Chapter Text
The sleepy autumn air should be soothing to seven year old Louis, but it only riles him up. He's bored, and extremely so. His mum has only recently started to allow to him ride his bike around the neighborhood, and that's only because they live in a secluded cul-de-sac where everybody knows everybody.
As his wheels press against the pavement with each turn, and his legs move with the pedals, he does his best to keep his balance (he no longer needs training wheels, thank you very much). Sunlight filters through the trees until it splashes across the road in yellow splotches, and there are leaves everywhere. He doesn't know much about why the leaves change, or how it happens, but he knows that fall means Halloween is coming soon. And for that, he is excited.
His breath catches when he sees Niall, Harry, Zayn, and Liam - his neighbors, playing footie together with what looks like some new goals and a fresh, bleached and clean looking ball. They're in Zayn's front yard, which is long and flat. So, usually, it's where they choose to play their games. Maybe someone got a new set for their birthday, and they're trying it out.
When Louis calls out to them, they groan and stop playing. Liam shifts from one foot to the other, and Harry narrows his eyes.
"What." The curly haired boy's words are staccato and uninterested, and Louis frowns. They're all two years older than him; third graders who don't seem to find any appeal in a first grader's childish antics. Despite his best efforts (there's no one else in the neighborhood to play with who isn't a grown-up), they just don't want anything to do with him.
"Can I play?" He's far away enough that he almost has to yell a little bit. He's got one leg steadying him on the ground, and he's holding the handles of his bike as tightly as he can. He doesn't want to fall off in front of the older kids - the cooler kids.
"We've got four of us, though, and we don't want uneven teams," Zayn lies apologetically, and Louis frowns. He's not stupid. They don't want to play with him. "Maybe tomorrow." That's also a lie, because Zayn said the same thing yesterday and now it's tomorrow and Louis is being told no, again. His head is spinning with rejection and confusion and, most of all, disappointment.
"Oh. Okay," he sighs, turning the handles to the left so he can spin his bike around and go home. Suddenly, he's not very interested in being outside anymore. He pedals as fast as he can without falling off, before finally reaching his house and hastily discarding his bike into the garage.
When he walks through the front door, his mother is tending to his baby sister in the kitchen, but she glances over her shoulder to smile at her son.
"Did you have fun today?" She raises a brow, and Louis, too young to understand the concept of bottling up your emotions for the sake of other people, erupts into tears.
"They don't want to play with me, Mummy," he weeps, running to hug one of her legs and melt his salty tears into her jeans. He doesn't need to say who, because there's no one else Louis is so interested in spending time with.
After putting his sister in the high chair (with difficulty, considering she had a kid attached to her leg), Louis's mum crouches down to his height and brushes his hair out of his eyes.
"It's not because of you personally, sweetheart," she reassures him as he sniffles rather loudly. "They're older than you, and two years is a lot when you're a kid. You mature very quickly."
"What does mature mean?" Louis lets his head rest on her shoulder, and she rubs his back.
"It means... Well, if someone is more mature than you are, it means that they are less like a baby and more like a grown-up," she does her best to explain in a way he'll understand. He pulls away from their embrace, and frowns.
"What? I'm not a baby. And they're not grown ups," he protests in frustration, and she sighs. So maybe that wasn't the best explanation.
"Of course not. But to them, you're a baby, because being nine and being seven is very different. Would you want to play with a five year old?" She asks, brushing some tears from his eyes. He's quiet for a minute, and he remembers that his cousin is five. The kid mostly runs in circles and screams for no reason at all.
"No, I s'pose not," he's calming down, now, much to his mother's relief. Her face melts into a warm smile, and she pats his shoulder.
"See? I'm sure when you're a bit older, they'll absolutely adore you. Maybe even as much as I do," she reasons. "Well, maybe not as much as I do. But close."
Louis doesn't say anything after that, just makes his way into the living room to watch cartoons for the rest of the day and hope, by some odd miracle, the boys come knocking on his door to ask for him to join them.
~
They don't come ask, but it's alright. He gets very caught up in what he's watching, and before he realizes it, it's time for dinner and bed. After he's tucked into his quilt and holding his stuffed bear against his chest, he glances out of the window beside his twin mattress and stares into the night sky, littered with tiny stars. He can see Harry's house from where he's lying, and Niall's is a little ways after that. The homes are pretty nicely spaced apart, but close enough that walking between them is a piece of cake - Louis's mother does it all the time. She and Zayn's mother take turns babysitting each other's children every once in a while.
He hates feeling lonely, it's a heavy feeling in his chest that tugs on his heart and makes him want to drag his feet on the floor. Sure, he has friends at school, and they have good times together at recess, but it's not the point. He wants to be accepted by the boys he's known since birth.
His mother says that when he and Harry were extremely little, perhaps even the size of his sister, they played together all the time. Louis doesn't remember a single ounce of it, of course, but he's heard stories. Their parents were very close (still are, just busy most of the time) and Miss Anne - as Louis has always known her - would bring Harry over on her hip when she wanted to talk to Louis's mother.
Apparently, they would sit at the kitchen counter and chatter while Louis crawled around on the floor, and Harry toddled closely behind him. When the curly haired boy was old enough to speak, he would angrily defend Louis from any potential wrongdoing against him, and would run to his side when he cried. He even tried to pry the baby from his own mother's arms once, and threw a tantrum when Anne scolded her son for being so rude.
Things are so different, though, that Louis can hardly believe any of these stories are true. Harry turns his nose up at Louis, and if he waves to him at school, the neighbor pretends not to see him. If he can't ignore Louis, he'll shoo him away with an embarrassed look and a swat of his hand.
As he falls asleep, he dreams of a world where he is nine years old too - old enough to play footie with the big kids and laugh at their jokes and be their favorite friend.
~
"Poor Louis came home crying the other night," Jay croons into the phone, balanced between her cheek and her shoulder as she cleans some toys up off of the family room floor. Her daughter is asleep in her room, so she has at least an hour to get some cleaning done.
"What? Why?" Anne asks from the other line, before pulling the device slightly away from her face. "Harry, take those muddy shoes off before you walk into my house. Do I need to tell you every time?" There's a pause, and then she's back. "Sorry, continue."
"He feels bad because he's the youngest out of all of the boys, poor kid, and they don't want to include him in their games. I've tried to explain to him that it's just the age, and that they're going to be like that for a while, but he's just miserable."
"They exclude him?" This seems like news to Anne, by the tone of her voice, and Jay nods. She then remembers her friend can't hear her. Oops.
"Well, yes. I knew it would happen eventually, but he's taking it really hard," she replies, and Anne is quiet for another minute.
"I know what we'll do. I'll have the boy trick-or-treat with Louis on Halloween, and they'll all become good friends again," she hums, and Jay simply agrees.
~
October 31st is a chilly night, and Jay is arguing with Louis about wearing a coat in the foyer.
"But vampires don't wear jackets, mum," he whines from behind his mask. He's got fake fangs in his mouth, and his mother had used a bit of makeup to put some redness around his eyes and to make his face look paler than usual. For an added touch, he' got fake blood dribbling down one corner of his mouth.
"Fine, fine. But if you catch a cold, you've only got yourself to blame," she says, before the two of them leave the house. Zayn's mom is watching his sisters tonight, and she'll be visiting Mrs. Malik after walking Louis over to Harry's house, where the boys are meeting.
He clings to her tightly as they shuffle through the dark, but Harry's porch light guides them. As soon as the older boys come into view, milling about, Louis releases his mother's hand and stands up straighter. She'd laugh at how cute he is if she didn't feel so bad for him in this situation.
"Hello boys!" She waves, and he's immediately embarrassed. No one else's mum had to walk them here. Just his. "Thank you for letting Louis join you tonight." When Louis says nothing, she elbows him lightly.
"Thank you," he mumbles, holding his bucket at one side. It's shaped like a jack-o-lantern. Zayn is dressed as Frankenstein, Liam is Batman, and Harry looks like a zombie. The only one missing is Niall, so Louis assumes that the person under the white sheet with two eye holes is the blonde boy.
"It's, erm, it's no problem," Liam smiles awkwardly, as Louis turns to walk towards them. His mother catches his arm, though, and pulls him in for a kiss on the cheek.
"Have fun, sweetie," she coos, and he nods before walking into the light of the porch. It's chilly out, and the wind is blowing just slightly. Leaves are kicked up and tumble past their feet, and it's dead silent.
The other four boys look as though they are absolutely dreading this. Their eyes are distant, their sighs drawn out, and their silence says a lot.
"Well, let's go. Keep up, Tomlinson," Harry strides towards the road, calling over his shoulder. Tomlinson? No one calls Louis that. At least, not that he can remember. He scampers forward to keep up with them, and chews on his lip once he's matching their strides.
"I like your suit, Liam," he compliments, because his mother says to compliment someone when you want to be their friend. The taller boy glances down at him, and he seems to pity him, because he smiles sadly.
"Thanks, Louis. You look really scary." At this, Louis beams and flashes his fake teeth. The older boy ruffles his hair, and says fondly, "cute."
Cute? They still see him as a baby. He wants to cry, sit down and sob, but that would prove their point entirely. He needs to act more like them. But how?
They reach the first house, decorated festively with smiling pumpkins and fake black cats. Niall rings the doorbell, and when his own mother answers the door, she pretends to be surprised.
"Well well, who are these scary people?" She asks with a giggle, and is then bombarded with the phrase Trick or Treat! from all five boys at once. As she hands them candy, Louis can't help but squeal with delight. He always forgets how much he loves this holiday until he's living it.
They walk from house to house, and Louis is ignored for the most part, but he doesn't mind trailing behind them while they talk on about things he isn't paying attention to. He skips from time to time, counting his steps when he gets too bored to do anything else.
When the night ends, the boys bring Louis back to his house with a full bucket of candy and a smile on his face. They say goodbye to him in front of his mother, but without very much enthusiasm. He doesn't care. He's grown very used to their attitude towards him, and besides, he's got so many sweets, he could live off of them for the rest of his life.
~
Monday rolls around and Louis sleepily climbs onto the school bus once it comes to a stop in front of his house. His mother waves to him from the driveway, blowing him a kiss that he watches from the window. As soon as she's no longer in sight, he settles into the brown leather supporting his back and clutches his backpack against his chest. However, his peace is disturbed almost immediately by a third grader he doesn't recognize.
"Your mummy still walks you to the school bus? What a baby," he teases, and Louis's eyes water. God, he really is a baby. He can't even keep the waterworks in when he's being made fun of. Before he can answer, Harry is shouting from a few seats back.
"Leave him alone, Thomas. You wet your pants in class yesterday." The entire bus erupts into roaring laughter, and the mean boy settles back into his own seat with hot cheeks and his arms crossed over his chest. A smile spreads itself over Louis's face, and he turns around to thank his neighbor.
Harry ignores him, though, and goes back to joking with Niall. Oh well. A brief moment of kindness is better than none at all.
He watches the trees pass in a blur, and the sounds the bus makes as it rolls over bumps and chugs down the road pleasantly remind him that he'll be in school soon enough, his favorite place to be. He loves his colorful classroom, his happy teacher, and his funny classmates. He gets along with most of them, and unlike the boys in his neighborhood, they find him hilarious.
~
Recess is always a blast, but Louis's closest friend, Stan, is out sick today. Therefore, he's standing underneath the monkey bars and unsure of what to do as he watches his peers chase each other and sprint underneath the sun. He has the same recess hour as Harry and Liam, and usually he wouldn't bother either of them, but he's got no choice. What's a lad supposed to do, stand alone and stare at his own feet? No thank you.
He catches sight of Harry, first, and quickly hurries over to where he's standing. He's with a girl, and they're beside the swings. Harry's laughing at something she says, and she smiles widely at him. When Louis reaches them, they don't notice him at first.
"I think you're very pretty," Harry admits, cheeks turning slightly pink, and she is about to respond when Louis chimes in.
"I agree, Harry. You have very pretty hair," Louis thinks maybe if he compliments her too, they can all be friends together. But by the look on Harry's face, he isn't thinking the same thing. In fact, he looks mortified.
"Go away, Louis," he groans, embarrassed and his voice in a hushed whisper. He has to look down at the boy, in his blue overalls and red t-shirt underneath.
"Why? I thought we were-"
"We're not friends, Louis. I don't want to be your friend," he snaps it out so quickly and Louis's eyes widen, and then he's turning on his heel and walking away. His face is hot. Didn't Harry defend him this morning? Why did he just tell him to go away? And why did he just say that?
Before he's too far away, he hears the girl say quietly,
"That was really mean, Harry. I think I'll go talk to Sarah, now." Louis gets some solace in that, as he keeps his back turned. Maybe now Harry feels as alone as he does. Maybe he hates himself for making Louis almost cry.
Scratch that. He actually cries once he's far enough away that the curly haired boy won't notice.