Harry was a usually happy person. He loved everyone and everyone loved him. After all, what was not there to love about the bright lad? He was well mannered, good looking, intelligent, compassionate; the list could go on an on.
He loved his parents, even though they lived in another town. He called them every day, to ask about their lives. He always greeted his neighbors and gathered flowers from his garden to give them to a little girl whom he saw everyday, at the park. He smiled at everyone who walked past him. Some returned the favor, some did not bother. He greeted everyone at work, did his part of the job and left, but not without saying goodnight to everyone. While coming back, he would sit under the tree, looking at the stars. Sometimes his stayed for an hour. Then, with a smile on his face, his would walk home, freshen up, eat and sleep.
Everyday was the exact same thing, except on special occasions, like Christmas, New Years' Eve, Thanksgiving, etc., when he liked staying at home, doing absolutely nothing. If you consider running around, decorating the rooms and making delectable dishes and desserts and dressing up nicely as nothing, that is.
If you asked anyone in the town who Harry Styles was, they would either laugh or roll their eyes, but have the same answer;
"Oh, Harry! He's a great lad. Always smiles at everyone, I tell ya! Very polite. He has a heart of gold, yeah. A good looking one, has all the girls swooning at his presence!"
But that's what the people were allowed to see. Smiling, cheerful Harry.
Polite and calm Harry.
A perfect Harry. No flaws seen or allowed.
They couldn't see the other side of him. They didn't know that every night, he cried himself to sleep. They didn't know that his brightest smiles hid painful tears. They didn't know that every time he called his parents, he heard the familiar lady's voice tell him that the number he called didn't exist. They didn't know that his neighbors hated him so much just because he was Harry, and they wanted him gone. They didn't know that everyday was a day he wanted to die.
They knew him, yet did not know him at all.
And wouldn't let them know. For who wanted sad, depressing Harry?
Rude and messed up Harry?
Broken Harry? Scarred for life? Nobody.
At the moment, Harry was curled up on his bed, window wide open, cold air rushing in. Silent tears streamed down his red cheeks. Sometimes he did not sleep at nights. Those nights were the worst.
Until Justin happened.
He met Justin under the tree. Harry found him quite dark and intimidating. And no, it wasn't the tattoo sleeves or the ear and nose piercings. It was the way he walked, talked, or did anything. His entire self screamed stay away from me. I am dark and dangerous.
But did Harry bother to listen? Of course he didn't.
And that was one of the best decisions he'd ever made.
Pretty soon, he was seeing him everyday, and awkward conversations blossomed into casual talks between friends. And Harry had never been so genuinely happy to have a true friend, despite them being polar opposites and the warnings he received from others to stay away from Justin, only because he had black and white tattoos all over his body and liked to light up joints sometimes. Harry, not being the judgmental prick, saw through the bad boy facade, and he truly liked- no, loved what he saw.
He saw a lonely and confused boy, wanting nothing more than nice company. Harry tried his level best to provide that. Together, they watched the stars, degraded Lyra, a girl who had slept on more beds than anyone would ever, cursed life, and hated the screwed up world.
