A Bit Cliché

Prologue; Everyone's in Their Place

Harry's eyes averted down the hallway, staring into space. He had to go that way. He had to walk past them. With a slow sigh, he pushed through the glass double doors, making his way past the banter going on. 

"I don't know why anyone is even friends with that right twat," A cold voice Harry knew all to well sneered. 

The junior just pushed past the crowd of jocks and slid into the locker room to change for gym. He let out a slow breath as he put his back to the wall, sliding down. This was an everyday routine. Walking past the boys that hated him and had no good reason, almost breaking down in the locker room, getting tortured on the field because he had no coordination when it came to football. 

"This shit is getting real old." He said to himself.

"What shit?" He heard that same cold voice from the hall, watching as it's owner slid down the wall beside him. 

"You pretending you hate me on a daily basis just too look good for people that don't matter, Louis." The younger boy replied, his curls bouncing while turned his head towards the older boy. "I just, I know being gay isn't acceptable and all, but Louis.." He said, touching his best friend's hand. "It doesn't mean you have to torture me."

Just then voices came from the other side and a boy said, "Louis, did you finish him?" A head peeked around the corner, smirking. Zayn Malik. 

Harry hated all of them. Especially Zayn. 

"Get off of me, fag." Louis said in an annoyed voice, but his eyes were apologetic. "Yeah, I did," He told Zayn. "See you on the field, twat." He said, leaving the locker room with Hary there to register what had just happened alone. 

"If anyone's a twat, it's that Bradford idiot," He swore under his breath, getting up and heading out to the field.

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A/N: It's short because it's a prolouge.