After (Larry Version)

~*Chapter 93*~

This woman I've lived with values her sense of control so much that there are few times I've managed to surprise her, let alone stun her. But here, I have really, truly stunned my mother. Her posture is erect and her face has fallen.
"What did you just say?" she asks slowly.
"You heard me. This is our apartment—as in, we both live here." I put my hands on my hips for dramatic effect.
"There is no way that you live here. You can't afford a place like this!" she scoffs.
"Would you like to see our lease? Because I have a copy."

"This whole situation is even worse than I thought..." she says, then shifts her eyes to stare behind me, as if I'm not even worth looking at while she calculates her formula for my life. "I knew you were being foolish by messing around with that... that boy. But you are just plain stupid for moving in with him! You don't even know him! You haven't met his parents—aren't you embarrassed to be seen in public with him?"
My anger boils over. I glance at the wall, trying to gather some composure, but it's too much and before I can stop myself, I am in her face. "How dare you come into my home and insult him! I know him better than anyone, and he knows me better than you ever could! And I have actually met his family, his father at least. You want to know who his father is? He's the damn chancellor of WCU!" I scream. "That should satisfy your sad little judgmental streak."
I hate throwing Harry's father's title around, but this is the type of thing that would jolt her.
Probably because he heard the break in my voice, Harry comes out of the bedroom with a worried expression. He comes over and stands beside me and tries to pull me back from my mother, just like last time.
"Oh, great! And here's the man of the hour," my mother mocks, and gestures wildly at him. "His father is not the chancellor." She half-laughs.

My face is red and soaked with tears, but I couldn't care less. "Yes, he is. Shocked? If you weren't so busy being a judgmental bitch, you could have talked to him and found that out. You know what? You don't even deserve to know him. He has been there for me in ways you never were, and there is nothing—and I mean nothing—you can do to keep me away from him!"
"You do not speak to me that way!" she screams and steps closer. "You think just because you got yourself a fancy little apartment and put some eyeliner on that you are suddenly a man? Honey, I hate to break it to you, but you look like a awful , living with someone at eighteen!"
Harry's eyes narrow at her in warning, but she ignores him.
"You better end this before you lose your virtue, Louis . Just take a look in the mirror, then look at him! You two look ridiculous together,you had Elijah, who was great for you, and you threw him out for... this!" She gestures to Harry.
"Elijah has nothing to do with this," I say.
Harry's jaw clenches and I silently "beg him not to say anything."

"Elijah loves you, and I know you love him. Now stop this rebellious charade and come with me. I will get you back into your dorm, and Elijah will certainly forgive you." She reaches a hand out authoritatively, as if I'll take it and stroll out of here with her.
I grab the bottom of my shirt with my fists. "You are so insane. Honestly, Mother, listen to yourself! I don't want to come with you. I live here with Harry and I love him. Not Elijah . I care for Elijah, but it was only your influence that made me think I loved him because I felt like I should. I am sorry, but I love Harry and he loves me. Oh, trust me, I wouldn't. This is why you'll always be alone. You have no control over me anymore—I am an adult. Just because you couldn't control my father doesn't give you the right to try to control me!" As soon as the words leave my mouth I regret them. I know bringing my father into this is low, too low. Before I can apologize, I feel her hand connect with my cheek. The shock is more painful than the assault.
Harry steps between us and puts his hand on her shoulder. My face stings and I bite my lip to keep from"

I'm crying harder.
"If you don't get the fook out of our apartment, I will call the police," he warns her. The calm tone of his voice sends chills down my spine, and I notice my mother shiver, his tone clearly unnerving her, too.
"You wouldn't."
"You just put your hands on him, right in front of me, and you think I wouldn't call the police on you? If you weren't his mum, I would do much worse than that. Now you have five seconds to get out," he says, and I stare at my mother with wide eyes and bring my hand to my burning skin.