Larry Stylinson Oneshots

Think about it and come home

He had the choice between a cold, dark and tiny flat, probably without any light, no heating, ice cold water and mould everywhere in the worst part of London, but not being able to buy food, or the choice to live or having some cheap food he could survive with but not having a place to stay.

Harry was desperate, but he didn't want to die, so he chose the opportunity to always have some food.

He could have found a way out of his situation while he was crashing on some friends sofas, but after a while they had enough of him - yeah great friends the teenagers these days, and he was on the street again, without a solution.

Harry thinks a lot about the time after running away. What should he do anyways? If he doesn't have to work, he has nothing to do. His friends either left him because they went away after graduating or doesn't want to have something to do with him anymore because of him being a failure. And if he has to work, no one is actually there to give him some work. So basically he's hanging around every single day, 365 days a year, from the morning to the evening, thinking about his escape from home.

Sometimes he asks himself what his mum would say if he stands in front of the door of his childhood house again, begging that she will let him in, that he can come back. But as soon as these thoughts come up, he pushes them away. He's too proud to admit his fault and he still has this feeling that one day, he will be able to live his dreams.

It's one of those evenings in the late summer. People are going home from work, ready to see their families or just hanging around in a pub not actually wanting to go home, maybe because of their families. And like almost every evening a young man, not much older than him passes his park bench that was Harry's bed for the past few months. And like almost every day, this young man is giving him a short look and a warm smile. Harry would smile back because this small gesture shows him that he's just not a shadow in this world; that someone notices him, but he hates the pity he sees in the young man's eyes.

This man is Louis Tomlinson, but it's not really pity in his eyes, Harry sees. It's more like a mix of wonder, curiuosity and a hint of worry towards him. For the past few months, he always sees him hanging around in the park or sitting on the bench. At first he didn't ask himself why, because he was probably one of those boys who think they were to cool to actually learn the life important polynomic division in math or to pay attention to the teacher's endless talking about Napoleon and the French Revolution. But when he noticed that this curly haired boy with his innocent face is there at any day- or nighttime, even on weekends he paid some attention towards him without the boy noticing. When Louis saw him once, pulling out some canned ravioli and a spoon out of his worn out bag, opening it up with a knife and eating it without heating it up (well how could he anyways?) he felt really bad for him at first but replaced this feeling soon, when he realised that young boys like him doesn't want to be pitied.

So he watched and still notices things that always make him wanting to learn something about this boy, who is so young, but fights more than Louis can only imagine. And every single day, Louis wants to go up to him, talk to him, ask him if he's all right, but somehow there are always things suddenly more important. Like his living room he really has to tidy up (that hasn't bothered him for weeks), or some paper works he had to take home with him, an evening with his friends or, his empty fridge, which really had to get stocked up.

But after a few months until now Louis actually notices all the simple things on the boy that have slowly change. Compared with the first time he saw Harry on this park bench, he's now absolutely pale and almost awfully skinny. His eyes are deep in their holes and the dark shadows under his eyes don't make he's young and usually flawless face look better. The shirt and jeans he's wearing are hanging low on his body and the curly hair that has looked so shiny before is now way too long and falls over his eyes. With every sip Harry takes of his water bottle, Louis sees his hands shaking so hard that the bottle clings against his teeth.