Silenced- A Larry Stylinson Story

Chapter 32- POV Harry: Lost at Sea

"It's gonna be fiiiiiine." Niall says, slurring out his last word lazily, emphasizing the fact that, well, he thinks it will be fine.

It's morning- the second to last day of break- and Niall and I are sitting on the sofa eating breakfast- leftover pizza. Jay made me go home to give Lou time to rest after I visited him yesterday, but not before we had a sweaty makeout session in his cramped bedroom for long enough that my lips are now puffy and bruised, still not recovered from the arduous encounter.

Niall throws a grape at my face, and my mouth opens in reflex, tongue extending in attempt to catch the fruit. With assistance from Niall's lousy aim, the grape bounces off my forehead and lands on the couch, leaving us both cackling heedlessley. I grap the grape from off the cushion and toss the it gently at him, where it gracefully lands in between his teeth, and he crunches down on it. My eyebrows fly up in judgement at his inability to throw, and his raise mockingly in response.

I shake my head in sarcastic disappointment and he chuckles, muttering, "You abysmal prick." barely loud enough for me to hear.

"Ugh, using your fancy smartass vocabulary words to insult me- how civil of you."

"Oh piss off, you're just mad that I can do advanced calculus and you're barely passing Algebra 1." He refutes.

"If you mean by "passing" that I have a solid B then yeah, sure, go with that, whatever helps you sleep at night."

"Oh, what a boring comeback." He rolls his eyes.

"Do you see how hypocritical that is- you're the most vanilla, suck-up of a child a parent could ask for."

"At least my parents like me." I wince. "Too far?" Niall suggests, mouth twisting up in sympathy.

"Too far." I confirm, but don't take heart to the dry insult. It's no use, since at this point I don't care whether they like me or not. "So, speaking of my parents, I should get going soon."

"What are you gonna tell them?"

"That I'm moving out and that they can suck it." I take another bite from the pizza, and a string of cheese spans the length from my mouth to the plate, a good twelve inches. Niall chuckles.

"That doesn't sound like it's gonna go to well."

"It probably won't." I shrug carelessly. At this point I have given up on the hope that I could talk them into accepting me; I'm more mad at them than anything else.

Niall's cat, Marcel, strides in with a conceited strut and gracefully jumps onto the couch, sinking into the soft cushion. I pick him up from the middle and hold him in my lap, stroking his soft coat. He slowly turns his head in my direction, and I wink at him playfully. 

Turns out he doesn't like this, because he rapidly extends a paw towards my face, claws sinking into my flesh, leaving three parallel scratches across my cheek.

I yelp and push Marcel aggressively towards Niall, who is howling in laughter, clutching his stomach as his face reddens. I glare at him with a sharp scowl, and he composes himself. When he glances up at me one more, he begins howling again, which I ignore, rolling my eyes.

After cleaning up my face, I shrug on a coat and step out into the damp air. My shoe sinks into the ground, which is moist from the rain that watered the earth that morning. Droplets of water cling to blades of grass, and jump at the chance to moisten my shoe when it collides with the blades. A continuous drizzle sits in the air and casts a balmy fog over the road, giving the effect that it's the early hours of the morning, when really it's almost noon.

As I stride down the road to my house, I prepare what I am going to tell my parents in my head. Five times, I prepare a speech, then throw it away when I imagine their reactions. 

I'm more nervous for this than I thought.

As my house comes into view, I feel a little nauseous and my hands are shaking. 

The yard, usually perfectly landscaped, spruced and tidied, looks unkempt beyond belief. Tree branches litter the lawn, which at the moment resembles somewhat of an extremely shallow pond. A few birds perch on the dry sections of grass and drink from the murky puddle. They fly away as pass the white picket fence and I approach the front steps.

The house itself looks perfectly tidied from the outside, but then again it has only been days since I was last here. I lock my fingers together politely, then decide I'm not going to be polite and unclasp them, raising a hand to knock on the door.

Just then, the tall, mahogany door swings open to reveal my very angry looking father. He is wearing a posh suit, though it has wrinkles all over, and his hair is slicked back elegantly. He is not wearing shoes, however, and his socked feet make me giggle. He looks like a chubby, pouty child.

"Anne." His voice booms into the house, making me jump. Within seconds, Mum has scurried over to the front door, fashioning a purple bath robe, slippered feet, and hair pulled up in a messy bun with a worried look across her face. When she sees me, it appears as if someone has just lifted an elephant off her shoulders. Her shoulders drop, back straightens, and eyes gleam in relief as she pulls me into a tight hug.

"...Mum?" I mumble after a few seconds.

"Yes, dear?"

"Um... I can't breathe."

"Oh! Sorry." She releases me and I straighten my outfit- black skinnies with a white shirt, grey cardigan and patterned scarf, and a puffy coat overtop to keep me warm. "Would you like to come in?" She offers hesitantly, glancing at my father.

"No, he would not." He interjects aggressively.

I clear my throat. "So, um I basically just came to say... farewell. And... thanks for nothing. Especially you, Dad. You've made no effort to support me or my relationship." I take a deep breath, gaining confidence. "I am in love. And obviously, you don't know what true love is, because I've seen the way you treat Mum, and because if you did you would understand that I can't choose who I like! And that I can't control the way that I feel on top of the fucking world when I'm with Louis. He is my other half, and..." I sigh disappointedly and shake my head. "Why am I justifying myself to you? You obviously don't care. I'm better off without you, anyways. Mum, take care of yourself. Dad..." 

I begin to leave, then, at the last minute, I whip my head around, eyebrows furrowed in pure rage. "Dad, go to hell."

I strut away, and I feel like a movie character-all powerful and confident.

They say, "Family means nobody gets left behind."

But I got left behind the second I came out as gay. I got disowned; I got frowned upon; I got ridiculed; I got mocked; I got beat up; I got repudiated; I got sent away.

I became lost at sea. 

But Louis was my raft. He kept me afloat, let me use him for guidance. And I did the same for him. 

A raft can't float without a sea to float on, and I held him up until he got the strength to hold himself up. Until he started to patch his broken parts. 

And, as time elapses, we continue to lean on each other in a bittersweet mutual respect that keeps each other afloat.

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