just because he's different :: l.s.

Chapter 1

A/N

Like I said in the Introduction, this is still, well, an introduction. So this is about the only chapter in a narrator's pov.

As always, love my non-readers!!!

-The Demon Loner On Fleet Street-

BAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!!

~Narrator Pov~

Ever since Harry had that experience with Louis, he couldn't keep the image of the frail lad impaled into his brain. It was an odd sight of it, at first, considering the boy had a weird style, but it suited his skeletal figure.

Harry almost found Tomlinson adorable. From his huge eyes that engulfed from his slim face, to his petite figure, all the way down to his tiny feet.

The only thing was, Harry couldn't ruin his perfect reputation for having a small crush on a, might I add, boy that he spoke to once with only two sentences to say. Especially when it came to that ass, Zayn.

Zayn might be Harry's best chum, but he could be a douche whom only judges people by the way their look or figure is, rather than the personality of their character.

But, still, Harry just sits in class, imagining him and Louis being closer than just good friends. He could tell by the way he had approached Louis -that day- that Louis wasn't such a bad person, like how everybody creates him out to be.

People just need to give him a chance to speak, which nobody does. They just feel that just because Louis likes flowers and pastel colours, he's an awful being.

So here he is. Harry is sitting outside on the bench in the outer field of his school, just thinking of Louis. Zayn can't control whom he speaks to, at all.

Harry runs his hands down his face, clearing up the thoughts scrambling in his brain. Looking around, he finds himself gawking at the beloved boy woven in his mind. Louis Tomlinson, whom is sitting by himself on the far end of the field, nibbling at his lunch and darting his eyes around the environment in horror.

Harry, for once in a week, smiles at the lonesome lad. But Louis doesn't seem to notice. His eyes are just averted to the crowd of people passing by him.

Harry just admires the baby pink shirt under the V neck, peach jumper that was adorned humble on the boy, showing off his prominent collar bones. He admires the ivory colour of his skin and his downhearted blue eyes that protrude from his face. He admires the prime of blossomed roses of all colours sat on top of his head, his hair hatful in a natural muss.

He watches as Louis would project from the crowd of students, dispirited from others. Louis seemed as if he were a daisy in a field of roses, not being picked, but only being judged because he was unlike the others. Though Harry wants to, it seems almost impossible for him to build up the courage to get up and try to converse with the bloke.

All Louis is doing is wearing the same frightened expression he's been keeping for weeks, and barely even taking a seize of his minor-sized lunch.

Then, Louis gazes directly at Harry's stead position. The nooks of Harry's mouth curve upwards, causing him to smile at the boy. Louis felt the heat burn through his cheeks, giving him a ruddy face. But Louis also felt the corners of his mouth tug, wanting to smile. Because Louis' never felt loved or seen. This is the first smile he's ever gotten from somebody, other than his mother.

Harry smiles with his teeth sheeny from the sunlight. Louis bites his lip, smiling brightly, but quickly averting his face to the grass to avoid Harry from seeing the blush forming in an even brighter shade.

But all that does is make Harry's evince grin even more vivid than before, his dimples deepening into his cheeks. Louis peaks back up. Harry waves him over, then pats on bench next to where he is sitting. Louis' eyes widen once again, wearing the scared look. But he smiles, grabs the brown bag that contains his lunch, and gets up off of the grass.

Louis awkwardly shuffles his way through the students, looking down to his Chuck Taylor's. He overtures Harry on the bench, and slowly sits down on the far end.

Harry smiles. "Louis, is it?"

The lad clutches onto the brown paper bag even harder, quietly nodding. Harry scoots himself closer onto the bench. "You don't have to be afraid, you know?"

Louis looks up at Harry, his eyes big and blue. Harry yields him a smiling grimace. Louis smiles back, his rosy cheeks almost like pop art against his pale face.

The feeling of beloved passion shoots through the boy's stomach, causing it to churn in an unfamiliar, but astonishing, way. Because his mother is the only one who can make him feel loved, but the love doesn't seem as closely related to what Harry's smile can do alone. Even the look upon Harold's face can cause the boy's belly to bubble and boil with the love he's been searching for.

But the lovely feeling soon vanishes once the bell rings for lunch's end.

Tomlinson's eyes broaden in shock as he quickly lifts himself from the bench, making his way into the building.

~°~

Harold hasn't exactly found himself. By this, I mean, Harry doesn't exactly know who he is. He doesn't exactly know his likes and dislikes. But mostly, he doesn't know his sexuality.

Harry never thought he was gay. He thought he liked girls, and girls only. But it was when his eyes layed upon the frail boy, whom wore the flowers and bows on his mussy hair. The boy who wore the pale colours and florescent jeans and had the immense thigh gap. The boy who could be as skinny as Styles' pinky.

Once his blown out pupils set on the flimsy boy, he couldn't take them off, as if Tomlinson were glue and Harry was a thin sheet of loose leaf paper. He was stuck.

And it wasn't like Louis was anywhere close to what Harry was attracted to. Louis is skinny with a skeletal figure. He's always found wearing barrettes, bows, and flowers in his hair. He's always clothed in big sweaters, most likely to cover up the ribs that eject from his skin, and the skinniest jeans that are even fairly loose on him.

Louis is attractive, no doubt, just odd. He's always in frightened, awkward moods, especially in the halls, where his head hangs low and he walks fast. And in class, Louis is found in the back corner of the room, where he isn't easily noticed.

And all of that somehow caused Harry to become interested. He wanted -no, needed- to know more about this awkward and lean boy.

It was almost killing him. To the point that he wouldn't eat or sleep, until he created a plan in his brain to meet with this lad.

And until this boy is Harry's, Styles won't stop.