Detention ➳ Larry

Chapter nine

(Harry's POV)

"Because Harry . . . I'm-" Louis begins, and I can feel my heart beating out of my chest. His voice stops suddenly, and I hear a loud bang, like he dropped the phone. 

"Louis? You there?"

He doesn't reply, and the other line starts beeping. I pull the phone away from my ear, and stare at the screen curiously. He must've hung up on me, I guess. Seriously Lou? He really needs to stop hanging up on me. It's starting to piss me off.

I sigh and toss my phone at the wall, frustrated with myself. 

Every time we're in detention we have an amazing time together, and he's a great lad to have a conversation with. It's like I can be my real self around him. I can be one hundred percent Harry, and not the guy the school sees me as. What bothers me the most about Louis is that he broke me again. I was almost cured from my issue, but then he had to come into my life and make myself question everything.

Why does he have to be so God damn perfect? 

Pain is spread though my hand as my fist punches into the wall.  I stare at the indent I made in the wall with my eyes wide. The white paint is chipped and it's dented.  Shit. Well, it's official.  My Dad is going to kill me.

I stare down at my fist and start cursing to myself. I flip over my hand and stare at the knuckles, which have turned bright red. I try bending my hand but soon find out that that was a big mistake. I let out a loud yell of pain, and have to bite my lip to stop myself from screaming.

A maid, who's name I can't remember at the moment, opens up the door and stares at me. I watch her as her blue eyes are drawn to my hand, and she covers her pale hand over her mouth. Her hair is wavy and brown, and her face is spotted with freckles. She looks like she's about twenty or so.

"Mister Styles, what did you do to your hand? I heard a loud noise," she questions, rushing over to my side.

She reaches down and caresses my hand in hers, "OW! That's hurts!" I shout, yanking my hand away.

The maid looks into my eyes and frowns, "Let me help you. Come here," she says, gesturing for me to follow her.

I sigh and reluctantly follow her into my bathroom. She closes the door and turns on the faucet, pulling out multiple things from the medicine cabinet.

"Sit down. Now," she says, flicking her head towards the toilet.

"Fine."

I put down the toilet seat and sit on top of it, and she walks over to me, then kneels down on her knees to attend to my hand better. "Why did you do that?" she asks, running her fingers delicately around my red knuckles.

"Because I was pissed off," I say shrugging.  She scoffs and aims a spray bottle at my hand.  "Ow!" I shout as she sprays something onto the cuts on my knuckles, "That stings!"

She sends me an apologetic smile, but doesn't let go of my hand. "Sorry. It'll help it get better, okay?" she promises.  I groan, but let her continue. She wraps my hand up in a tan gauze, then pins it shut with a metal clip.

I raise an eyebrow at her, "Is all of this really necessary?" I question.

"Yes. You acted like an idiot, and now you get pay back," she explains with a smirk across her lips.

I frown, "I had a reason to be an idiot."

"And what would that be?" she asks.

"It's complicated."