obvious one, so I didn’t really FIND it. And I’ve been thinking about this since the day you started looking into scholarships, even before we started dating.
The thing is that I don’t want to spend four more years doing this. We talked about this briefly during the summer, right before you left, so I’m not sure how much of this you remember.
I wasn’t just joking when I said I’d apply to colleges in your area. In fact, I just did. I don’t know when I’m going to hear back, especially since some deadlines aren’t until January, but it’s a start. I’m too late for early admissions, so I’m guessing March, like everyone else.
Maybe I should have told you sooner, I don’t know. I need you to understand that I’m not sacrificing my college-dreams for your or some shit like that. I did apply to other schools in other states as well, you know that, but if I get into UCSB or even UCLA, I won’t have to think about it for a second.
I hope you’re not mad at me for not telling you.
Love,
Harry.
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: OCT 22 AT 09.32 PM
SUBJECT: RE: The solution
Okay, WHAT. How could you think I’d be mad at you??
I’m literally speechless right now. For the most part, I forced myself not to think about where you’ll go to school next year, and maybe I secretly hoped you’d at least apply to a college somewhat close to mine (so, no, I didn’t forget about that conversation from last summer), but I didn’t want you to feel like you had to. I hope you didn’t feel like that.
Because if you’ll be here or in a city close to me, then I’d obviously be over the moon, but if you chose to go somewhere else, I know we could make that work too. And we will, if we have to.
Harry, I love you so much. I really don’t know what else to say right now. I love you. Thank you.
— Lou.
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: OCT 28 AT 09.53 PM
SUBJECT: Glitter
Harry,
I truly love you, and the fact that you still hang out with my sisters even though I’m not there sort of makes me want to drop to my knees (Jesus, Harry, mind out of the gutter) and propose, but thanks to your sweet little card congratulating me on my first goal during a game (!!!), my dorm room is now flooded with pink and turquoise glitter.
Niall says he doesn’t mind, but after three attempts of getting it out, it’s still in every corner. Whenever I open a drawer, there somehow is glitter. Harold, I even used the vacuum cleaner for the first time and when I put it back, my left eyebrow looked suspiciously pink.
I’m not complaining, because it was the sweetest card ever, but if I have to be evacuated from my room because of fine dust pollution, I will put all the blame on you.
Good luck on your test tomorrow, babe. I know you’ll smash it.
— Lou.
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: OCT 29 AT 05.38 PM
SUBJECT: RE: Glitter
Louis William Tomlinson, you cannot say shit like that when you’re 582 miles away from me over EMAIL. Like, I had to read that sentence three times. And I’m still blushing. It’s like your stupid fucking Californian keyboard has a direct connection to my brain. And heart. But I enjoy hanging out with your sisters, you know they’re family. Even Mom misses them and now our mothers have their Thursday-afternoon-tea (God, that’s horrible to type out. I’m calling it TAT from now on) at your house. I went with my mom last time, hence the card. I don’t know how much your mom lets on, but they all really miss you. I swear, the house isn’t the same anymore. I’m not trying to make you feel bad, I know you already do, but maybe it’s also nice to hear? Like, you’re such a good big brother that it’s really obvious that there’s a gap in the family system right now. They’ll all find a way to make you fill that gap with whatever they can get, but I think they’re all still trying to get used to it.
Me too. Sometimes I think I saw you in school and then I remember that you don’t actually go there anymore.
And Lou, please tell me this isn’t the first time in three months that your dorm has been vacuumed. Why does this make me miss you? What does that say about me?
As you predicted, I smashed the test. I guess our good old Ms. Crossan took pity on us and gave us a multiple choice test. I even regret studying in the first place, what a waste of time.
But, I’m not one to complain about an easy A. Apropos complaining: I’m very hurt (on behalf of myself and Daisy and Phoebe) that you’re this upset by a little glitter in your dorm room. It lacked a little haute couture flair anyway.
But I stand by what I said in the card: I’m really proud of you. It sucks that I wasn’t there for it. For now, the video Niall sent me will be enough.
I don’t know how this email got this mope-y. I promise I’m doing okay and that I’m coping better than a week ago. I guess I just miss my boyfriend.
Love,
Harry
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: OCT 29 AT 10:01 PM
SUBJECT: RE: Glitter
That… was a bombshell of an email. I know you didn’t mean anything by it, but I just always think about how much I miss home and of how much I miss you and how much you miss me. Of course I knew my mom would have trouble with me going away, but I figured that’s just how it is with every mother. It’s not like I forgot about the others, God, no. Maybe I’m too preoccupied with what I go through to consider that they’re struggling too.
Sometimes I feel like I’m locked out of that part of my life. Like, I don’t actually know what’s going on back home anymore. There’s the things that my family tells me when we talk on the phone and I’m pretty certain my phone bill is higher than ever before because of the amount of time the both of us spend talking to each other, but it’s not the same as really being there. It’s the same thing as you only getting that video of me scoring my first goal instead of seeing it in person. Sure, it still is great and it doesn’t mean that you’re any less proud of me, but it has that bittersweet taste to it.
I just didn’t expect any of this to be this hard.
— Lou.
P.S.: I guess I miss my boyfriend too.
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: OCT 30 AT 08.21 PM
SUBJECT: RE: Glitter
Lou,
Come on. All any of us want is for you to be happy. This scholarship has been your dream ever since you started high school and you worked so hard to get in. So, as much as all of this sucks, it’s not as bad as it feels right now.
The thing is, you don’t just have your life in Tucson anymore, you also have another one in Santa Barbara. Most of the time, those two might not overlap apart from you. But that’s how they fit together, alright? I’m friends with Niall because you’re sharing a dorm with him. We’re writing these cute little emails because you go to a college away from home. As much as this downright sucks, I love these emails and I love our video and phone calls and texts.
No, it’s not the same as it was a year ago when we were in each other’s pockets 24/7, and I’m not saying I don’t miss that, but this is great in its own way. All the weeks apart are terrible and they hurt, but nothing will top the feeling I had when I first saw you again in the fall. What I’m trying to say is that there are two sides to everything and maybe we need to start to try and see the silver lining in all of this.
I love you.
Love,
Harry
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: OCT 30 AT 10:01 PM
SUBJECT: RE: Glitter
I think I’m in love with you.
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: OCT 30 AT 11.02PM
SUBJECT: RE: Glitter
You better be.
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: NOV 1 AT 02.12 AM
SUBJECT: RE: Glitter
Lou,
Halloween sucked without you. I know it’s your favorite holiday, if you can even call it one, but it’s just NOT the same without matching costumes and having to do my makeup by myself. Never doing that again.
Love,
Harry
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: NOV 1 AT 09.34 AM
SUBJECT: RE: Glitter
Judging by the voicemail you left me an hour before that email, it couldn’t have been that bad. I’m sorry I didn’t pick up last night, but Niall dragged me to this party and I hated it there, so I went home early and went to bed before midnight in order to survive this morning. Coach is cruel like that, makes us go on 7am runs even when he knows that at least half the team will be still drunk or have a massive hangover. I’m really glad I didn’t get drunk last night, God.
Look at me, I’m turning into a Good Boy. I guess you were the bad influence after all.
No, honestly, this wasn’t the best Halloween for me either (see: this email), but I know that sometimes it just can’t be. And I know you know. But for all we know, next year could be different. And I promise to wear whatever ridiculous matching you want us to (God, I’ll regret saying this, won’t I?)
Love you.
— Lou.
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: NOV 1 AT 11.19 AM
SUBJECT: RE: Glitter
Lou,
You will ABSOLUTELY regret saying this. I’ll make it my life’s mission. GTG look for the worst ever matching costume in existence to prepare for next year.
I love you more.
Love,
Harry
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: NOV 10 AT 10.39 PM
SUBJECT: T-Shirts suck.
I know we just hung up and that you’re going to sleep, but. You see, missing you sometimes hits me from out of the blue. We just spent two hours talking and it was almost like I was there with you, helping with homework and gossiping about the teachers, and I was completely fine. In moments like that I always think that maybe this isn’t as bad and that we can do this for three more years in case we have to.
But then we hung up and I found a shirt of yours, the white one you wore the night before you left, stuck between the mattress and the bed frame. Let’s not think about what it means that it’s been there for almost a month. Anyway, I found it, and it sort of broke my heart because it’s here and you’re not. It reminds me of that last night before you had to go back home, how we ate PB&J sandwiches at two in the morning and what it felt like when I buried my nose in the fabric of that exact shirt. What it smelt like. It doesn’t smell like you anymore, only like dust and the rest of the room. I don’t know why this upsets me this much. It knocked the air out of my lungs, Harry. This is your stupid fucking shirt and it’s dusty and it’s been here for three weeks and I hate it. I hate it so much.
— Lou.
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: NOV 11 AT 08.02 AM
SUBJECT: RE: T-Shirts suck.
Lou,
I’ll send you a new shirt. Or two, one fresh out of the laundry and one I just wore, so that it smells like me. For fucks sake, Lou, you can have all of my shirts. My entire closet if that’s what will make you happy.
Louis, I miss you just as much. Don’t get me wrong, the narcissist in me loves getting these emails. I want you to miss me. It’s okay that you miss me. But I also want you to be happy and I want you to enjoy college and make friends and win games and be passionate about your classes. I know you can do both at the same time, just don’t get too caught up in the bad things, alright? Remember, silver linings and all that.
We can do this this year and the one after that and the one after that if we have to.
Love,
Harry
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: NOV 25 AT 05.52 PM
SUBJECT: Happy Thanksgiving to us
Thanksgiving is tomorrow and I’m in my own bed for the first time since August and you’re in my arms, napping, and I’m so happy right now, I could cry. I’m never leaving this room again.
— Lou.
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: NOV 25 AT 06.41 PM
SUBJECT: RE: Happy Thanksgiving to us
I just saw this. BRB, gonna kiss my boyfriend senseless until I forget how to breathe.
Love,
Harry
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: NOV 29 AT 08.51 PM
SUBJECT: …
So. How do we do this again? I swear, every time we see each other, my brain completely erases all the coping mechanisms that are in place to deal with missing you. And then I’m back to square one, with no idea how to even talk to my own boyfriend. I feel like a broken record. I miss you, I miss you, I miss you, I miss you.
Losing you like this sucks so much and we still have months to go. I hate it so much. For an hour or so, it felt like you were just on the toilet or downstairs, talking to my mom or making a quick trip to your own house. It didn’t really click until Mom came in to get your pillowcase so she can throw it in the laundry. She didn’t even bat an eye when I told her that she’d only get it over my dead body. I know I’m being dramatic, but I can’t help it. I hate the fact that you’re almost 600 miles away from me again. Again. What a stupid word.
Silver lining: You’ll be back in less than a month.
Love,
Harry
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: NOV 29 AT 10.22 PM
SUBJECT: RE: …
Less than a month. I’m clinging on to that like it’s my lifeline. I love college. I love soccer. But I hate that it’s keeping me from you. I’m not considering dropping out or transferring if you think that, so don’t panic, but I think I just can’t fall in love with this place like I think I could if it didn’t mean that I’m this far away from you.
— Lou.
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: DEC 4 AT 05.29 PM
SUBJECT: RE: Meniscus tears and other joys
Lou,
This sucks, God. When you called the other day and told me you were in the hospital, I almost had a heart attack. (Also, you suck for calling me first instead of your mother. I’m charmed, but call her first next time. I’m praying there won’t be a next time. But she’s much calmer about this stuff than I am.)
I’m glad they didn’t make you stay overnight and that your knee doesn’t need surgery, but I still hate the fact that you’re hurt in the first place. So, Lou, baby, whatever you need, I’ll do it. I’ll even pay Niall to carry you up and down the stairs to your room. If you were here, I’d pamper you until you’re better. I hope you know that. Hm. Maybe it’s a good thing that you’re not here, because you’d be a) fat by the end of the week, and b) become a little brat. You’re already bratty enough.
I love you, Lou. Get well soon.
Love,
Harry
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: DEC 4 AT 08.31 PM
SUBJECT: RE: Meniscus tears and other joys
I’d love to have Niall carry me everywhere. Please make him do that. I’m begging you. It would make my entire life. Oh my God, that would be so hilarious. I’m actually giggling right now. Maybe it’s the meds they’re giving me, I do feel a bit loopy.
So, my coach spoke to the doctors again and I’m not allowed to train for at least six weeks, probably more like eight weeks. That means basically the end of January. Harry, do you know how long that is? Not only am I stuck in fucking California, but now I also can’t play soccer which is the entire reason I’m here in the first place. It all feels so useless right now.
I also have to do physical therapy and rest and ice my knee, but that’s not that bad. I guess I was lucky. And it’s not even like I want to have a career in soccer anyway, I just love it and need it to get me through college. I’m trying to find the good side of this, Harry, I really am, but. I don’t know. I’ll be stuck in my dorm room until Christmas with only my crutches to get me to classes. You’re so much better at this than I am. So, Styles, what do you think? Am I doomed or is there still something positive in this?
— Lou.
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: DEC 5 AT 07.23 AM
SUBJECT: RE: Meniscus tears and other joys
Lou,
It’s seven in the morning and my brain isn’t working properly yet, but here’s what I can come up with right now:
- You’ll get to relax for a bit. You’re always in a hurry, from practice to showers to classes and back to practice until you pass out at your desk at one in the morning.
- You get to talk to your boyfriend 24/7 now that you’re not as busy anymore. See above.
- If you whine enough Niall might actually carry you to class. He’s sweet like that.
- I don’t know WHY we haven’t talked about this until now, BUT YOU’RE GOING TO BE HOME THREE DAYS EARLIER because you don’t have to stay for your weird training weekend. Hello?? We can literally spend your birthday together for the entire day?? Love that for us. Is that selfish? Maybe a little. I don’t care.
I’ll email you as soon as I come up with more reasons.
Love,
Harry
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: DEC 7 AT 11.02 PM
SUBJECT: RE: Meniscus tears and other joys
Harry. Haz. Baby. H. I’m so sorry. Really, I am. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. I’ve just been trying to keep it together for so long because I know that it was an accident while training and that’s no one’s fault, but. I keep getting so frustrated. I know I can’t lose my scholarship unless I stop playing entirely but it’s still scary that that is an option now. A very unlikely one, but still.
This doesn’t excuse the things I said on the phone and it doesn’t make it okay, but I wanted to explain anyway. Harry, you are quite literally the person that’s keeping me sane during this. You’re the one that talks me out of my weird anxiety spirals and you’re the one I can call in the middle of the night when I’m frustrated and in pain. I was so wrong to let my bad mood out on you. You didn’t and don’t deserve that. I’m very sorry, H. I promise to be better. For you. Because you deserve that.
I love you so much and I’m so sorry.
— Lou.
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: DEC 8 AT 12.09 AM
SUBJECT: RE: Meniscus tears and other joys
Louis,
It’s okay, I guess. Well, it’s not really because I’m still hurt and upset, but we’ll get through it. Thank you for explaining. I know I can’t truly understand what you’re going through, but I get that it’s scary. You should’ve told me before that you’re afraid you’ll lose your scholarship because then I could have told you how dumb that is. Talk to me about these things, Lou. If you do that, you won’t end up in these endless spirals of overthinking.
You’re not going to lose your scholarship. You’re only out for about eight weeks at most, and three of those you would’ve been home anyway. That leaves five weeks. See, not that much. You’ll be alright.
Just don’t push me away like that again, okay? I can deal with bad moods and frustration and complaining. I love being the person that you turn to. What I can’t deal with is you pushing me away and locking me out. That’s not how relationships work, and you know that.
Call me tomorrow. I like talking in person about this stuff better than emailing.
Love,
Harry.
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: DEC 8 AT 12.11 PM
SUBJECT: RE: Meniscus tears and other joys (DRAFT)
You just called me ‘Louis.’ I hate that. I hate fighting with you.
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: DEC 21 AT 08.23 PM
SUBJECT: The resurrection of these emails
Wow, hi. We haven’t emailed in so long. Well, not that long, but long for our standards. I kind of miss them, so I’m bringing them back. As much as I love your texts about every detail of your life, emails are better. You sort of write how you talk, and then I always feel like I’m actually listening to you rant about something, if that makes sense.
So, I’m currently sitting at my gate at SBA, waiting for this stupid plane to be ready so I can finally go back home and see my boyfriend. Is it weird how much I like that word? Boyfriend. Boyfriend. Boyfriend. Nevermind, I’ve said it too many times. It sounds weird now. Boy-friend. Hm. I need to stop rambling. I promise I’m not drunk, just very sleep deprived.
See you in two hours. I love you, my curly boyfriend. Nope. Still sounds weird.
Okay, okay, I’m going.
— Lou.
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: DEC 21 AT 09.01 PM
SUBJECT: RE: The resurrection of these emails
I sort of missed these emails too. They’re cute. I’ll print them out and read every single one out loud to our kids one day.
Right now, you’re up I don’t know how many miles in the air because I never paid attention in physics class, but I’m guessing it’s many. Anyway, you’re up in the air on your way back home to me for your birthday and for Christmas and I couldn’t be happier. I love you so much.
I hope they don’t test you for drugs, boyfriend.
Love,
Harry.
P.S.: Hurry up, I miss you.
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: DEC 24 AT 02.14 AM
SUBJECT: RE: The resurrection of these emails
Happy birthday, birthday boy.
This is your very special birthday email, not to be confused with your birthday card, your birthday cake, your birthday presents, and most importantly, your birthday kisses.
You’re currently sleeping next to me, the blanket pulled up to your nose. I swear to God, Tomlinson, you must know what you’re doing to me when you look like that.
Sleepy Louis might actually be my favorite Louis and it always feels like a punch in the gut when I hear your sleepy voice over the phone but can’t see you.
Thank God that is not one of my current problems.
I’m not sure how aware you are of this, but today not only marks your nineteenth birthday (you’re getting old, mate) but also five years since we met. My mom sent me and Gemma grocery shopping because she forgot to buy peas for Christmas dinner, and you were there with yours because she wanted you to pick out your own cake. I was twelve, a literal baby, and you bumped into me in the frozen pizza isle. My shopping cart derailed, hitting another woman (I’ll never forget how she yelled at me) and I hit my chin on the edge of the freezer. Of course, only Harry Styles has to go to Urgent Care because he injures his chin on a sharp edge of a freezer and has to get stitches. Not to mention that my mom was absolutely thrilled to pick me and Gemma up there on Christmas Evening. I still have the scar, but I like it. Always reminds me of you.
My point is that you somehow found out where I lived and brought me flowers the next day as an apology. Even though I’m pretty sure this was your mom’s idea.
And then I spent three terrible years pining after my best friend until said best friend kissed me in Liam’s kitchen and now we’re here, and I wouldn’t change one thing about that story.
I love you, Lou, no matter how crazy you drive me sometimes. Even though you always flip your burgers upside down (why???) and are physically incapable of putting your socks into the hamper. I love you so much that I sometimes can’t believe it. There’s no one else I’d rather suffer through a LDR with.
Happy birthday, golden boy.
Love,
Harry.
FROM: LOUIST91@GMAIL.COM
TO: HARRYESTYLES@GMAIL.COM
DATE: JAN 4 AT 10.05 PM
SUBJECT: RE: The resurrection of these emails
I can’t believe I’m flying home again tomorrow and our parents are making us spend the night apart. You’re only one street away from me and I can’t handle it. How am I supposed to handle 582 miles when I can barely manage two?
— Lou.
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: JAN 4 AT 10.14 PM
SUBJECT: RE: The resurrection of these emails
Lou,
This is dumb. Rules are meant to be broken. I’m coming over, open the kitchen door for me.
Love,
Harry
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: JAN 5 AT 3.19 PM
SUBJECT: RE: The resurrection of these emails
I‘m back in my dorm. Niall picked me up from the airport, which was really sweet because if I had taken the bus I couldn‘t have guaranteed that I wouldn’t have accidentally stepped in front of it. Especially with these fucking crutches.
I‘m trying to dig up my last drop of positivity here, so bear with me. Being back home was great. I‘m still not over the fact that you SOMEHOW grew a couple of inches in the weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas and are now as tall as I am. How the fuck did you do that?? I‘m officially telling you to stop growing because if you ever get taller than me I‘ll have to break up with you. Damn it, Harold, you’re younger than me, have always been smaller and it was supposed to stay that way.
I‘m going to go and prepare for some of my classes now and try not to think too much about where I was 12 hours ago.
Love and miss you,
— Lou.
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: JAN 5 AT 04.54 PM
SUBJECT: RE: The resurrection of these emails
Lou,
I‘m sorry it took my two hours to get back to you, but Des was making me rake leaves in the backyard. I guess he’s trying to distract me, which is nice, but it’s not working that well.
I‘m still surprised that neither of our moms killed us for spending the night. They probably were expecting that to happen.
Anyway, I‘ll try to do the same as you and catch up on homework and assignments, I somehow got distracted by a certain someone over the entire break.
Love,
Harry
P.S.: Sorry to break it to you, but I‘m not in control of my growth spurts. Keep an eye out or next time we see each other I‘ll be twice as tall as you.
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: JAN 12 AT 3.01 PM
SUBJECT: I’m a free man
Good news!! I’m finally free of my crutches, thank God. I just got back from my orthopedist and after he looked at the protocols from physical therapy and checked my knee he said that I don’t need them anymore. I knew it was getting a lot better, but I didn’t want to get too excited about it. He said I probably need to wait two more weeks until I can start playing soccer again. Two weeks isn’t so bad, right? I think I can deal with that.
I called you right when I left his practice, but you didn’t pick up, hence this email. I guess you’re still on your way home from school. Definitely give me a call once you see this, if you haven’t already by then.
— Lou.
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: JAN 12 AT 9.33 PM
SUBJECT: RE: I’m a free man
This is me going totally ‘clingy boyfriend’ because it’s half past nine (my time) and I still haven’t heard anything from you. Like, I know you have other things to do and don’t sit around all day and wait for me to call or text you, but I just was so excited when I got the news and the first thing I wanted to do is tell you.
By now, I’ve called my mom and talked to her and Dan and my little sisters. It was nice, but I’m still itching to talk to you.
Call me, okay?
— Lou.
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: JAN 13 AT 08.54 PM
SUBJECT: RE: I’m a free man
Lou,
I’m so sorry. I don’t even have a good explanation for why I went this MIA on you. After school yesterday Liam and I went to Rob’s Diner to do homework. He tried for hours to trick the Pinball machine, you know how competitive he gets. It ended, like always, with him kicking it so hard, he probably broke at least one of his toes. I let him eat one of my waffles to soothe his bruised ego, and once he stopped sulking, it turned out to be a really fun day. I’m not sure how to say this without me sounding like a dick, so please don’t get upset.
I just had a really, really good day. And I haven’t in so long. Basically not since you left, because all that’s on my mind is how much I miss you. Sometimes it’s like my head is a million miles away from here. But this still is my senior year, and maybe I should just try to actually be here a little more. That’s probably why I didn’t call or text or email you. I’m always so preoccupied with where I’ll be a few months from now, that I’ll hopefully be with you (because, let’s be honest, this LDR shit isn’t cutting it), that I end up forgetting to enjoy my last year of school with my friends here.
I know I should have at least let you know that I’d call later. I’m sorry.
About your knee: I’m so happy and excited for you! I know all of that has been incredibly hard on you and it’s great that you’re finally getting better. I guess Niall’s days as your personal assistant are over now?
Love,
Harry
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: JAN 13 AT 9.21 PM
SUBJECT: RE: I’m a free man
You always want me to be honest with you, so this is me trying that: This was a really hard email to read. Wow, Harry, you know you could have told me that, right? I don’t want you to sit around and miss out on things just because I’m not there with you. I highly doubt that that’s healthy. I wish I knew I made you feel like that before. I’m sure my emails and texts and missed calls didn’t make it any better. I don’t know, Harry. You don’t have to go to college here, I told you that before. Whatever you want to do, I’ll always have your back. I hope you know that. If you want to stay back in Arizona for college, that’s fine. Santa Barbara was my choice, and you get to make your own choice, too.
I really don’t know what else to say right now.
— Lou.
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: JAN 14 AT 8.04 AM
SUBJECT: RE: I’m a free man
Lou,
This is exactly why I wasn’t happy with my wording of that email. You’re not the one who made me feel like that. I was. It’s just hard trying to be two places at once and I let ‘real life’ be my second priority one too many times. I was just trying to explain that to you.
I want to go to college in California, Lou. They have all the same courses they do here or in any other state, the weather is better than it is here, and you are there. I want to go to a college close to you, not because I couldn’t live with us being apart for another few years, but because I know that we don’t have to be. I don’t have a dream college I want to go to. I’ll be as happy in Santa Barbara as I would be anywhere else, I promise. Happier, probably.
I want to go to college somewhere close to you and I want to sleep over in your dorm every weekend and I want to gross Niall out with PDA and, more than anything, I want to be with you. So, if that means having to move to California, it’s the opposite of a problem.
I’m really sorry that email hit you like it did. I didn’t mean to hurt or upset you, neither with the email or with not calling back. I guess I always figured I’d have time to mess up and make mistakes and figure myself out before I’d meet someone like you. Someone I want to stick around for pretty much forever. Life sometimes blindsides me, like it did the other day. You weren’t supposed to become collateral damage. I love you.
Love,
Harry
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: JAN 14 AT 8.59 AM
SUBJECT: RE: I’m a free man
This right there, Harry Edward Styles, is a love letter via email and if you think I won’t print it out and stick it to the wall above my bed you’re absolutely wrong.
Can we do FaceTime later? I really miss your face.
— Lou.
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: JAN 26 AT 9.37 PM
SUBJECT: Soccer-Louis is back
Guess who just had their first soccer practice since tearing their meniscus? Yes, you are correct, it’s your boyfriend. H, you won’t believe how happy I am right now. It’s like I can finally breathe again. Maybe you can’t really relate to this, but my entire life has always been about soccer. Tell me the last week of my life you remember where I didn’t mention soccer once. Exactly. The production of my serotonin is somehow very linked to that sport, and right now, I feel like my brain finally remembered how to be happy.
I wasn’t actually able to do much. No sprints or duels yet, Coach Brandon is too worried that I might strain my knee, but just kicking that ball around was enough for today.
I’m so, so happy. I hope your day was just as good as mine was.
— Lou.
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: JAN 26 AT 9.45 PM
SUBJECT: RE: Soccer-Louis is back
Lou,
I knew today was your first day back at training (how could I forget when you bombarded me the entire day with texts about that?) and I was actually sort of nervous about it. I’m just worried, alright? Let me live.
Reading that email made me so incredibly happy, oh my God. I could picture that insane glint in your eyes you sometimes get when you’re really excited or happy about something perfectly. I mean, I can’t really relate to how it must have felt for you, mostly because I don’t even fully understand the concept of soccer (Sorry, don’t break up with me). But I know how much you missed training and how much it means to you in general. So, yeah, I’m pretty fucking happy for you.
Love,
Harry
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: FEB 1 AT 12.01 AM
SUBJECT: Happy birthday
Happy birthday, you donut. I know you’re sleeping right now because you actually love waking up to missed calls and cute text messages on your birthday, even though you claim that’s not the reason you never stay up until midnight for you birthday. Except for last year. Remember last year? Yeah, that was a really great one.
Anyway, it’s your birthday, and you’re eighteen now and it really sucks that we don’t get to be together for that. It’s just as bad as missing our anniversary.
Because I still haven’t overcome my trust-issues with USPS, I left your birthday gift with Anne while I was home over Christmas. I really hope you like it. It’s kind of reminiscent of our first actual date. Sometimes, I’d rather forget about it in general, but then I think about how it’s part of our history together and I really love that. Even when it was complete and utter shit.
I mean, who takes their boyfriend of three weeks to their own soccer game as a date? I’d really like to kick that Louis in the balls. Not only did he do that, but he also gave the both of us food poisoning. I’m so glad that didn’t turn out to be a bad omen for our relationship. So, as far as first dates go, we didn’t start out great. Firsts in general, if I really think about it. I mean, the first time we met, I basically sent you to Urgent Care (but I love the scar on the edge of your chin. It’s cute, and very kissable). Liam walked in on our first kiss. After our first date, we both spent three days puking.
But in the end, I love the fact that it wasn’t a smooth ride and still isn’t. Because even when we’re a mess, it means that I’ve got you. And if these past few months have proven anything to me, it’s that I’d rather be a hot mess with you than not have you at all.
In that sense, happy birthday, H. I hope you eat so much cake you get nauseated and that you spend so much time laughing your cheeks hurt. If I get any texts at all from you today, they better be really short because I want you to have a great time and fun with your friends and family. We can always talk tonight or tomorrow, yeah?
I love you, I miss you, and I’m really happy you’re not sick of me yet.
Love,
Lou
(Yes, I’m only doing that for you. Shut up. We’ll never speak of it again.)
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: FEB AT 9.21 AM
SUBJECT: RE: Happy birthday
Lou,
I’m very hurt that you would accuse me of something like that. I’m a literal baby, I need eight hours of sleep at night or I’ll cry. You know that. Even on my birthday. How could you?? I’d never do that. Never. You’re such a liar.
I don’t want to tell you all the details of my birthday because you already had to listen to all of that last night. I can’t believe we talked for like four hours. I stopped by that coffee shop we used to go to to study in peace when your sisters were driving you crazy on my way to school and I got a drink with so much caffeine and sugar in it that I’m scared I’ll have a heart attack before lunch. It’s not even doing its job. I’m in the library, trying to work on an essay for my English Lit class, but I keep nodding off. Which is why I’m writing this email. My brain somehow focuses better on you than on Margaret Atwood. Take it as a compliment, Tomlinson, because if I were straight and she not a hundred years old, I’d totally marry her.
What I didn’t tell you last night (definitely not because I get a little choked up even thinking about it) is how much that email means to me. I mean, I know we’re both really serious about us, but still. I think it was mostly the part where you told me not to text you and have fun with my friends instead. Louis, I know you and I know how much birthdays mean to you. It’s really selfless of you to say that and basically take a step back because you know how I struggle with picking priorities between this and real life. Not that you’re not real life. You know what I mean. God, my brain is so fried. All I’m trying to say is that I see all the things you’re doing for me and that I appreciate them. I really love you for that.
Love,
Harry
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: FEB 19 AT 9.37 PM
SUBJECT: RE: Twins??
Lou,
That sounds like one hell of a bombshell they dropped on you. Especially over the phone. I know you’re happy for your mom and for Dan, but it’s also okay if you don’t feel great about it. For whatever reason at all. Whether that’s you not being there to help out or because they didn’t tell you in person.
But — Lou, you’re gonna be a big brother again. Is that even a thing you say? Because you already are. I don’t know. Anyway, you won’t believe how excited I am. Little babies. I love babies. And TWO of them, too. I know they’re not technically my siblings, but they kind of are and I’m so happy, oh my God. Can we get them matching rompers and pacifiers? Pretty pretty please.
It’s hard, but I’m going to keep my mouth shut and not tell Mom, because I’m pretty sure Jay has only told you and your sisters and wants to tell my mom herself. It’s nearly killing me. You know how bad I am at secrets.
Love,
Harry
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: FEB 19 AT 10.11 PM
SUBJECT: RE: Twins??
Oh, how I know. You’re the worst at secrets. Remember when we got Gemma that signed limited edition copy of her favorite album at Dean’s Records for her graduation? We waited in line for three hours and you made me take the vinyl home because you were scared you’d show her in all your excitement. Twenty minutes after I got home that day you called me and confessed that you already told her about it. The best thing is that whenever I tell this story, you still blush and get adorably defensive about it, although it was three years ago. It might be the entire reason I still mention it.
So. Over the last twelve hours I’ve come to terms with the fact that my mom is pregnant again. Don’t get me wrong, I am happy for her and Dan, and I am excited to have two more siblings (hopefully at least one brother or I’ll go insane), but I’m also all kinds of worried. I guess it doesn’t make it easier that I’m not home. You know how my mom gets, she’d never let anyone know if there are problems. She doesn’t want me to worry, but I don’t think she understands that that makes me worry even more.
And, Harry, you have my permission to go batshit crazy with matching rompers and pacifiers and whatever else you want. (I already know how much I’m going to regret this.)
— Lou.
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: MAR 5 AT 5.09 PM
SUBJECT: This
Lou,
This is absolutely not working for me. It’s been more than two months since we’ve last seen each other and it’s killing me. I don’t think we’ve ever been apart for this long. And last semester was hard, yes, because we were still getting used to this, but even if I’m used to it now, I hate it. Mom and I went to Home Depot a few weeks ago and I got new curtains for my room and until now, I haven’t even told you about it because, let’s be honest, it’s not that big of a deal. But it makes me sad that my room looks different now and you haven’t seen it yet. It’s so stupid, but I can’t stop thinking about it.
I get that we couldn’t see each other during spring break because of your training camp and money reasons (why are flights this fucking expensive?). I’m not mad or upset or anything, it just makes me really sad. I don’t know.
Every day when I come home, the first thing I do is check the mailbox for acceptance letters. I know they’re not supposed to start coming in for another two weeks, and even then the ones from colleges near yours could take until April, but I’m so desperate to know that next year will be different.
We haven’t talked about this in ages and maybe it’s a good thing, because it means that we’re handling this better and are able to function normally. I’m just really, really struggling right now. I don’t know what to do.
Love,
Harry
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: MAR 5 AT 10.46 PM
SUBJECT: RE: This
Okay, I have to be honest. Your email scared the shit out of me. At first, I seriously thought you were going to break up with me over Gmail. I’m really glad you didn’t.
Harry. You need to tell me this stuff. I know you inside out and by the tone of that email, I’m pretty sure you were crying. You can call me next time, alright? It doesn’t matter if you think I’m in class or hanging out with Niall or whatever. When you feel bad, you don’t need to think about everyone else first. I would have dropped everything to make you feel better. But I guess there’s a reason why you wrote me an email instead of talking to me, so I’m respecting that and didn’t call you.
If anyone gets how you feel, it’s me. There are days when I come back to my room, exhausted and sweaty and all I need is a hug. Not any hug, one from you. While I’m really grateful to have Niall, it’s just not the same. So I get it.
I think it’s okay to have days and moments like that. In the end, it proves that we still really care about each other. Missing you isn’t something that stops, it just fades sometimes into the background. My mom, bless her, sent me a guide to LDRs the other day. For the most part, it’s totally useless and has things in it I already know or that we figured out ages ago. There’s this one part, though, that blabs on about commitment and trust and whatnot. That isn’t something shocking or revolutionary, but I’m just going to put it out there.
Harry, I’m head-over-heels gone for you. Absolutely smitten. I don’t care what we have to do to get through this, but I’m determined to make us work. If you decided to go to college in the Arctic, I’d knit you some gloves and a scarf and wait patiently for you to come back. I’m pretty sure you know this, but you’re it for me. You’re my endgame and I’ll make it my hill to die on to make sure we get that. When I first realized that, it was a scary thought. It’s like you said once, I always guessed I’d have more time to mess up and to figure out how life works.
But you’re eighteen and I’m nineteen, and this is the hand we were dealt and I’m pretty fucking glad about it.
So, even if you end up going to a college on the other side of the country, I’m sure of this. Of us. I have never been so sure of anything else in my entire life.
— Lou.
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: MAR 6 AT 7.52 AM
SUBJECT: RE: This
Lou,
Thank you. I really needed this. I love you.
Love,
Harry
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: MAR 17 AT 4.53 PM
SUBJECT: News
Lou,
I don’t know how to say this. I got some of my acceptance letters in the mail today, and. I got into UPenn and ASU. What really fucking sucks is that I can’t even be happy about it. I haven’t even told my mom. And I’m not calling you because I know I’ll start crying the second I hear your voice.
So. I got into UPenn and ASU and got waitlisted for UCSB. I’m trying to hold on to the fact that it wasn’t a rejection and that maybe everything might still work out. It’s a slap in the face to think about how that there’s now the option it won’t. Of course, that was there before, but it was easier to ignore.
I know there are lots of other schools in California and I applied to two within a couple hours of you (not too bad right? Just a lot of gas money), but. I’m just really fucking gutted right now.
Love,
Harry
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: MAR 17 AT 7.42 PM
SUBJECT: RE: News
Harry, baby. H. I’m so, so sorry. I know you were getting your hopes up for UCSB. But can we please talk about how you got into ASU and UPenn?? I’m so fucking proud of you, H. Those are bomb ass colleges. My boyfriend is really THAT smart, huh?
H, please think about it: Do you really want to go to a college like UCSB when you have the option of going to an Ivy League school? This decision is completely up to you but I don’t want you to regret it. Specifically, I don’t want you to regret putting your education second for me. If you think you’d be happier in California than at UPenn, then that’s fine, but I’m not letting you turn down schools like that just so you can live across the street from me.
Long distance sucks, I absolutely agree with you about that, but. I’m saying this because I love you and because I think you need to hear this. It would be a huge fucking mistake to turn down a chance like that because you don’t like being in a LDR.
You always pushed me to train hard and to do everything to get a scholarship, which ended up working out. So this is me pushing you to not settle for a college. You deserve to go to one where not only your heart is happy, but also your brain.
— Lou.
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: MAR 23 AT 4.05 PM
SUBJECT: RE: News
Lou,
I’m sorry it took me this long to reply to your email. I think I had to let it sink in a little and try not to be mad at you or upset. At first, it hurt because it sounded like you didn’t actually want me there, but in the end, I know it’s not about that.
I had a talk with my mom and Des and my guidance counsellor.I hate the thought of us being apart for at least three more years, more like four, when these past months are already getting too much. I’m so, so scared of what might happen if I decided to go to UPenn or even ASU if I end up not getting into UCSB. What it would mean for us.
Mom said the same thing you did; she doesn’t want me to regret making my decision based only on us. So, I’m not doing that. Which basically leaves UCSB and UCLA as options that aren’t half a world away from you. Let’s hope I get in. It wasn’t the easiest decision to make, but you and my parents made me think about it. So it’s either one of those or UPenn.
Love,
Harry
P.S.: Thank you so much for that email. I needed to hear that.
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: MAR 23 AT 4.42 PM
SUBJECT: RE: News
H, one day we’re going to look back on all of this and it won’t be anything more than a blip in all of the years we’ve spent together. And we’ll get to have memories like doing Valentine’s Day over FaceTime or quizzing each other on the phone for upcoming tests. Most importantly, these emails are a direct product from being apart. You know how much I love them. And if I get three more years of them, I’ll be perfectly happy.
So if you end up going to UPenn, we’re going to be fine, I know that for a fact. Just remember, we’re endgame. I could write you emails and harass you with live-texts from class until the day I die, nothing easier than that. Easy-peasy. Don’t even worry about it.
— Lou.
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: MAY 4 AT 5.22 PM
SUBJECT: Pick up your goddamn stupid phone
Louis William Tomlinson, if I have to listen to your voicemail intro one more time, I’m going to implode. I can’t believe you have the guts not to pick up your phone when I’m trying to tell you that I got into UCSB. Hello??
Emails just aren’t cutting it right now. Where the fuck are you?
Love,
Harry.
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: APR 2 AT 6.01 PM
SUBJECT: RE: Pick up your goddamn stupid phone
I was at practice, I’m so sorry. Calling you back as I’m typing this.
— Lou.
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: AUG 28 AT 4.21 PM
SUBJECT: UCSB
Lou,
I just finished unpacking. I put that picture of us with Ernest and Doris up above my bed, and I can’t believe that next time we’ll see them, they won’t be itty bitty newborns anymore. They’re so cute, I miss them already. I’m thanking whatever God-like creature up there turned things around so that they were born the literal week before we had to leave. That just can’t be a coincidence.
My roommate, Zayn, seems very nice. We haven’t gotten to talk that much yet, but he let me have the bed by the window, so that’s a definite plus. He asked me if I wanted to walk around campus with him to try and figure out where all of our classes are and I felt really bad that I had to decline. Maybe we’ll do that tomorrow.
I’m kind of dumbstruck by the entire concept of college. Like, I’m used to our tiny little highschool with the people I’ve known since kindergarten and now I’m here where I don’t know a single person (except for you, of course) and got lost on my way to the bathroom. Any tips on surviving my first week of college?
Okay, I need to go. Some cute sophomore soccer-star just walked in and he’s pretty impatient. He says he wants to get ice-cream and go to the beach. I love ice-cream, so I’m not going to turn him down.
Love you, I hope you’re paying because I can’t find my wallet anymore. I think it’s in the last box that I shoved under the bed.
Okay, okay, I’m coming. Jesus.
Love,
Harry