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

Chapter 10

This chapter is most Likely going to suck but there's going to be A LOT more action, thanks to Bella's smart ass brain :).

Okay. So out of respect of Sophia , I will start properly, I guess you could say, explain what Louis looks and acts like, cause I haven't exactly done that. I used to explain in full detail how Louis acted and looked, head to toe. So I'm going to start doing that. I enjoy doing that anyhow.

So yeah.

HARRY'S POV

I groan, biting the perk of my pencil and blankly gazing at the board. I've realized it's really difficult to focus on anything when all that's in your head is a gallery full of slide shows of Louis and what happened last night.

I continue replaying that scene. When I kissed him, rather than telling him to shut up and when I told him that I knew I loved him, right after he mentioned that he had loved me.

But that scene also goes along with the persona of Louis' cuts. They were there, they were entirely visible. And the worst part was that they appeared to be fresh. The skin around them were a lucent red as the scars, themselves, looked puffy and, also, red.

It didn't precisely disappoint me though, nor did it anger me. It would take a lot to have me being disappointed in Louis, as in my eyes, he does absolutely nothing wrong. And it didn't confuse me because you just kind of know Louis is a depressed lad when you look at him.

He always looked scared when he was in big crowds. His eyes always averted towards the ground, away from everyone's stares, where he persuaded himself that he felt safe. He always stood pigeon toed and was, frankly, adorable.

But what emotion had I contained when I saw the scars?

Was it hurt? Hurt because I may have felt as if I weren't good enough to keep his happiness rates satisfyingly broad?

Or was it anger because everything was taken this far to the point Louis decided to hurt himself?

No. It was pure sadness. Louis shouldn't've hurt himself like that when he was hurt enough by the names and hitting and bruises that he'd taken almost everyday of his life. His father left him, his mother's an apparent lie, and his school mates are nothing but misfits.

It's sad.

My head shakes when I hear that the bell rang as everyone shoves into the hallway. I sigh, sliding my backpack to my shoulder, scuffing my feet against the floor as I make it into the hallway, pushing through the piles of hormonal teenagers.

I run out into the field, where I've know that I must acknowledge nothing but Louis, that is if I'll be able to find him in the vast crowd.

Once I make it to the field, which, by the way, took almost five minutes to get to, which should have been a minute, if the halls were empty, I sit down in the grass.

I look around, seeing nothing but intermingled faces and bodies, forcing into one another, in rushes to get to class or lunch.

That is until I spot a floral jumper that curtains over a thinning torso and autofluorescent pink trousers that are silty at the knees. I see Louis' gorgeous face and notice he is also appareled in a pair of baby blue Ked's with white dots screening them.

His disheveled hair is crowned in a colourful choice of flowers entangled in vines that make up a flower crown.

I watch his frightened look, his eyes averting every which way, as if he was also looking for a familiar face.

That's when we make eye contact and his lips curve into a smile, as his eyes literally lights up. I can see the sun flares coming from his gleaming face. Then suddenly that smile weakens, ceasing from his expression and his head hangs towards the ground, where his look is nothing but shame.

I knit my eyebrows together and stand up, as I try to make my way to Louis. But a hand grips at my shoulder, turning me around.

I look into a pair of golden eyes that shimmer with insidious. "Admiring my work of art?"

I scoff at the boy standing in front of me, who goes by the name of Zayn. "What the hell are you talking about?"

He laughs. "I mean the big bruise upon your lover's face."

I feel my heart pound faster, my fists clench, and my teeth grit against each other. "Zayn," I begin, struggling to cool my heated face down. "Honestly, I don't know how many times I have to-"

"I know." he says, pointing to his wounded cheek. "Leave you alone."

I scratch at my neck. "Right. Leave me alone."

"Look," Zayn sighs. "I-I'm not asking for your friendship back, okay? I'm just asking you-I'm just asking for you to just talk to me. Just a second alone with you."

I stare at his face that is gleaming with a desperate layer of forgiveness, that I am not going to just give him.

"Please?" he asks.

I sigh. "Fine."

I turn to Louis and give him a weak smile and a shrug as I follow behind Zayn into the school. He draws me into the gymnasium, where he forces me to the locker room.

I narrow my eyebrows. "Zayn, what are we-"

"There's no gym this period. Just trust me." he turns to me, giving me a weird grin, continuing to do whatever.

Once we're standing in the boys locker room, we sit on a bench in the middle of the gathering.

There's a pause in our conversation that is filled with nothing but silence, the air so thick it could be cut with a knife. Or in all terms, this moment, here and now, is awkward and tense.

"Umm..." I begin, raising a brow and staring at Zayn. "W-what was it you desperately needed to tell me?"

He inhales so sharply, it could cut the tension that continues to linger. "I, uh-uh, I...." he says, failing at the attempt to say anything.

I scoff. "Look, Zayn. I don't need to waste my fucking time on this bullshit. I was actually considering in giving you a chance, which was the stupidest thing I could even think about doing. I'm gonna leave, okay? And I'm gonna spend time with my 'lover', as your idiotic ass would put it, because I'm so sick and tired of giving you these speeches, Zayn. I'm tired of it-"

"I love you."I hear Zayn utter.

My stomach clenches and my heart stops from beating. "You-you what?"

I watch as he bites his lip, looking down to the tile flooring. "I love you." he mumbles once again.

I laugh. "You are so pathetic."

I remove myself from the bench, and ignore the sobs from Zayn's throat, shoving the door open and finding myself back onto the field within a couple minutes.

I can't believe Zayn. He's been acting like such a homophobic dick, calling Louis a faggot, when the entire time Zayn has been one of the many 'creatures' he's been disgusted of. And now he has the audacity to tell me he loves me?

Fuck him.

I stomp to where Louis is, anger continuing to provoke me, as it shivers down my spine and sends trembles in my fists, causing myself to want to punch everything in sight.

Then I see Louis' trembling body standing in the middle of the field, his hands balled up in his sleeves and pressed against his face.

I approach him, grabbing his face and pushing my lips to his, receiving silence, stares, and sudden gasps from every person. I feel his stiff body soon melt into my embrace as his lips part on mine.

As soon as we let go, Louis' face lights up with confusement. "Who cares about them." I say, holding Louis' face up by his chin.

He bites his lip. "I love you."

His innocence causes me to smile. "I love you, too. So, so much."