isn't it funny how fast things change? ::: larry stylinson

Chapter 6

Harry sits on his windowsill, looking out the window. His window overlooks his yard, which is neat. Everything is neat at his house, it seems. He sighs as he watches the leaves on the trees ruffle in the cool wind. His window is slightly cracked, just enough that a soft breeze blows over him ankles. He sighs to himself, hoping that his parents will return home soon. He flips the page in his book, trying to ignore as tears well up in his eyes while he reads.

He quickly swipes the tears from his face, sniffling in shakily. He places his bookmark into his book hastily, slamming it shut. How dare that author kill off his favorite character? Son of a bitch. He throws his book at the wall, letting out a weak sound of anger. He doesn't bother to pick it up as he slides on a green sweatshirt He slides the too-long sleeves onto his muscular arms and pushes open his door. He walks down his clean hallways and across the shining floors.

He approaches his large doorway, where his shoes lay, sprawled across the floor. He slides them on quickly, not bothering to go through the process of tying and untying them. He grabs his keys, spinning them in his fingers as he moves towards where the door to the garage is. He pushes open the door, walking towards one of his sleek and shiny black cars. 

He hops into the car, turning the keys to turn it on. He presses the garage button and slides his car out of the driveway, deciding that he might as well go to Zayn's house. His parents had promised they would be home the day before, and the day before that, and the day before that one as well. He had accepted at this point that they aren't home a lot; they don't even know that he's bisexual, and he doesn't know them well enough to know if he is safe to come out to them.

It shouldn't be that way.

If anything, he should feel the safest around his parents.

He doesn't know if he feels safe around anyone anymore.

Well, maybe around Zayn and Willow. He knows them better than he knows his own family.

It doesn't help that his ex-boyfriend turned out to be a total jerk. He hadn't even felt safe around him when he was dating him. That was probably the first red flag. There were many more that he missed.

He sighs, pressing down on the brakes as he approaches a stop sign. He looks out of his window, looking on the sidewalk. He rolls his eyes at the girl who is yelling at a boy about some fashion school or something. He never hears the boy's reply, but he watches as the boy walks away. He shakes his head, he remembers when his older sister, Gemma, was like that. She wanted to be a model so, so bad. She ended up going into business, just like her parents had, and how Harry probably would.

He presses on the gas, driving past the park. He drives around the corner and he's on Zayn's road. He drives down Zayn's road and pulls into his driveway. The house in front of him is medium sized, with large gray panels and gray bricks lining the outside of the house. He sighs, hoping out of his car and onto the hard driveway. As soon as he reaches the door, the door is flung open by Zayn.

"Hey Harry," He breathes out, letting Harry into his house. Harry smiles at him, kicking off his own shoes. The two boys chase each other into the kitchen, saying around like children at a playground. Harry looks down towards the couch, where a large pillow lays, and raises his eyebrows at Zayn. Zayn laughs loudly as Harry hits him lightly with the pillow, rolling across his white carpet.

Harry smiles at his friend, scrambling to his feet. He dashes into the kitchen, listening for Zayn's footsteps to return again. He smiles widely as he pulls open the freezer or some chicken nuggets. Zayn approaches the doorway, eyes widening in excitement at the sight of the bag. Harry lays them on the tray and places the tray in the oven.