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curlsandtats · 11 years

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23 Days Hiding - Chapter 13

Story Notes: Disclaimer: I do not own the name One Direction and am not afillated with Harry Styles, Louis Tomlinson, Liam Payne, Zayn Malik, Niall Horan or the One Direction team. The following story is purely fictional. Nothing in this story has actually taken place. WARNING: The following story contains sexual content and detailed scenes of injury, including blood, etc. Scenes of self-harm are also exposed. If you are uncomfortable with this type of literature, do not read this story.

Summary: Harry’s sick. Louis’ broken. Liam’s worried. Zayn’s angry. Niall’s strong. They’re all confused. (A Larry Stylinson story)

Author’s Note: [slithers out of your sink drain] hello yes i updated prais e jesus [slithers back into the darkness]

Niall shoved another chocolate bar in his mouth as he pointed with chocolatey fingers at the map that Liam held in his hands. “Can we do the skyfall thing now, Liam?” he asked, words slurred with the lump of candy shoved in his cheek.

“It’s Skyrush, Niall,” Liam corrected, ignoring the boy. It wasn’t very unusual that he was acting like a five year old at a carnival. He had melting chocolate all over his hands, most likely having to do with the four sticky bars he was eating and the five hundred he had eaten before that. But it’s chocolate, and it’s their vacation, and it’s the one time that they can be alone together without that many people bothering them and Liam’s not about to ruin it by telling Niall to stop eating the damn candy bars. “And sure. Even though the line is going to be seventy miles long.”

Zayn looked over Liam’s shoulder, resting his chin on it. “Hello. International popstars, Liam. Did you forget?”

“We’re not going to take advantage of that and cut in front of people. Okay?” Liam’s hold was firm, even through Zayn’s further pestering.

Louis and Harry hung back from the rest of them, heads ducked against the sun, aviators covering Louis' eyes and classic Ray Bans over Harry's. It was sort of weird, walking so close so that the bare skin of their arms brushed, especially after the stunt last night and Harry's reaction this morning. It was like Harry was catapulting back and forth from his old self to this unknown person that was so mysterious and forgetful and just not the same.

In reality, well, the poor kid was just confused. He was trying so hard to remember, to understand, to fit in. He just felt like an outsider. All of the boys had their own memories, and Harry felt like he was on the outside looking in. And it, well, it sucked. He didn’t want this to be like this. He just wanted everything to be like it used to be. He couldn’t exactly remember how things used to be, but. He imagined he was happy. And now he was just... confused and miserable.

He sent Louis a sidelong gaze. He had a strange look set upon his face, lips pressed into a thin line, skin pale, brows furrowed. He was trying to put everything together, to make it all make sense. He was trying to mentally force himself to get the thought through his head that Harry was not the same. He wasn’t the boy that Louis could joke around with, that he could cuddle with, that he could have naked wrestling fights before bed with. Louis couldn’t do anything with Harry that he used to do. And there was absolutely nothing he could do about that. He seemed to be having a hard time grasping that. He just wanted to grab Harry by the slim waist and pull him in and hold him tight and never let him go. He wanted his old best friend back. But he knew that was being selfish. Of course everyone wanted Harry back... it just wasn’t going to happen the way they wanted to. Harry might never be the same as he used to be. Louis--and the rest of the boys, for that matter--just had to grasp that.

Louis heaved a sigh. Everything was getting harder. He knew what he was getting into when he signed that contract. He knew about the loss of control and the clauses and everything that he could and couldn’t do.

What he didn’t know was that the one thing that would tear him down the most was the one thing he loved the most. Not his job or his family or even himself.

Harry.

“We have to go this way,” Liam said loudly, dragging Louis out of his reverie. He looked up to see Niall trying to drag Liam off in one direction, while Liam was definitely not budging. At all. He stared at the map and pointed in the opposite direction. “If you would look at the map that I am holding, you would see that the enormous yellow coaster that you cannot possibly miss is located that way. I think I would know. I am the one holding the map.”

Niall huffed, crossing and uncrossing his arms and pointing in the direction that he was trying to go in. “Please, Liam,” he muttered in a cross, sarcastic tone, brows furrowed and corners of his chocolate-stained lips turned down in a pout. “I know where I’m going.”

“You didn’t even know what the damn thing was called!”

“Oh my God!”

The five boys’ attention was pulled from Niall and Liam’s quarrel in the direction of a high pitched shriek. Here we go, Louis thought, closing his eyes and breathing out an exasperated sigh. He knew it was only a matter of time before the girls started mobbing them.

A small group of preteen girls with straightened hair in short shorts and some kind of boots--who knew what the fashion was these days--came running up to them. “Holy shit, you’re One Direction, right?” the small one with brown hair and freckles asked. Liam nodded, pressing his fingertips to his temple but smiling anyway. “Do you think we could get a pic?”

Niall nodded, licking a bit of chocolate off of his lower lip. “Of course,” he answered with a tight grin, and the girls all handed their phones to the teenaged guy that was with them, probably one of their brothers. The boy snapped a photo with each phone and sighed, giving them back to the girls.

“Can we go now?” the guy asked, rolling his eyes. Liam could say he felt exactly like the kid probably did. Really, really fucking annoyed.

The girls completely ignored him. “Could we hang out with you?” they asked Liam instead, who felt like his head was going to explode.

“I’m sorry babe,” he quickly responded, giving them each a quick hug, “but we’ve already got plans. If you’d give us your Twitters we could follow you, though!”

They squealed excitedly as each of the boys pulled out their cell phones and followed them. “Thank you so much!” they shouted, hugging them before saying goodbye and running away with a spring in their step.

“God, meeting fans gives me a headache,” Liam muttered, still rubbing at his head.

Louis’ head snapped up and he looked at Liam with wide eyes. “You okay mate?” he questioned cautiously. With the scare with Harry, he could never be too careful, even though Liam’s headache probably was a result of the heat, screaming girls, whiny Niall and a lack of sleep.

Liam nodded shallowly. “’M fine. Let’s just find this coaster so that we can go have a drink.”

“Ooh, innocent little Liam Payne wants a drink!” Zayn taunted, playfully slugging Liam in the shoulder. “Who would have thought?”

“I’m not in the mood, Zayn,” he countered with a monotonous voice. Zayn backed off. Something was really getting under Liam’s skin. “Can we just follow the map and get to the coaster, please?”

Niall stared at him for a moment before nearly screaming, “The damn thing is this way!”

Liam was about to grab onto his head and rip it straight off when Harry cleared his throat.

“Um, Liam,” he said quietly, blushing a bit. “You’ve got the map upside down. It’s actually the way Niall was trying to go.” He gave a sheepish shrug. “Sorry.”

Liam shoved out a long sigh. This was going to be a very, very long day.

The coaster only seated four to a row. Which meant one of them would have to sit alone, or two of them would have to sit alone together. Zayn and Niall had already nabbed the front row, and two middle-aged men climbed in after them, so Louis, Liam and Harry were stuck in the row behind them, accompanied by a teenaged boy with multicolored hair that looked like he would rather have exploded than sit next to them. He clearly knew who they were, and he clearly didn’t like them. Liam just ignored the kid.

“I hate heights,” Harry muttered under his breath, wringing his fists together so hard they turned white as everyone got settled into the seats and began to put on the harnesses. “Jesus Christ, what does Niall like about these things?”

“No idea.” Liam sort of snorted a bit as he buckled himself into the seat, pulling the strong shoulder harness over him as Louis watched Harry from the corner of his eye. He looked like he was about to crap his pants. “Harry, are you going to put your harness on?”

“What?”

Louis turned to look at Harry, whose hands were clasped tightly with a horrified look on his face. He was turning slightly green very quickly as well. “Harry, you know if you don’t want to do this you don’t have to--”

“No, I want to,” he interjected, pulling on the belt and fastening the harness over him. “I’ll be fine.”

“If you throw up on me I will never forgive you,” Liam commented as the attendant went by and made sure they were all firmly in the harnesses correctly. She went back to the platform and gave a thumbs-up to the ride technician.

“All clear,” came from the loudspeaker, and suddenly they were moving and Harry was grabbing onto Louis’ hand and nearly shaking.

Louis turned to him, looking concerned. “Are you alright?” he asked, worried, but taking Harry’s enormous hand into his own anyway. Harry’s hand enveloped his, his thin, tapered fingers twining effortlessly with Louis’ short, chubby ones. Louis' wrist was twisted nearly sideways for Harry to hold it, but he wasn't giving this up, not for anything. He could feel his skin like it was on fire, but he ignored it.

“Just nervous,” Harry muttered, even though his nails were digging into the skin of Louis’ hand, “promise.”

They began to tick up the steep hill that was looming above them, and with every small click Harry held Louis’ hand tighter. “Jesus, Harry,” Louis remarked, arm already cramping from the awkward position, “you’re going to grind my bones to dust. You’ll be fine, okay?”

Harry nodded, but continued to liquify Louis’ hand anyway.

They got closer and closer to the drop, and the closer they got, the less Louis could feel his hand. It’s closer and closer and closer and suddenly they were flying, zipping through the air like they were Superman or something. Louis couldn’t see Harry’s face because the momentum was keeping his head pressed back to the seat, but he could hear him screaming at the absolute top of his lungs, joyously whooping as they looped upside down and zoomed through the sky, wind whistling and feet dangling beneath them. It was amazing. They felt free. At least Louis did, anyway.

They pulled into the loading deck and stepped off, staggering and dizzy but laughing nonetheless. The grin on Harry’s face was priceless, absolutely priceless. It looked like he was about to burst at the seams from joy, and Louis smiled back because he couldn’t do anything else. Niall still had chocolate smeared all over his face and Zayn was falling all over Niall’s shoulders and Liam was making conversation with the rainbow haired kid who seemed to be trying to get away from them as fast as he possibly could.

“Liam,” Zayn called, pushing his Ray Bans back down onto his nose and slinging his arm around Niall’s shoulders. “Leave the poor kid alone, would you?”

Liam turned to face Zayn and the second he did, the boy ran down the exit ramp. And suddenly Harry was laughing so hard, so hard he was doubled over and grabbing at his stomach, holding onto Louis’ hand to keep from falling over. Everyone was staring at him laugh, which led to a whole other group of screeching girls, but it was worth it. Definitely worth it to see Harry so happy, so... himself again, for the first time in a very, very long time. They followed a few Twitters and signed a few things and were off the platform just as the next ride was leaving, and before long Niall was whining about cotton candy.

“We’ll get you whatever you want, Niall,” Liam assured him, patting him softly on the head like a puppy. Niall snorted and grinned before rolling his eyes at him. “Anything for little Niall.”

“Shut up,” Niall mumbled, shoving another chocolate bar between his teeth and taking a bite. “Chocolate World now, please? We did all these rides yesterday, come on. I want to make my own chocolate bar and buy a lot of tshirts.”

“Whatever you want, Niall,” Zayn chimed in. It was always “whatever you want, Niall.” Always.

The trio walked ahead of Harry and Louis again, naturally. It was like clockwork, like a train on its track, the way the two boys seemed to always separate themselves from the rest of the crowd, always their own little entity. Just HarryandLouis. One person, just the same as they were before.

It was just like old times.

“You know,” Harry began, swaying a bit closer to Louis so that their arms brushed together. Of course, Louis was hyperaware of the movement, so he jumped about fifty-six feet away before realizing it was only Harry, for God’s sake. “I had a lot of fun today. And yesterday, too. A lot.”

“Did you?” Louis asked, not really paying attention. They passed by the Ferris wheel again, and suddenly Louis’ mind was flooded with all his thoughts from last night, whether or not the damn photos of them on the wheel would be all over the press and and wondering why his twitter wasn’t blowing up with tweets of “LARRY IS REAL” more than it usually was. He sighed deeply, turning away from the wheel and looking back at Harry. “M’glad about that.”

“Yeah,” Harry mumbled. “Yeah.”

Great exchange, that was. Louis wanted to tear out all of his hair and peel his head like a potato.

They exited the park and approached the heaven-holy Chocolate World. Niall was beginning to bounce on his heels, and Zayn and Liam looked quite perky beside him as well. Louis figured they were just happy to be inside air conditioning, but, hey.

They walked into the building and suddenly Liam stopped short, causing Louis to nearly bump into him. He slammed his hands to the sides of his head and screwed his face up into a grimace, breathing heavily through his nose. Louis nearly shat his heart out in his pants.

“Liam, mate, are you alright?” Louis questioned worriedly. His worst fear was that what happened to Harry would happen to someone else, especially Liam. He looked like he was getting paler and paler and like he was going to pass out any second. He didn’t answer, just squeezed his eyes closed, and Louis went into action mode.

He pointed at a bench and ordered, “Niall, sit him down over there. I’m going to go get him something to drink, okay? I’ll be right back, hold on there.” He spotted a beverage refrigerator all the way across the store, on the opposite side of the entire store. So, he began to run.

With every step he took, his mind began to slow down more and more. It felt like he was running in slow motion, as if there were something pushing back on him that was keeping him from going faster, like he was sprinting against the current or the wind. Time itself seemed to stop. Louis suddenly felt very slow and lethargic and dizzy, like he could barely stand. It was like he was in some kind of vortex, suspended in time and floating above the ground, solid in the thick air and hovering and light and clear and spinning.

He hit the ground before he even felt himself falling.

Zayn, across the room, was the first to see him fall. It was like his knees just collapsed in on themselves, like his legs accordion-folded closed. He went down like a crumpled piece of paper, like some kind of ragdoll, tossed across a room and left to lay on the floor. Zayn got up and sprinted to Louis before a crowd could start to form, going straight to his knees and pulling Louis up into his lap, trying to get him to open his fucking eyes. Zayn’s first thought was something horrible, like he had just suddenly died or something, but he knew that wasn’t the case, because he was still breathing. But Zayn still felt his heart in his throat and in his stomach and racing in his chest all at the same time. He could barely breathe around the giant lump in his throat, frantic with worry and fear that something horrible would happen to his two best friends, that this would all go wrong, first Harry then Liam and now Louis, all at once, all too fast, all spinning out of control.

Until Louis cracked open his eyes.

“Jesus Christ, man,” Zayn cried as Louis got up to his feet, brushing off his knees and blinking quickly and shaking his head as if he were trying to clear it. “Don’t you ever fucking do that to me again.”

“You really think I can control when I’m going to pass out or not? News flash, I fucking can’t,” Louis hissed groggily. “Where’s Liam? Is he alright?”

“I’m fine,” Liam answered from behind him, voice clear as day. Niall stood next to him, chocolate lips pouty with worry. “Just had a little bit of a headache there, got really bad for a second. But we are getting you some water. You’re clearly dehydrated. Come on, Louis, let’s go, don’t play that ‘I’m fine’ shit on me.” Liam had said it before Louis could even open his mouth to say that he was fine, and they were soon dragging him off towards the fountains and sticking his face beneath the stream of water.

Harry stayed behind, sitting on the bench, chewing on his lip. He watched as Louis and the other stumbled off in the direction of the bathrooms, feeling worry build up behind his eyes as tears. He swallowed thickly, blinking and shaking his head as more girls came up to him, holding out ride tickets and brochures and phone cases and whatever for him to sign. He sighed, going through the motions and taking photos, but his mind was on Louis.

Because all Harry really wanted to do was hold him and kiss his face until he felt better. He had no fucking idea why. But he knew that was what he wanted.

And he was terrified of it.

#one direction fanfiction #larry stylinson fanfiction #larry stylinson #lourry #whatever lmao #update

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curlsandtats · 11 years

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Bookmarked - Chapter Three

Summary: Harry’s a bookworm. Louis doesn’t like being told what to do. But when Louis is told what to do, and crosses paths with Harry in the most unexpected place possible—a library—he can’t keep away from him.

Pairing: Larry (Harry/Louis)

Rating: M - future sexual content

Story Notes: A precious little Larry AU I’ve been leading up on… take it easy, don’t be too harsh! First AU :) Some placement/location/timing has been changed (i.e. where Harry lives) for the benefit of the story. Also, I haven’t read 17 Black and 29 Red, so don’t kill me if what I tie into the story doesn’t really match up well. it’s an AU for a reason. Each chapter will be tagged as ‘bookmarked AU,’ so you can maybe track the tag and see when I update! :)

Author’s Notes: FINALLY UPSDATED ITS SHORTER THAN USUAL IM FUCKIN G DONE WITH MYSELF PLEASE IGNORE MY SCREECHING OTONUBIUW IM GOINON TO IM SO DONE IM SO FUCKing dONE IM SORYYT THERES PROBABLY TYPOS YOU KNOW WHATI DONT REALY CARE

Wednesday came and passed, along with Thursday and Friday. Harry spent the days tucked up between the dusty bookcases in the stacks of the library. It was like his own little sanctuary—there was something amazing about the sheer silence of the room, the only sound the hissing of the heater and soft, padding footsteps overhead. He loved the way he could be completely alone. Harry liked being alone—it was one of his favorite things, to say the least. The more alone time Harry had, the better he felt; alone time often meant he could read, and always meant that he wasn’t being bothered by anyone like he usually was. He was tired of the same old game, constantly being asked by his mom to pick something up from the store or to get something for dinner or for goodness sake, Harry, please come out of your room! But the library was different—especially the stacks—the stacks were his.

It was a particularly cold day, really chilly, especially for early November. Walking to the library on Saturday morning, Harry could see his breath hanging in the air and feel the wind biting angrily at his nose. He loved fall, of course. Harry loved it when it started getting cold, because that meant enormous wool jumpers and thick peacoats and knitted scarves and beanies, especially beanies. He loved a warm cup of pumpkin spice coffee between his gloved hands and a blueberry muffin in his bag, waiting to be eaten later. Harry was admittedly a sappy guy, so with winter came blanket cocoons on the sofa, watching chick flicks and Christmas movies and trying not to cry into his hot chocolate. (Sometimes he wished he had someone to cuddle with, but that never happened, so he settled for a pillow, every time.)

Thing is—that wasn’t something to appreciate much when you’re still in the first week of November.

Harry puffed his cheeks up before taking a sip of his caramel swirl coffee—the second one he’d bought today, considering he’d dropped the first one all over himself back at the café—and wished he had brought a scarf. The two-mile walk to the library wasn’t bad at all, but when your toes are numb and the wind is blowing down your neck, it’s not all too pleasant. He quickened his pace, head bowed against the breeze, and took another gulp of coffee in an attempt to try and keep warm.

It was a few more minutes before he finally got to the library, and, pulling his Uni pass from his pocket, he scanned it at the door, buzzing it open. Coffee in one gloved hand, pass in another, with his worn brown leather bag slung over his shoulder, a black wool peacoat buttoned around his torso, and an ivory colored beanie shoved over his ears, Harry hauled the door open with his foot, keeping it open with his hip as he walked in, jamming the pass into his pocket, even though he’d need it an another two minutes. It was refreshingly warm within the doors, the air thawing out his frozen nose, and he was able to feel his toes again.

“Hi, Harry,” came a high-pitched voice, sounding more like “Hawwy” than his actual name. She always pronounced his name like that. It was Elesha, the absolutely adorable little girl with two front teeth missing, thick, black-framed glasses, and long black hair pulled up into two messy pigtails tied tight to each side of her head. She was often there, scampering around Harry’s feet, tugging on the ends of his jacket and smiling a toothless grin up at him. She often sat on Harry’s lap as he read books to her, tucked in a corner of the kid’s section, where princesses and flowers and dragons and pirates were painted on the walls, and her giggle lit up her face.

But along with Harry reading to her, Elesha loved to tell Harry stories. She had the biggest imagination you could think of—for a six year old girl, that is—and once she got started telling a tale, she couldn’t stop. Harry would sit there, leaving Elesha propped up on his lap, watching her as her green eyes glittered and she went on about the adventures of the spaceman who took a 30-year moon voyage and the pirate who was stuck out at sea and even the princess who never found a prince, but instead found another princess of her own. She was so open-minded and happy about everything and she was so aware of what went on around her. Despite her always-messy pigtails and the enormous glasses shoved upon her tiny nose, she was so smart and totally aware of her surroundings. Everything fascinated her, and each time she saw something that interested her, just the tiniest bit, she just had to run and tell Harry, as if her life depended on it.

You could call her Harry’s best friend.

“Hi, Elesha!” he said, reaching down to ruffle her hair. “What are you up to?”

She looked up at him, grinning that toothless grin that only made him smile a bit as well. Her hands were held behind her back, hiding something from him, and he could only help but wonder what it was. Knowing her, it was most likely a page from a missing book or a key or a wallet or something.

“Guess what I found,” she giggled before putting out her hand. She opened up her fist, and laying there on her palm was a small pebble, glinting with specs of mica and swirls of colored rock, shaped like a heart.

"Where'd you find that?" Harry asked, putting his enormous hand over hers. It was almost triple the size of her tiny hand, her hand with the nails painted with pink glitter polish. He knew it was nearly impossible to find an actual rock that was in such an exact heart shape as this one was.

Elesha bit her lip, her big blue eyes sparkling with excitement. "I went to the beach the other day," she grinned. "My mommy took me for a walk on the sand and we found lots of pretty shells. Wanna hear the story?"

Harry looked down at her, then over at the door that would eventually lead to his stacks. He could still feel the book in his bag, seemingly weighing him down, and he didn't want to be this distracted when she was telling him a story. He loved watching the way she animated them and interacted with him, and he wouldn't sit there and be distracted like he was. Not for the world.

"Not right now, Elesha, okay?" he asked her, softly smiling down at her. He got down on his knee so that he could more easily talk to her, and she reached out and poked his dimple with a giggle. He grinned wider, chucking. "I've got a couple of things to do."

Harry watched as her face dropped for a moment, but quickly picked back up into a smile. "Okay!" she quipped, smiling toothlessly. "But before you go, I want you to have this." She reached out, placing the pebble in Harry's palm.

He felt heat rush to his face immediately, almost embarrassed that he was blushing like this, before he scooped her up into his arms and squeezed her into a tight hug.

Slipping the rock into his pocket, he let her go and lifted his wrist and waved a gloved hand at her before turning and heading towards the elevators. He had things on his mind—things like getting down to his space between the bookcases downstairs in the stacks without getting noticed.

Harry had different ways of getting down into the stacks without being chewed out by someone. He wasn't exactly allowed down there, because it was an inventory of all the books that people had stopped checking out years ago. When the library got new, in-demand books, the oldest and most unused ones ended up down there, left to gather dust like the rest of the shelves. It was a staff-only place, but Harry figured out a way to weasel himself inside.

It usually involved the staircase. The elevator was nice, sure, but it only took you to the basement if you had a staff pass, which Harry didn't have. The staircase only led to the basement for people with a Uni pass, since a few classes were held in rooms down there sometimes, and Harry had that pass. He'd go down to the lowest level and stop at the door there, scan his pass, and walk in. Navigating the endless hallway was only a bit difficult, and then there was a door, which was supposed to be locked at all times, according to a sign on it. It was never locked, though, because the lock had totally broken on it. The door led to a barely-lot hallway, and at the end of the hallway were two heavy wooden doors that squeaked like they hadn't been used in years. Which they probably hadn't.

Harry made his way down, sipping his coffee nonchalantly as he shoved open the thick wooden doors and quickly found his usual spot—a window seat that was placed below a narrow window, which was up so high that Harry couldn't see out of it. Even though it butted up to the ground outside, sunlight still streamed through it, casting a glow along the bookcases across from it and letting just enough light on the seat below it.

As he dropped his bag and shrugged off his coat and nestled into the cushiony bench, Harry couldn't stop thinking. At least he was alone now, because his mind was driving him crazy.

It was that stupid book, and he knew it. It was that book, the one tucked inside a folded pocket of his bag, the one with the bright cover. 17 Black 29 Red. The dumb thing had sent his mind into overdrive from the moment he picked it up.

He had finished it Tuesday night (after the whole...thing had happened), but it wasn't the book itself that drive him nuts. It was what the book made him think about and what it made him do. He was constantly questioning himself now—was he gay or was he just horny? What about that damned book turned him on so much? It wasn't even just that one scene, either—there were multiple ones, and each one had him more wrecked than the last. Every time he thought about it, it gave him a headache.

It was throwing his entire routine off, messing up his hand movements, making him fumbly and forgetful. In the past three days he'd lost his wallet and his library card, simply because he'd forgotten where he'd put them. Right after getting a new library card, he found the old one. On Wednesday, he went to drive to the Tesco in town to pick up some groceries and tried to unlock his Mustang with his house keys. He'd almost set his house on fire while trying to cook dinner on Thursday. On Friday, he'd tried to push a door that said pull, and in turn walked face first into it and landed on his ass. And just this morning, while sitting in the tiny café that he went to each day, he knocked an entire coffee onto his lap and had to go home and change. It was starting to worry him; in the least, it was extremely annoying.

Even now, he could feel the heat of the book almost radiating through his bag and covering him in uncomfortable warmth. He shoved the brown satchel away from him with his foot and reached down, grabbing a random book from beneath the bench. Not paying attention to the title or the summary, he opened it and began to read, desparate to find something else to put his mind on, for fear that he was going to drive himself absolutely mad.

But, a few minutes into reading, he found his mind wandering. The book just wasn’t grabbing his attention like he thought it would. He was restless and squeamish and couldn't focus. He could almost feel a searing heat over him, like the temperature was rising by the moment, suffocating him. Harry groaned, kicking the stupid bag away from him. It tipped over, everything falling out of it, and he threw down the book in his hands, nearly tearing his hair out.

What the fuck was even going on with him? Everything was messing up and it was all this book's fault! He felt a bit dizzy as he shoved everything back into the bag, nearly crushing his wallet and the muffin in there. His hands were shaking when he grabbed the stupid book, and he realized he was trembling in anger. Everything was so wrong right now and he couldn't take it. Harry liked regularity. He liked his schedule and liked waking up each day and knowing exactly what he would be doing. He needed everything to stay the same. He hated change, couldn’t be off-balance in his schedule. But now, he read one book and all of that turns to shit. It’s like his whole schedule didn't even exist.

"What did I even fucking do?" he groaned, throwing his bag at the stack of shelves across from him. He sucked in a sharp breath as a shelf unhinged from the stack, sending its contents tumbling to the ground and piling themselves on top of his bag. This was going to make him lose his mind. He forcefully ripped the bag out from under the books and dragged it out, ignoring the other shelf that dislodged and fell all over the floor. He could fix that later. Right now, he just had to get the fuck out of there.

He slung his bag over his shoulder and brushed off the butt of his pants, grabbing the ridiculously boring book he was trying to read in his hand. As he headed towards the huge, heavy doors, he dug through his bag and pulled out his library card, turning it over in his hands, rubbing his thumb over the smooth plastic. The hallway outside the small, dusty room was just as hot as the stacks were, despite the darkness of the hallway. Harry blankly wondered if the heater was broken, but honestly, he didn’t care much. The heat was making it hard to breathe, and he was sweating beneath his white jumper.

Finally making it upstairs, Harry headed for the front desk. He didn’t recognize the person who was seated there, though—and he was on a first-name basis with all the librarians. The guy had his head bent, light brown hair hanging. Harry had no idea who he was, but he pushed the book down onto the desk. The boy sitting there looked up, and Harry almost jumped backwards, so taken aback. His eyes were so damn blue, and those thick, black glasses perched upon his slender nose, and those eyelashes…Jesus.

See, Harry never was struck by physical appearance, not even girls’. Sure, he’d look at girls and think, ‘Yeah, she’s pretty,’ but he never stared or remembered body shapes or physical details, and certainly never got hit in the gut and lost his breath when someone met his gaze. But this guy—Harry had no idea who he was, but damn, he was pretty. He had nearly angelic features, bronzed, glowing skin and gorgeous eyes. Harry just wanted to run his fingers through his hair. He bet the strands were silky, soft. He bet that they would slip between his long, slender fingers like water, and—

"Are you going to check out a book or just stare at me? Because if it's the latter then I suggest you leave before I punch you in the mouth."

Harry snapped out of his daze and looked up, opening his mouth to speak. As usual, nothing came out. The other boy's words were harsh and his expression was sour, but somewhere in those eyes behind those boxy glasses, Harry could see that this boy was lonely and sad. He just didn’t know how to help him—the kid could barely order a milkshake without feeling awkward and stumbling over his tongue and turning bright red.

He placed the book down on the desk in front of the blue-eyed boy, pushing it forward and reaching into his bag with fumbling fingers to pull out his wallet and tug out his library card. The boy snatched it from Harry's fingers, scammed the card, stamped the book and tossed them back carelessly at Harry. Harry took them both into his hands, watching in slight disbelief as the boy kicked his boot-clad feet up onto the desk.

Once Harry didn't move after small while, the boy looked up at him through his eyelashes and muttered, "You're done here, right?" Harry nodded slowly. "Okay, good, then fuck off, because I've got a nap to take."

Harry blinked a few times before turning to leave, walking away slowly. That searing heat he had felt before was starting to return, creeping up his neck and burning his face in a scarlet blush. He didn’t know why he was so embarrassed; the boy was just an asshole, that's all. Harry could just ignore him, but for some reason he was suffocating, choking, pressured down into a small nothingness and barely able to breathe. He had to get outside.

As he neared the doors, he heard the head librarian snap, "Louis! Feet off the desk!"

Louis. So that was his name.

Louis followed Harry everywhere.

Not literally, of course. He seemed to hate Harry's guts without even knowing him. But Harry couldn't stop thinking about him; not as he was making dinner that night, not as he was showering, not as he lay in bed, and really, not even while he slept. He was constantly plagued with the image of the feathery-haired boy with the sad, blue eyes.

Each time Harry went to the library (which was every day, really) he silently combed through the bookcases and peeked through the gaps between the books just to get a better look at the gorgeous man named Louis. Harry would never talk to him, of course. But nevertheless, the boy was beautiful, all cheekbones and tanned skin and eyes and button nose.

Too bad he was a dick.

Every time Harry caught even the nearest glimpse of Louis, he had a puss on his face. He snapped at people, he slept on the job, he ignored orders and he was messy. He dressed like he didn't care about himself or much of anything, really, with band t-shirts and black jeans so tight they were nearly painted on him, bottomed off with either black Timberland boots or battered Converse. Occasionally, he came in with a beanie shoved over his head and a hoodie slung over his shoulders, wearing baggy sweatpants and thin-soled Converse. It was entirely different from Harry and his super-tight jeans, cozy jumpers and ankle-high boots and dress shoes or his favorite, falling-apart pair of white Chuck Taylor low-tops. Harry honestly didn’t know why he was so oddly attracted to this kid. Not even in the romantic way; he was just fascinating. All his life, Harry had been surrounded by routine, and Louis kind of made things a bit different. It made Harry feel both unsafe and intrigued.

But, overall, Harry knew getting tied in with this kid would bring him trouble. He didn’t know Louis, but just by the way he looked and the way he carried himself, Harry knew he was probably bad news. He had caught wind by the third day of Louis working there that he had been sentenced to this—sentenced—as community service for some huge crime. Some said he vandalized a cemetery, some said he robbed a corner store and some lunatic said he killed a dog and ate it raw, but that might have been a little extreme. But Harry didn’t want to be involved with people committing any crimes. He’d much rather sit in between piles of dusty books with a coffee mug clutched between his hands and a frayed paperback with taped covers open in his lap as he scanned the pages.

Harry always thought he preferred being alone. And he really did—he was just too fumbly and quiet and awkward to be taken seriously around people. But he was just really lonely sometimes, too. Each time he saw Louis it was amplified, for some unknown reason.

And each time Harry caught Louis’ gaze, he really couldn’t help but wonder why he had the same sadness in his eyes as Harry did.

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