Tempest || l.s. ✓

Chapter 17

"Um, excuse me." Harry spoke quietly and politely as he tried to step around an old man to get into the Beachwood Café.

The man just grunted, turning to look Harry up and down.

"Sorry, I just need to um-"

"Ah, so you're obviously the faggot." His voice was roughly, looking Harry up and down with a smirk that was half disgusted and half amused.

"What?" Harry frowned.

"You're the new faggot on the island." He repeated.

"I'd just like to get in there please." He mumbled, eyes flitting to the ground. Quickly he tried to get around the man- who he assumed was Mr French- but got shoved back.

He stumbled a bit, feeling the anxiety begin to rise up in his stomach.

"Nobody wants people like you on the island." He growled.

"I think it's the opposite." Harry said, trying to make sure he didn't appear too scared.

"What did you say? You're disgusting, and what the fuck are you wearing?"

"Clothes."

"You're just asking to be beaten up. Stop trying to act tough, you're just a pathetic freak."

"I haven't asked for anyone to beat me up, and my clothes can't speak for me. I dress like this because I feel comfortable in these clothes. At least I don't wear the same jumper every single day."

"You don't have the right to talk to me like that. You have to respect your elders." He moved a cigarette up to his mouth, obviously smirking.

"No I don't. Not when they treat me like shit because I'm different to them."

Mr French looked around before gripping Harry's wrist tightly. Harry yelped, trying to yank it back.

"Get off of me." Harry whimpered.

"Does anybody care about you, fag? Parents? Siblings? Friends?"

"Get off of me." Harry repeated, gritting his teeth as he struggled to get away.

His wrist was suddenly free and Harry looked around, noticing people had stopped to stare.

"Just let me into the café, that's all I want."

"Nobody cares about you. Your parents hate you-"

"You're a twat. You don't know me and you have no right to make assumptions about me or my family."

"I'm right though, aren't I?" He tossed the cigarette to the ground, stomping on it, "nobody likes people like you."

Harry couldn't stop it any longer and his eyes filled with tears. He walked back, turning quickly and pushing through the small crowd that had now gathered.

As he stumbled away he heard people's voices begin to raise, and over them all he heard Barbara yelling at Mr French.

But he couldn't stop, he was on the verge of having a full blown panic attack and he'd rather have that away from everyone.

He couldn't really see, nor could he breathe, but he kept going until he got to the quiet cliff, collapsing into a heap dropping his head down.

He dug his palms into his eyes, trying desperately to breathe. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Not even 5 minutes later he felt arms wrap around him, and he tensed up. Everything was too much, his eyes were blurry, his hearing was muffled and he still felt as if he was choking on air.