Good Morals [Larry Stylinson]

Ch. Eight | Anger is a Wild Thing

[E:✔ ]

Monday was dreaded, of course. Why wouldn't it be? Maybe not for the same reason as his peers, because Harry dreaded today because he was going to see Mr. Tomlinson. Overnight, in the midst of everything else going through his head, he planned on skipping. Maybe even for a few days. But, no. His mum was home today. Maybe he'll skip tomorrow. Even driving to school was dangerous because of the things going through Harry's head. And all through first block.
In Flower Child, where Louis saw him in that blouse. The semi-translucent one, with the silver dots and frilly collar and sleeves. His teacher. And it made it worse when Niall called Mr. Tomlinson over. Obviously Harry didn't expect him to be there, let alone be in the same store at the same time. Coincidental.
It made it even worse when he had moved on from the incident for an hour and a half before ramming right into him. No, he wasn't watching where he was going. Yes, he was stupid for that. When the man had shouted at him with so much anger and hatred and frustration he couldn't help but let that ruin his day. The moment his eyes met the other's, Harry could see that he was livid. Even when his face softened and filled with a look of regret and fear, even when he apologized, Harry's brain shut it all out. He made him this angry. Mr. Tomlinson was never a super aggressive person. Yeah, he's told Harry off before, but nothing like that. Harry had to have really messed up. He was stupid. He was just a dumb fucking kid, a stupid boy who needs to stop dressing in 'feminine' clothes (although he doesn't believe that any clothes were limited to a single gender). He was scared.
It hurt more and more with every breath Harry took, knowing his typically kind teacher got so upset. Harry was rude, and after the older man walked away and Liam, Zayn and Niall rushed over to Harry, Harry laughed it off. They asked if he was alright and he just nodded.

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The lunch bell ringing snaps Harry out of his thoughts. He walked into the lunch room later than usual and found his friends sitting at their usual table. He bit his lip and sat down, crossing his arms on the table and resting his head on them. Niall clears his throat, "Hazza, please talk to us. We know you're not alright, so don't say that. Clearly something's up, mate, you've never looked this bad since-" 

"Stop, Ni. I'm aware I'm not okay. I dunno, mum has been super busy. I know it's important to fill in when it's needed, but," he sighs, closing his eyes. "It gets lonely. I wish I could stay awake rather than sleep, since she always comes home later at night," he opens his eyes again and bites his lip. "Haz, you know she loves you," Zayn leans closer to his mopey friend, wrapping his arm around him in a comforting side hug. Harry leans into it and rests his head on Zayn's shoulder, sighing heavily, "Of course I know that," he sits up straight again, "But you know what I mean, right? Mum and I haven't had any time to sit and talk, play cards, do anything together and it kind of hurts," he shrugs. "Well you know we're all here for you, mate. We all love you," Zayn ruffles Harry's curls, making them all smile. They continue on talking. Zayn brings up some girl in his maths class. Niall laughed and shoved Liam, Liam giggling and shoving Niall back, "Shut up, she's nice too," Zayn beams. "Oh, you've talked to her? Wow," Harry teased. Zayn blushed, "Well, no," he coughs, "But! But she is, she's nice," he smiles. The other three friends roll their eyes, Harry humming. Liam turns to look at Harry, "I'm glad you're feeling better, Harry. Wish I could help with your mum," he pouts. Harry nods, "'S alright," he smiles.

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The lunch bell had rung, signaling lunch to be over. Harry excused himself from his friends, having to use the restroom. After he was done taking care of things and went back into the hallway to his drama class. Suddenly the warning bell rung, meaning class was starting. He saw the classroom door close, but open again shortly. Harry shook his head, scoffing and shoving his hands in his pockets, looking down. Of course Mr. Tomlinson had to step out. Of course he was going to yell at Harry again for being late. Harry just slowed his steps until stopping in front of the man who stood right in front of the lockers, "Can I help you, sir?"