OCD ➳ Larry Stylinson

Chapter Three: This Is What I Deserve

Warning: Selfharm. May be triggering... sorry.

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[Harry's POV]

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I didn't see Louis again that day, and everything went as it normally did. I drove home. I did homework. I went to bed. It's the same routine as always.

But, that night, I dreamt of Him. I dreamt of Louis.

He was just sitting there, reading to himself. No... he was reading to me. His glasses sat nicely on the bridge of his cute little nose. No one was around. It was just me and him. He was reading a poem. Something old, maybe Shakespeare. His soft, higher voice rang around the small room, his T's and S's flowing in the sentence like magic. I sighed deeply as he read on, enjoying the moment. He was mid-sentence when I heard and annoying loud beep. I looked around, searching for the mysterious sound, but couldn't find it. It beeped again, and again, and again. What was this sound? Where was it coming from?

I awoke with a start, shutting off the annoying alarm. I let a deep groan escape my lips and crawled out of my warm sheets. That dream... why did I have that dream?

Fag

Kill yourself

I shook my head. Sunshine was bursting all around my room, forcing me to squint my sleep filled eyes. I put on the clothes I had previously laid out the night before. It was just a simple white tank top with dark jeans. It wasn't too colorful but wasn't too bland. I matched a pair of white converse with the outfit, tying my laces perfectly, but messing up and having to retie them again... a few times.

Going along with my normal routine, I ate breakfast. My mother wasn't up yet.

Good.

I rushed out the door when I was ready, prerared for another day in hell.

*

Inhaling a deep breathe, I walked into my geometry class. I sat in the back as I always did, but noticed that Louis wasn't there. Did he decide I was too weird and switch classes? He must have. My heart sank as I stared at the empty desk bedside me. Pulling out my notebook, I turned to the page the teacher assigned and began to work, still sad about Louis not being here.

The door to the class room suddenly opened with a loud creak, getting the attention of everyone there. I looked up from my work, and felt a smile grow on my face. Louis was standing there awkwardly, his bag across his shoulder.

"Hello Mr. Tomlinson, so nice of you to join us," the teacher, Mr. Banks, said in an annoyed tone.

Louis shuffled on his feet.

"My alarm didn't go off," he murmured, staring at the ground. A blush was creeping onto his cheeks.

"Well, it seems you'll have to sit next to Styles again," Mr. Banks grunted.

Louis nodded and head to the back, next to me. I heard Zayn mutter "Sucks for you" as Louis passed by him.

Louis had to sit here, as in, he didn't have a choice. And yesterday he didn't know that an awkward, stuttering boy would happen to sit next to him. He didn't want to sit there. Why would he?

But, when he sat down, he smiled... again. He muttered a "Hi" to me, and went on with his work.

Maybe he did want to sit there. Maybe he did like me... just maybe.

*

Later that day, I was in the library, and Louis sat down across from me. I looked at him and he just smiled. Why did he do this again? We sat there quietly for the most part, reading our books, until the bell rang and we went the same rout as yesterday. I pushed in my chair multiple times, muttering the number each time, before we left. Louis didn't say anything, he just watched.