To Be So...

Chapter 3: Nonna

Chapter 3 | Present

"Then when? Because, Haz, I want to be friends again. I want to at least be able to talk again. Anything, please."

"I want to be something again too." He mumbled, softly. I was barely able to hear it over the loud chirping of insects. "But I don't know what yet. I don't know how to do this yet."

"You don't always have to know everything, Harry. You don't have to have a plan for this. We can just try to be friends. We were best friends. Even now, when we are hurting because of each other, we so easily fall back into being there for each other. That has to account for something, doesn't it?"

"I just feel like if I don't have a plan for it, then it won't work out, it won't go right. That we will mess it up. And I don't want to mess this up again. We've messed it up so many times. How many more until the damage is permanent, irreversible?"

It didn't feel like we were talking to each other anymore. It felt like we were talking at each other. The words that clouded my thoughts, that ached to be spoken, found their way onto my lips. I felt desperate – to let him know that I've grown, changed. I wanted to tell him how sorry I was for what happened. I wanted to know if he was sorry.

I could hear how guarded his words were, scared to let us slip and fall into this hole we so often found ourselves in – trying hard to climb out. We sat on the phone again in silence, both too scared of what words would fall from our lips.

"How about this?" He said, softly, cautiously. "What if we just talk, no heavy stuff. On the phone, or texting. Or something like that. We promise no apologies, no talking about what happened? Not until we are ready to talk about the heavy stuff." He spoke slowly and enunciated every syllable carefully and intently.

"Yeah, H. That sounds good. No heavy stuff," I repeated, like the words were foreign to my lips.

Because no heavy stuff was foreign to our relationship. It was full of the heavy, the bad, the ugly. It was hard.

But when we were together, when we were good, all the bad was outweighed by the fact that we felt weightless, drifting on your back in the most beautiful pool, sun beaming down effortlessly. He was the kind of person that always made the heavy stuff feel like a light load, like a basket of laundry instead of the ton of bricks it actually was.

I didn't know this no heavy stuff would even entail. Did we talk about food? TV shows? Did he even have time to watch stuff like that? Would he even want to talk about that kind of stuff with me? But I was so determined to return to having some kind of relationship with him, that I agreed.

"No shade, Lou. I wood like to go out on a limb here and be friends."

Oh, God. His puns. He laughed harder than I did, and I laughed pretty hard. I could hear his hand slapping his own knee. I found myself rolling my eyes with a giant smile plastered on my face.

"Sorry, mate. I can't hear you. I don't think my international plan includes really shitty puns." I said, walking over to my bedroom and plopping down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling while we spoke on the phone.

"Ouch, that hurts," he said, voice full of mock offense. "Can't believe you think my jokes are shitty. That hurts like a birch."

"If you're gonna make terrible puns, I'm gonna hang up. You're making my ears bleed."

He laughed again. Even though he wasn't in my room, I felt warm. We joked around for a couple more minutes before he said "I actually do have to go, Lou. But we will talk soon, okay?"

"Yeah, okay. Have a good night, Harry."

"You too, get some sleep. Night, Louis."

That night, when I eventually did fall asleep, I dreamt of the sun. I felt warmth wrap around me like a blanket, and I basked in every last drop.

That's how this no heavy stuff friendship started with Harry. The next day, he sent me a picture of a turtle that was by the lake he was staying at. I replied with a gif of the baby turtle from Finding Nemo.

I sent him a picture of the lasagna I was trying to make while attempting to teach myself how to cook. He replied that it's the first time he'd seen me make something that actually looked edible.

The next day, he sent me a picture of a run-down tattoo parlor that was called Lou's Toos. He said you get your tattoos done here? must be why they all look like shit. I told him they're better than the doodle sheet a toddler did on his arm.

We had been going back and forth like this for two weeks, easy quips and light conversations. I tried to be effortless with my responses, like I hadn't spent thirty minutes thinking about the right thing to say. Only to remember that I was doing the exact same thing I told him not to do; overthinking and planning everything. So, then I'd type out the first thing that came to my mind, just to delete it immediately after.

Most recently, he texted me a picture of this alfredo pasta dish I would order at least once every time we went to LA. There was an Italian restaurant right next to the studio we recorded in ran by this big busted old lady with a mean face. Inside, she was sweet, after you got past the hardened exterior. She insisted that we call her Nonna.

He didn't send a caption with this picture.

I knew it wasn't his usual order. He always got the chicken piccata. But instead, he got the alfredo I did. How the hell was I supposed to reply to this? As I stared at the picture, trying my hardest not to think too much into it, three grey dots popped up.

Fuck, he was typing.

I swiped up, to close out of the message. I didn't want him to see that I was obsessively staring at the photo.

His message was Nonna says hi x

Jesus. Was that x from Nonna? Was it from him?

He was obviously with her, so I couldn't take forever to reply or else it'd be awkward.

Hi Nonna. Hope she's doing okay x

She says that you need come visit, she misses you.

~

A/N:

Aw, they're getting along! The next chapter will be in the past. Since the story's focus in on H&L working through their differences, we first are gonna show what those differences are, even if they hurt. Because warning, ouch.

Thanks for reading!