Baby Blue [Larry Stylinson]

two

2010

It was the seventeenth summer of Harry's life, him being sixteen years old, and he was to spend it with his uncle in Doncaster.  Harry's never been to Doncaster before.  Actually he's never really been out of Cheshire for that matter.  He's not the adventurous type.  Laying in bed reading a good book, or watching a movie with his mum is how he usually liked to spend his weekends.  Not sneaking out and partying like every other kid in his town seemed to be doing.  Don't get him wrong, taking a risk can be fun.  But only sometimes.  And it heavily depends on who he's with.  

And it's not like the boy doesn't live life, he does.  He just lives the life he wants to live.  Not the life his friends want to live.  And they understand that, luckily, and have stopped trying to push him to join them later, or I guess early, on Saturday nights.  

But apparently his mum also thinks her son lives a boring life, because she's shipping him off to go live with her brother for the summer, in hopes of him 'making memories' and shit.  But he didn't complain, or fight it, because Harry does what his mum wants him to do.  She's gone through so much, she doesn't need him to be a stuck up and stubborn boy, once again, like the other kids around their town. He seems to be the only child who has respect for his parents around this place, and she never lets him forget that.  She's such an angel.  She kisses him goodnight every night and tells him how grateful she is for having an angel like him, and he always tells her, 'Only an angel can make an angel.'  And she always smiles.

School let out about a week ago and Harry's set to leave for Doncaster tomorrow.  He's got everything packed so all that's left for him to do is shower and go to bed.  Unfortunately, he can't tell if he's excited or annoyed by this whole arrangement.  But he forces himself to be excited.  Who knows what'll happen?

He easily slips into a night's sleep, curled up on the left side of his queen bed, leaving the entire other half completely empty.  Harry always curls up when he sleeps.  He feels more protected and safe when he hugs himself to sleep, like nothing can touch him and that he's guarded by the comforter laying over him all the way up past his ears.  So in the position he always lies in, he slips immediately into a deep dark one, knowing that the next time he curls up in this position, he'll be in somewhere completely new.  He still can't tell if that's scary or exciting.  We'll just say exciting.

- 🌣 -

The young boy wakes up to a stream of sun shining into his small room.  He turns to the alarm clock on his night side table to see how actually early it was.  7:47 in the morning.  Jeez, that's early, he thinks to himself as he rubs his tired eyes.

He rolls out of bed in just his boxers, and wanders into his connected bathroom.  When he finishes brushing his teeth, he finds himself leaning over the counter top, propping himself up with his arms, and staring at his reflection in the mirror.  Messy hair, from being slept on while it was damp, bags under his eyes that only made his dark circles shine brighter, and chapped lips from being bitten often.  He had never noticed it until he started to taste that cold taste of iron in his mouth, that he bit his lips quite frequently.  When the boy was excited, scared, or nervous, he'd bite down on his bottom lip from mere habit.  A habit he's supposed to break, his mum tells him.  

He huffs out a breath of disgust at his morning appearance, and wanders back into his room, pulling on a pair of grey joggers, and a white crewneck sweatshirt.  He figures he wants to be comfortable for the short but probably miserable ride to Doncaster.  He wasn't seventeen yet so he didn't have his own license.  He had a permit, but that wasn't going to allow him to drive himself to Doncaster, so his mum had to drive him there and drop him off.

Once Harry was dressed and his curly hair was brushed up and over his head, he grabbed his phone and walked down the stairs to find his mum cooking something.