Homophobic (l.s)

Chapter 32

To Whom It May Concern,

I'm writing this letter of support to assist Harry Styles with his application and hopefully assist in his chances of being offered a place at your facility. Harry has shown immense bravery and commitment to education whilst he's been a student of mine. Although he's experienced a series of unfortunate events, not once did he falter in his academic achievements. He took up extra tutoring lessons, and always studied extra content to ensure that he was kept up to date. Not once have I felt that he's been inadequate. I believe that the utmost potential to be a budding academic scholar, and by allowing a switch into a healthier environment I believe he will grow into his full potential. This student has shown a level of intelligence and strength that I've not witnessed before and he is unparalleled in comparison to his peers.

There would be no mistakes or regrets if you decide to accept his application. I can guarantee that.

Yours Sincerely,

Mr Louis W. Tomlinson (Head of Drama)

It is right when Harry reads the who wrote it, that he feels every particle of oxygen knock out of his lungs. It's as if Mike Tyson has punched him directly in his sternum and he's left winded. Harry can't even control the fact his hands start to shake so much that the words on the paper start to blur. He also can feel his mother's presence closer than before.

"Are you alright, love? Harry?"

"It wasn't him. He didn't write this without being asked, right?" Harry's eyes widen as he turns frantically towards his mother, who's green eyes are widened with confusion. He watches as her browns pull into a frown and she blinks before shaking her head slightly. "Tell me...Tell me this is a joke?" Harry's voice breaks, and he can feel the familiar burning of the corner of his eyes.

He's not going to cry because then it would be beyond suspicious. He diverts his attention to the searing burning that is spreading through his chest, and it's enough for his brain to forget to form tears for a second. He shakes his head and rubs his hands against his jeans before his eyes flicker back towards Anne.

"He was actually the one that put his hand up straight away. He's really fond of you Harry,"

Harry's mind is working overtime and his body shakes harder as he holds in his breath. Before he completely loses it, he forces himself to stand up and forces a smile on his face. He turns back towards his mother and hands her the paper and runs his hands anxiously through his hair. A habit that he can't break.

"Excellent. He never mentioned it at all," Harry shifts weight between each foot and shoves his hands in his pocket. He feels like he is surely about to spontaneously combust. "Not even once. No head's up. Nothing. Nada. Zilch,"

"You look like you're about to have a nervous breakdown," Anne focuses on speaking gently and carefully. She's becoming increasingly aware of the fragility of her son and doesn't want him to have an outburst.

"Maybe because I am? All of this shit was happening when I had absolutely no clue. I've been lied to and betrayed. I'm supposed to just pack up shop and start over in a blink of an eye. The school really knew...L-Mr Tomlinson knew? I just... I just need some air. I need space," Harry starts off with his voice raised and hands shooting in different directions dramatically as he hits a breaking point, and as he continues he softens into a mutter and forces himself to move out of the room.

"It isn't my fault. I've thought about every option here,"

Harry reaches out and grips the door frame, hunching slightly and trying to keep his air intake up so he does not faint. He shakes his head with finality and turns his head to lock gazes with his mother again.