Glory and Gore || l.s. ✓

Chapter 7

Harry had been searching for over an hour now. An hour with no sight of them.

No sight of them until they all came walking out of the castle, laughing together. Harry rushed up to them, asking where they had been.

"One of your maids made us cake and tea."

"I thought we were playing hide and seek?" Harry frowned, "I've been looking for you for an hour now."

James threw back his head, cackling loudly. "It's no wonder nobody wants to be friends with you, you're such an idiot."

"I thought you were my friends?" They'd known eachother for many years, and although they not have always been the nicest, they weren't horrible.

"Why the fuck would we want to be friends with a fag like you?" Eyebrows were raised and smirks stretched across faces, "you're a weirdo. You're a weirdo and an embarrassment, just like your brother."

"Awe, is little Hawwy going to cry? Run along and cry to your mummy. Oh wait, she's dead."

That was enough to tip Harry over the edge. They watched him with pointing fingers and cruel expressions, walking away a few minutes later.

Harry was left there, curled in on himself and sobbing in the middle of the garden. Perhaps they were right, nobody did want to be friends with him. He had Niall and Zayn but that was it. Those who he thought he could trust hated him, and it was obvious Louis didn't want to make friends with him.

Harry dug his palms into his eyes, trying to keep the tears at bay. Harry cried and cried, loud sobs erupting from his body and large tears rolling down his face.

He stay there for a while, his breath catching as someone wrapped their arms around him from behind, hauling him up. "Come on, you're okay." A soft voice reassured him. "I've got you."

Harry recognised Louis's voice immediately, turning around and hugging him tightly.

Louis stumbled back a bit, frowning as he rubbed Harry's back. "Come on, let's go back to the stables. What's wrong?"

Harry shook his head against Louis's shoulder. Louis turned Harry back around, allowing him to keep his head tucked into Louis's shoulder as they began to walk.

When they got to the stables Louis sat him down and went about making him a cup of tea.

"What's wrong?" Louis asked gently, handing Harry the cup of tea and sitting on the hay bail next to him.

"Everyone hates me." Harry whimpered. "I thought they were my friends but they hate me."

"Who? Zayn and Niall?"

"No," Harry shook his head, "they are sons of my father's friends."

"Would you like to tell me what happened?"

"They made fun of my clothes and then we were playing hide and seek and I was counting but they all went inside without telling me and had tea and cake. They left me looking for them for over an hour and then they called me an embarrassment and a weirdo and, and-" Harry cut himself off.

"Go on." Louis soothed.

"They called me something else, but I don't know what it means." He said, embarrassed.

"What was it?"

"They said I was a fag."

Louis's soft expression was immediately turned cold.

"What does it mean?" Harry asked quietly.

"It's just a horrible word for someone that's gay. Horrible. It's not something people can say. Why did they say it? Are you gay or...?" Louis trailed off.