Orphans | Larry

35

The sun shone brightly through the car windows, illuminating the inside like a furnace. The atmosphere within was calm, and normal, not a sign of awkwardness in sight despite the previous nights events.

We had spoken in depth about what had happened, I feared that Harry would have regrets; perhaps realised he had been wrong about his feelings towards me. He however put my fears aside, admitting that it was the greatest experience he'd had.

I on the other hand had been unable to stop smiling. It were as if I was living inside one constant dream. Everything was slower, brighter, happier. It was perfect.

I wanted nothing more than to stay concealed in this bubble of our own little reality, but we both knew that it could not be like that for long. We both had real lives to get back to, real people to see, real jobs to attend to. And yet somehow the way his eyes brightened in certain lights, the way his smile widened after a particularly bad joke was by far the most real thing I had ever had the pleasure of experiencing.

We approached my apartment before we knew it, the sudden face of authenticity appearing as we stepped out from the confines of the vehicle. The walk up the stairs was made hand in hand, our smiles only being wiped clean off of our faces at the sight in front of us.

Outside my door, sat Zayn, Niall... and Stan. I felt my blood run cold as I observed their confused glances, a hint of betrayal hidden beneath their exterior.

Harry dropped my hand then, as if my skin had sent a voltage through to his. I masked the hurt that the action had caused me by bringing that same hand up to my head and ruffling my hair.

"So," Zayn began, "anything you need to tell us, boys?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." I replied.

"Perhaps something to do with why you were holding hands... with another boy?" He said.

"I said I don't know what you're talking about."

Niall kept neutral throughout this. I could tell that the interrogation was making him feel uneasy. He was a good kid, not a confrontational bone in his body, and that especially radiated through him today.

"I told them." Stan smirked.

"You told him?" Harry finally spoke, his eyes watery.

"You don't know anything, Stan." I said, my attempts to keep the facade beginning to wear thin.

He let out a laugh, his eyes dark, his expression angry yet menacing, "Are you sure about that?" And with that he pulled my journal from behind his back.

I felt my heart drop to my knees, "W-where did you get that?"

"Be careful who you trust, I guess." He smirked.

Zayn features, having observed my expression, began to soften, "He showed us Louis, he showed us everything."

My own eyes began to water. I had never felt so deceived in my life. They all knew my thoughts, my feelings. I felt robbed of anything that may have once been private. I was an open book now, my secrets left for auction, and nothing scared me more.

"H-how could you?" My voice broke, my eyes connecting with Stan.

"They deserved to know what a faggot you are." He let out a laugh, and yet it was cut short with Zayn standing up from his seated position, his fist colliding against the boys jaw.

"It doesn't matter if he is or he isn't, but you never, and I mean never use that word again," the raven haired boy said, "understand?"

I felt a fraction of my heart swell with pride at the action, and yet the room had gone stiff with tension.