Take Me To Church

Prologue

Harry honestly can't remember a time he hadn't heard complaints about the boy next door.

It was always "Muuuuuum Louis took my ball!" or, "Daaaad Louis called me stupid!". Harry always ignored the boy, instead sitting on the grass under the oak tree in between the two houses and made flower chains until they were big enough to wear as crowns.

Then his dad would take them from him and give them to my sister. He never spoke up and said they were his. The boy would just watch from a distance and run away when he saw Harry looking, his little legs kicking up dirt and gravel from the road.

He was only six at the time, all the kids in the neighborhood played together and Louis was two years older than most of them. Harry didn't understand why they kept the boy back a year. He was probably the smartest person in the school.

Until he turned to the cigarettes' a few years back. Then he stopped smiling, stopped talking much at all. Harry never really understood this. He only knew to avoid him, so that's what he did, much like everyone else. He prayed for the boy each night, hoping God would help his soul.

Harry still didn't understand why Louis chose to be gay. He didn't get it. God loves all, yet he cursed Louis with the worst possible curse!

The first time he heard of this was when he was fourteen. Harry had been pushed up a year level, apparently he was doing really well. Too well for the others his age. It was okay though because that meant he was in the same grade as his childhood friend, Niall. Harry remembers first day back to school, in early September, as he walked down the block and towards the school he knew so well. Only the kids who lived in the town went here. It was a very strict school.

The green leaves were turning red and the warm summer air was slowly slipping away into a moment in time. August was a haze of studying with his sister for her exams, church, choir, watching sunsets in the meadows behind his house, and his cousins coming over.

Harry despises his cousins. Awful, rude, and spoilt. Last summer was the first time he learnt about swearing. His cousins, Jake and Samuel, would say the most terrible things. But only when adults weren't around. They didn't pray at night and giggled while saying grace. Worst of all they were forced to sleep in Harry's bedroom. Which is fair because Harry didn't want them sleeping next to his sister.

Least to say is Harry was disgusted.

Though, he was quite intrigued by the flashy, bright, colourful magazines Jake owned. One day, during the week they stayed, he picked up the thin book and flicked through, impatience at it's peak.

The first few pages where stories about famous people being seen out or breaking up. Why would Jake care about this? Harry though, flipping through the pages. Then suddenly, his heart stopped beating and he froze. A woman with long blonde hair and hazel eyes stared up at him, skin exposed, her hands just covering her bits. Harry let out a small gasp and shut his eyes, trying his best to flip to the next page without looking. He felt something fall out onto his lap and when he opened his eyes his cheeks dusted pink. This time it was a man with dark hair and starry eyes. Something flipped in Harrys' gut and he didn't even bother folding it back in before throwing the cursed book onto Jake's bed.

Remembering this, Harry felt himself become flustered as he walked through the school gates, instantly scolding himself. A group of kids push past him and he stumbles slightly, tripping up the concrete stairs and into the locker hall. His locker was the same as it had always been, S28. He shoves his bag into the metal box and takes out his religious study books.

Harry was very grateful that religious studies was his first class, he needed some cleansing. He turned around at a sudden voice.

"Hello, Harry!"

He turned, the door of his locker hitting the back of his head. He winces and glances at the straight haired girl next to him, "... hello, Arabella."

Her pearly white grin and next sentence was interrupted by a muscular arm shoving past his.

"Oops." A bored, familiar voice rang in a monotone. Harry turned towards them, and fear spiked in his gut. A boy slightly shorter than him wearing black jeans and a white shirt opened the locker next to his, pushing Arabella out of the way. His soft brown hair is in a side quiff and his striking blue eyes shot to Harrys' as he notices my gaze.

I wish I looked like him.

"Hi." Harry breathed, Arabella's entire existence irrelevant now. The corner of Louis' thin red lips turned upwards into a smirk. He shrugs a leather jacket over his shoulders, sticks a textbook under his arm and slams the locker door shut whilst maintaining eye contact. Harry can feel of his bones turn to jelly by the intensity of Louis' stare. Panic runs through his veins.

"Hi." Louis hand brushes his arm and Harry's head uncontrollably turns to watch him saunter down the hall. That was so wrong.

"Harry! Which class do you have next! Can you answer me please?" Arabella says impatiently. Harry shrugs, his brain swirling violently.

"Sorry I have to go, Arabella, bye." Harry says, in a daze. His mind unconsciously slipping back to the centerfold of that magazine...

No, no, NO! What are you doing? Dad will kill you! God will hate you! You're going to hell!

Harry's mind screams at him as he walks through the door into this religious education class, a cross above the door. Thank God. He really needed this class. He couldn't wait until Sunday. Maybe he'll go after school just to be safe.

When Harry finally looks up, he freezes. Oh no no no no no no. Gritting his teeth he slides into the seat in between his best friend, Niall, and Louis Tomlinson. He catches Louis looking at him out of the corner of his eye, but quickly looking away, continuing to engrave into the desk with a staple.

Niall doesn't even notice Harry sat down, staring straight ahead. Harry follows his gaze to see him staring directly at a girl who's leaning over a desk, talking to her friends. It takes Harry a moment to realize Niall is looking at the girls skirt.

"Niall!" Harry gasps and swats his friends' arm, "What are you doing? That's incredibly inappropriate!"

He hears Louis snort a laugh next to him and Niall turn to Harry so fast he should've gotten whiplash.

"Harry! I didn't know you were here," Niall says, shocked, then in a lower tone, "I'm allowed to mate, I'm going to marry her one day."

Harry is repulsed. What was the world coming too?

"You're being gross. Don't think of such things. You should confess to the Priest after school. I'm going to the church anyway, come with me."

Niall shrugs and sighs, "Harry, we're fourteen, in three years we're expected to start courting. In four we're to wed. Stop acting like a child."

Harry glares at him before the teacher walks in. Silly Niall.

That was two years ago. Harry has since blocked out thoughts of that magazine and Louis from his brain, focusing solely on Arabella. She was his future after all.

He swears she's the only one on his mind.

Because she is.

Right?