Therapy (Larry Stylinson)

Chapter 2 - Denial

‘So how was the first session ?’ Niall asked to his friend as soon as they sat down in class.

‘It was okay, I guess.’

‘How’s the guy ?’

He had blue eyes, a scruffy beard, was tiny as fuck for a thirty year old and had the most beautiful smile.

‘Alright.’

The class started and Harry couldn’t care less about the legal regime of Spain. All he cared about was his bed, his shoe box and a few episodes of American Horror Story. And maybe a bottle of vodka. That wouldn’t be too bad. As he stared blankly at a random spot ahead, he noticed the girl a few seats away glancing at him.

She was a tall brunette with hazel eyes that he had made out with a couple of weeks back in a club. She was pretty, nice and not that annoying, but she didn’t make him feel much, just like every other girl.

He smiled and she returned it, turning her head as her hair was swinging behind her. It wasn’t so bad having so much attention from the girls, he just wish they wanted more than say they were going out with the good looking guy from the fourth row. He just wished someone cared enough.

‘Hey.’ The girl said when the class ended, making Harry look up from his books.

‘Hello beautiful.’ He said. He was a charmer. And everyone knew it. He loved it in a way but hated it at the same time. He would always make sure to be rough as soon as someone would get too attached, absentmindedly pushing that person away.

He would always complain to be alone yet always make sure to keep it that way. Because if there was one thing he hated more than being alone, it was being lied to or manipulated. Someone breaking his trust was the worst thing in his eyes, so he didn’t let it happen. Never.

‘I’m having a party for my birthday this Friday. You should come.’ She said with lustful eyes as she leaned on his table.

‘Should I ?’ He smirked. She just nodded and bit her bottom lip. How cliché, Harry thought, and rolled his eyes, knowing damn well he was going to fuck her anyway on her birthday.

He didn’t even think about himself when he fucked them, and that was the whole point. He just wanted to keep his mind off of things and get something from it. They would queue just to give him hand jobs in the lockers, so he figured he would make the most of it.

When Friday came, he had done nothing productive. His room was a mess and smelled like weed and alcohol, he hadn’t done any of the assignments for the upcoming week, he hadn’t helped his mom and stepdad with anything in the house and hadn’t even had time to do his laundry. All he had managed to do was sleep, drink and smoke. He didn’t consider himself an alcoholic because he knew he could stop and didn’t even like it so much. All he needed was another addiction to take away the pain. That’s why he smoked as well, as soon as the bottle was empty. His mom would smell it from the kitchen but had given up on saying anything since the day he had nearly punched her being stoned. She’s been scared to open that door every day of her life since he had started college.