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Harry Styles

"I'm making dinner, are you joining me" he speaks through Harry's bedroom door, forehead resting onto the wooden slab. He doesn't bother adding enthusiasm into his statement, already expecting Harry's answer.

"I'll be busy later" Harry's muffled voice states, he sighs face falling towards the ground, light curly hair falls over his dark blue eyes.

"You never eat dinner with your older brother" he emphasizes the word 'brother'. He could almost feel the way Harry rolls his eyes from the way it becomes silent.

"Another day, Sky" Harry mumbles, typing away at his phone screen. Skylar frowns, a small fire burning in the middle of his heart, hearing his childhood name coming from Harry's mouth brings multiple flashbacks.

"You said that last time" Skylar takes a step back.

"Another day" Harry repeats with disinterest. Skylar sighs, shaking his head he throws the kitchen rag over his shoulder, making his way back to the cooking dinner.

Harry lays back, arms outstretched on either side, his eyes flinch towards the hanging digital clock. Sitting up his feet ruffle the white blankets at the edge of his bed as he stands.

The only sound being the light taps of his steps. Black boots are pulled on and a rough jacket pulled over his shoulders.

He's quick to leave his room, and quick to exit the house, the only noise left behind is his brother calling his name. His hood is pulled over his head, and he is off walking towards anywhere but the forest.

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Louis Tomlinson

The sheets are warm under his small profile, anxious shocks are running through his body, attempting to figure out how to turn back the color of his hair and eyes.

Both being a dry color rather then the light things they are. Dull aches are felt from beneath his skin an unfamiliar distance from him and his magic. Anger fueling his insides with burning fire. His confusion and irritation grows by each passing second, why can't he turn back? Where is his magic? And why is he feeling so hopeless.

He caves into himself, the white cloth of his shirt pulling against his back, and arms.

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50 Billion Rainbows || Larry StylinsonWhere stories live. Discover now