just because he's different :: l.s.

Chapter 14 (part two) *last chapter*

HARRY'S POV

My eyes groggily open, the only scent filling the room being mine, no sign of Louis' strawberry aroma tingling my nose. The soft and pale sun seeps into my window, lighting up the room with its dimness. I sit up, wiping at my eyes as I pat the empty space beside the bed I am currently lying in. The bed seems all too familiar, yet unrecognizable to my brain.

Did I fall asleep in the comfort of my home?

No...

I had lunch with Louis' mother and him, then we ran off into his room and fell asleep. So why am I sitting up in my bed? Maybe my mum picked me up and I just don't remember. But I also don't remember a scolding from her either about how I should not be spending my time with gay boys, especially in their beds.

Whatever.

I sigh, sliding out from under my duvet, checking the time on the clock beside my bed. 6:50. Shit. I really need to get to school. And beat the fuck out of Zayn.

I grip onto my phone that sits on my dresser and look through my contacts, scrolling to the 'L's for Louis, but no sign of him, nor his contact picture I had taken last week. I thin my eyebrows as my stomach clenches in a worrisome way. Has Louis just fell off the face of the Earth so all race of human kind will have no recognition of his existence? Or has he played some hilarious prank on me to see how much I really love him?

I hope it's the second one.

I exhale through my nose in a huffed way and get dressed, before going down stairs. I see a head of brown straight hair sitting at the island in the middle of the kitchen, in which I recognize as Gemma, her slim hands gripping onto a spoon as she hovers over her bowl of cereal, her posture unbelievably poor.

I bite my lip, run my fingers through my knotted hair that seems to be getting way too long for anybody's liking, and find a seat next to her.

Her head turns, her hair wiping from her paling cheeks, and of all things, she smiles at me, her bleachy teeth blinding to my awakening eyes. "Hey, Hazz." she says in an unfamiliar cheery voice.

I narrow my eyebrows, cocking my head to the right, leaning an elbow on the countertop as the palm of my hand holds my face from falling. "Hey...Gemma." I begin slowly, before commencing another sentence. "Listen, I know you're upset with me," I continue as I watch her face become confused. She opens her mouth, as to say something, but I quickly interrupt. "But I just-I want to know what happened last night. Did mum pick me up?"

Gemma snorts, pushing a single eyebrow upon her forehead, creasing the left side of it. "Are you okay, Harry?" she says, jokingly feeling my forehead with the back of her hand.

"Yeah, I'm fine." I flinch. "I just-all I remember is being at Louis' and..." I sigh, watching as the aspect of her face only form into a bigger jumble of puzzlement.

"Who's Louis?" she chuckles. "You're sure you're fine...?"

I exhale dramatically, smiling. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just joking around with my sister." I lie, playfully punching her shoulder, in which she returns with a punch.

"O-okay." she laughs, returning to her bowl of cereal.

After that, I drove to school, feeling especially lonely without a hand to hold or a face to look at, during red lights. Once I made it to the hell hole, I walked inside, everyone's eyes on me, giving me weird smiles and grins as I walked down the hall. A couple of people that I didn't even recognize waved at me with their fingers, saying my name in an eldritch tone that kind of creeped me out. It kind of pondered on my mind as to why everyone was being so nice, considering 1) I'm gay and proudly kissed Louis, the most infamous boy in school, in front of all of my friends and 2) I punched Zayn many times, the popular best friend of mine. I had expected glares and sly remarks of some kind from somebody.

I shake off the feeling and notice a head of black quaffed hair across the hall. Zayn doesn't notice me until I scream a "Hey!" to him, in Which causes his body to completely turn around as he faces me.

Then. He fucking smiles. Of all things. He smiles. Then he brings his hand up and waves at me in the most friendliest way. My breathing fastens as he makes his way to me, his face gleaming with a thick layer of happiness that just doesn't seem exact. I have never, in all my years of knowing Zayn, seen a smile so big plastered on his face.

He walks up to me and smirks. "Hey, Harry." he says joyously.

I scoff, his mouth frowning a bit "Don't 'Hey, Harry' me." I sneer.

He looks confused as he cautiously touches my shoulder, in which flinches harshly upon his gentle movements. "W-what's wrong? Did I, like, do something to make you mad?"

I laugh, sarcasm coating my tone as I shake my head. "How about what you did to Louis Friday night, you bastard."

He dribbles his head a bit, thinning his eyebrows and knitting them together. "What? Louis Tomlinson?"

"Yeah Louis Tomlinson."

"You mean the kid that lives down the block? What would I do to him? He doesn't even-he doesn't even attend our school. He goes to the one down the street." he says, wilting the right side of his lip.

I open my mouth, but nothing but a pathetic wheeze comes tumbling out as I narrow my thin eyebrows into a straight line, my forest eyes looking over Zayn's face.

He waves his hand over my eyes, snapping his fingers. "You okay, Harry? You look a little ill. And you're acting weird."

My head and vision blur, all thoughts becoming fuzzy clouds of oblivion as memories of Louis and I flash through my mind in a quick heap. "I-I don't know if I'm okay. Sorry......I have to go." I say, slowly backing away from him and running out the front door.

It may sound odd or off, but I know I need to see Louis, I need to go to his school. Obviously something weird is happening right now.

Were all those times, all those days I spent with my beloved just a dream, a figment of my dramatic imagination, or is this a dream? The time that is currently happening as I speak to you now?

My mind is running in a million directions, tugging me every which way in a way that I cannot imagine, or explain in a sentence that would make the least bit of sense, and before I know it, I've made it to the front of an unfamiliar school.

I run inside, finding everyone in the hall staring at me, cocking eyebrows and giving me weird faces. I run up to two boys, one with blonde tipped hair and another brunette, both quaffed a bit to the side and I ask them, "Do you know a Louis Tomlinson?"

The blonde boy smiles and nods. "Yeah, yeah. I know him." he begins, his voice trickled with a thick Irish lilt. "Yeah, he's just over there." he says, pointing behind me.

I turn around and capture the beautiful image of my Louis, the image so familiar and breathtaking yet so odd to see. I turn back around to the Irishman and nod. "Thank you so much."

He said something as I ran from him, but I didn't catch it. My feet felt as if they were sinking into the carpet below me as they ran to Louis' position, his mussy hair tangled in a gorgeous mess of flowers, a pastel yellow sweater with auburn leaves sewn into it draping over his skeletal figure, a pair of blue denim skinnies barely squeezing at his tiny legs, hanging from his hipbones in a loose way.

His back is facing me, but I know it's him, I just know it. And as I approach him, my heart racing at an accelerated speed, I cautiously tap on his left shoulder, watching as he turns around, the beautiful face before me, just like the one in my, I'm guessing, dream.

I bite my lip, trying to hide the tears menacing to spill everywhere as I say, "Louis Tomlinson?" and he nods, his crisp blues gawping at me in aw. "This may sound crazy. But I'm in love with you."

A short breath leaves his gaping mouth as he breathes out, "Harry?" and that's when my stomach drops, though I nod, my eyebrows thinning. "Just like in my dreams." he utters.

And then his mouth formed with mine, the books he was previously gripping onto falling to the floor as his hands gather up to my cheeks, my hands clasping onto his hips.

The kiss was the same. They were his lips, it was his body, it was his voice, it was him.

And I knew, although it felt like I'd known him, that this was the start of us.