Can't Get Enough - L.S.

1/5

'You don't wanna hurt me, but see how deep that bullet lies. Unaware that I'm tearing you asunder, there's a thunder in our hearts, baby.'

~

Depending on how you look at it, strangers really are just friends we don't know yet.

Just think about it – when you first laid eyes on your current friends, did you instantly know their names and their favorite colors, what they had in common with you? The answer should be no, unless you're a psychic, which Harry didn't really believe in anyway. 

With this in mind, Harry found it odd that people always had their judgment ready about strangers and avoided them like the plague when strangers could mean so much to you, and then was overwhelmed by the profound hypocrisy behind that statement. Although he truly felt this way, he tended to try and distance himself from others as much as possible too. What was the cause of that? Harry was uncertain. He wasn't a philosophical person yet he knew that it was because of what society had implanted in his head. Like all those hipster Facebook users said – society's a bitch and life fucks you up the ass whenever it can.

Or perhaps they're less crude when posting this on their Facebook wall, whatever. Harry wasn't sure. He only used the computer when he did his homework or was in need for some porn when his fantasies didn't suffice.

Normalcy is determined by the masses yet Harry wondered – who was it to decide that strangers are always dangerous? Was it fear that made people instinctively hate everything they couldn't instantly grasp with their peanut sized brains in an odd way of self-defense? The questions were dizzying and entirely confusing and something a teenage boy shouldn't be thinking of on a perfectly fine Tuesday afternoon.

Harry did know one thing for sure.

The tiny boy being pushed around by fellow members of Harry's football team didn't deserve it, even if he was a stranger to Harry.

"Hey! Knock it off!" Harry yelled. The tiny boy looked around in shock, his body frigid, his books falling to the ground in a way that made Harry wince. His fellow team members had always been assholes, but it wasn't until now that Harry realized they were cruel too.

And just because this boy was another nameless stranger. A stranger who was someone's son, maybe someone's brother, someone's friend or boyfriend. The unfairness of the situation struck Harry in the wrong way. Just because no one around had ties with this boy, it didn't make his emotions of any less value. He was still a person.

Harry shoved Zayn off the boy and sneered at him, standing defensively in front of the stranger. "You asshole! What did he ever do to you?!" Harry demanded.

"He's a fucking freak, Harry, always walking around like he's hot shit when he's just a handicapped retard!" Zayn exclaimed. Harry's eyes widened and he turned his head to look at the boy. The boy was staring intently at his face but he wasn't saying a thing, and Harry could see the little hearing aids in his ears. The reason why Harry hadn't seen this boy before was suddenly so obvious that Harry felt flustered for not having come up with it. As class president, Harry knew pretty much everyone who attended his school. This boy most likely attended the other high school down the street, the one for all hearing impaired children.

He kept staring into the boy's discomforted blue eyes and it pulled at Harry's heartstrings. He looked angry, his fists shaking by his sides and his books sprawled across the ground. No one deserved to feel like that.

Harry turned back to Zayn again. "You leave him the hell alone, Malik. Don't think I don't know about you and Kaitlyn. What would your girlfriend think about that?"

Zayn's eyes widened and Liam and Niall, his goons, looked at him with confused expressions on their dumb faces. Zayn sneered. "Whatever. Have fun with your boyfriend, Styles."

Zayn shoved him in the shoulder and Harry stumbled backwards, right into the deaf boy's chest. He didn't look at the boy, though. He just kept glaring at Zayn's retreating form and Harry had never felt like quitting the football team so badly before. It wasn't like he needed the extra credit anyway.

He realized a small crowd had gathered around himself and the boy behind him and he flushed, angrily dropping to his knees and gathering the books in his arms.

Idiots.

Why did people always stare without doing a damn thing? Sometimes Harry wondered if they would've been okay with watching a public murder too, and then realized that humanity was savage and destructive. It was entirely unfair people like this boy had to suffer because of it.

There was a leatherbound notebook lying on the ground too, and it had opened on its first page. Property of Louis William Tomlinson, it read, and Harry's fingers lingered on it for a moment. It looked very expensive and he didn't even know people still made notebooks like this.

Louis. The deaf boy was named Louis William Tomlinson.

Harry smiled when Louis bent down and took his books from Harry's hands, a strange expression in his eyes. He looked confused and hurt, angry. Harry didn't blame him.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled before he realized Louis couldn't hear him. Louis' eyes were staring at his lips, though, and Harry kept blushing because of that. Much to his surprise Louis replied in a thick voice, the words a bit uncertain and hesitant.

"It's not your fault," Louis replied. He wrapped his arms around his books and stood up again – Harry followed.

"You... understand me? I thought you were deaf." Harry winced, hoping he hadn't insulted the boy. Louis shrugged.

"I am, but I have learned to read lips and my parents got me speech therapy when I was young. I can understand what you say if you don't speak fast. I'm sorry that boy called you my boyfriend, I didn't know he knew I'm gay and I hope it didn't cause you any trouble." Louis was saying all these polite things but it seemed to come out strained, like he was forcing himself to be calm. His hands were shaking around his books and his frown didn't seem to go away either.

There was a certain undertone to Louis' words that made it apparent there was something physically wrong with him, but it wasn't as obvious as Harry had expected. He could understand Louis just fine even if he paused a bit too long between every word.

Harry couldn't explain why he was so intrigued by this boy. Instead, he simply held out his hand.

"I'm Harry," he said. Louis narrowed his eyes, a frown on his lips like he didn't understand.

"Larry?" he asked in an uncertain tone. Harry smiled and mimicked an H, not at all offended. He was actually shocked by his own patience.

"Harry," Harry repeated. Louis took Harry's hand and Harry blinked – he had small hands. Harry's hand swallowed up Louis' completely and his fingers were warm and soft. Harry could imagine Louis signing with those tiny hands of his and then was surprised by the feeling of disappointment for not knowing sign language too.

"Harry," Louis parroted then, stressing the H. Harry nodded. "My name is Louis."

"Nice to meet you, Louis," Harry murmured. Louis smiled.

"Nice to meet you too, Harry."

Things changed drastically for the both of them after this day.