Conformity (Larry Stylinson AU)

Six.

I will never understand why people can't comprehend the concept of wanting to be left alone. If you don't say you want to be left alone but you act like you do, you get constantly bombarded with the overbearing question of 'Are you okay?'. But, if you do actually say you want to be left alone, whoever's asking gets offended and you have to get over yourself long enough to comfort them when you were the one hurt in the first place.

Mum can tell something's wrong the second I step in the door. I think mother's develop a sixth sense when they have kids that gives them the keen ability to always know when something's wrong.

"What's wrong, Haz?"

I shake my head and toss my book-bag onto the threadbare armchair. I tromp into the kitchen to grab a glass of water with my head still reeling with all that transpired. I feel almost ill.

Mum shadows me with a worried expression etched into her features. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, don't worry about it," I breathe after inhaling a half-glass of disappointingly warm water.

"Did something happen with Louis?"

Hearing his name strikes a nerve. I grit my teeth. "I said I'm fine. Please,"

I feel only slightly guilty when I push past her and speed to my room, which I used to share with my sister. Thankfully that is no longer the case. I shut the white-painted wooden door and block out the world. My brain is still turning, even faster than my stomach and I take the weight off my feet, laying in my bed. It takes everything I have not to scream all the swear words I know.

I start to second guess myself. Maybe I was too hard on Louis; I know how much it can hurt to be called a freak or faggot or useless or disgusting, and to be treated like an outcast. I also love Louis, and I would be called all of those things and get beaten up daily if it meant I got to be with him.

It hurts that I don't mean as much to him.

Kissing him remains the best feeling in the world, contrariwise. I fantasied about those lips on mine since the first time I saw them, and it was better than words. It was like having the weight of the world lifted off my shoulders. It's funny how just pressing my lips against his can do that; make me feel alive again.

My five minutes of peace are interrupted by a light tap on the door, followed by the entry of my mother. I sigh. "I said I'm fine."

"Harry, I'm on your side. You can talk to me,"

"Nothing's wrong, Mum. I've just got a headache."

She scowls at me. "I don't appreciate you lying to me. Tell me what's going on,"

I'm getting very frustrated at this point; all my rage and sadness bubbling inside my chest. I feel my eyes fill with water again. "Mum, please, I just need to be alone."

"At least let me know what's going on-"