Chapter 3

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Louis, Liam, Zayn and Niall got into Louis's car, and they skipped the rest of the school day and went to Nandos to cheer Niall up. Niall didn't talk much about Harry after that, but he ate silently, and the boys were worried about him. Niall, although he ate at a slow pace where he usually was a vacuum and basically inhaled his food, now he was eating it piece by piece.

They tried to distract him by talking about other stuff, but that didn't work. Niall was even listening to what they were saying. He was too caught up in his thoughts and memories.

They ended up dropping Niall home, and Niall ran in and called his parents and told them everything. He said that he saw Harry and he was here in Doncaster and told him what he looked like now and even read out the messages from his group to emphasize his worry for his friend. His parents had cried over the phone, and Maura had rushed home to talk to Niall.

They were seeing Niall had shaken Harry up. It didn't help that he felt Louis's eyes on him the whole period, and whenever he did, Louis had a worried and sympathetic expression. Harry hated it. He hated that Niall and Louis's presence had shaken him up. He didn't want to get attached. He couldn't afford it. Once he gets close to someone, he would have to move away. He never stays in one place for that long, not to mention how far from okay he was.

He knew being his friend would be hard because Harry can't be a good friend when he isn't even present half the time. If he wants to be a good friend, then he will have to drop his walls and let all the trauma he had experienced and continue to experience will come flooding in along with all the pain and anger and sadness that he had spent years pushing down. He liked the fact that he was numb. He wanted not to feel anything. He liked not reaching to all the trauma because he didn't think he could handle it if he did. He knows he can't take it. Who can? Years of abuse both physically, mentally, and sexually. Years of self-hatred for the death of his sister and mum and his father walking out. Years of loneliness and isolation. No. He can't open those flood gates and most certainly won't allow it.

Harry shakes his head and focuses on his teacher, already deciding that he will not let Niall and Louis destroy what he spent years building. They won't destroy his source of comfort. With that, he went back to work and stopped thinking about it. At least consciously, he stopped thinking about it, but subconsciously he had a mental agreement with himself.

One half of his brain was screaming at him to run to Niall and his family. Run to the only people who were still there for him after that horrible holiday. Allow himself to finally make a friend, one who seemed genuine and wanting nothing but the best.

The other half was screaming at him to ignore them and continue to live the way he is right now. This is safe. This is consistent. This is what works, so why change it?

Since it was his subconscious, he didn't hear any of it but had an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

He went through the rest of the day alone, emotionless and half dead.

Luckily his last period was free; he usually goes to the library and does his school work but decided to return to the group home and start lunch and dinner. He knows, either way, he will get his nightly visit from Simon and maybe even Nick, but right now, he wants to leave school.

Walking home-limping home-Harry, ran through the number of different recipes he needed for tonight and his to-do list.

Once he was back, he started cooking in peaceful silence and felt Simon's eyes on him. He noticed that Simon came in with his laptop and watched him as he cooked whenever he cooked. He doesn't care. He doesn't because why should he? Not like saying something would change anything.

He heard the others come back just as he was finishing up. He turned from the stove with a pot of soup to pour it into a bowl, but Greg shoved him, making him trip and spilling the soup all over Miles and Nick. Harry sighed when they screamed and put the pot on the kitchen island.

Numbness - Larry Stylinson AUWhere stories live. Discover now