OCD ➳ Larry Stylinson

Chapter Ten: Change

Harry's POV

.

.

Trudging into the library, I smiled at the sight in front of me. Louis had his head on the table and was snoring quietly. I sat down in my usual chair and pulled out a pencil. Carefully, I reached over and poked his nose with the end of it, smirking a bit. Louis suddenly shot up, making sleepy noises. His hair looked like a tossed salad. It was sticking up in the strangest places. His eyes were swollen from loss of sleep and his nose red.

"It's your fault," I said grinning. "You were the one who wanted to meet up at 12 am."

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah well... you were the one who... you..." I laughed loudly at his loss of words. He normally had the sassiest comebacks. He just glared back.

"How are you still awake?" he asked, rubbing his hands over his face, messing up his hair even further.

I smirked. "Coffee, and a lot of it." I responded cheekily.

*

Louis' POV

The hallway was crowded with sweaty teens. People pushed each other and girls gossiped by their lockers. Harry had to stay behind in the library because he really can't be in the hallways. There's too many people pushing and shoving. He can't even be touched. Normally, I would stay behind until the halls cleared and walk with him, but my teachers began emailing my parents about how I was late to class nearly every day, which didn't end well. It made me feel bad, leaving Harry, but getting in trouble by my father was much worse.

Shoving through a crowd of students, I made my way to my locker. I was reaching out to the lock when I felt a sudden force push my chest against the locker and my face pressed to the cold metal.

"Hey, mate." I heard a low voice whisper in my ear, spitting out the last word.

I was turned abruptly to face whoever was pinning me. I instantly recognized him. Zayn Malik smirked at me, his hands pinning me against the locker.

"So, I've heard from a few little birdies that you're still hanging out with that fag, Harry," he flashed an evil grin, sending shivers down my spine.

"Don't talk about him like that." I spat in his face, causing him to tighten his grip.

"Oh, looks like you're his little fag boyfriend, huh?" his smirk stayed place.

"No." my response came out in more of a whisper, but it was immediate.

He laughed darkly and ran an olive colored hand through his greasy black hair. I couldn't help but notice a small crowd that was forming around us, along with a few of Zayn's "bodyguards" as everyone called them. They were the normal Jocks. Clad in varsity jackets and mischievous grins. I recognized Paul to Zayn's left, and Liam to his right.

"Listen, nerd, if you want to have a reputation at this school, you'll need to understand a few things. One, dress like that and you'll end up in the dumpsters," he looked down at my white shirt, bright blue pants and red braces to match. "And two, don't talk to Harry Styles. He's a freak." Zayn's words made me grimace.

Harry is not a freak.

Harry is my best friend.

"You're already on a thin line, I suggest you change things up a bit if you want to survive." he finished.

Zayn let go of me, and swiftly walked away, Paul and Liam following. As Liam walked away, I couldn't help but notice his expression. He looked sad.