Revenge Is A Dish Best Served [Larry Stylinson]

Instalment Five

I let a month go by Harry, I kept my distance, but don't worry, I've been watching from afar. Analysing your behaviours, I didn't want to ask you about your past, I couldn't have it seem like I cared, because I don't.

You don't really do much Harry, you're a simple being and I like that. Your behaviour is predictable, and I like knowing what to expect from you. You're easy to track, you're easy to chart and with a that amount of foreseeable behaviour, it gives you an advantage to control. I'm learning things about you that I know I can use to my advantage later on.

You spend a lot of time at that library Harry, checking out the same books, no, not the same titles, but all the same story. And it's all that tragic romance, you like yourself a drama. Love that never lasts. And that's where all of my questions lie.

You do, however, do well in English Literature in class, your work was presented to the class as an example of what we should strive for. You wrote about love, you wrote about beautiful love, which is obvious bullshit, but I didn't understand. How does a story you've never read, be told so beautifully from your fingers?

Do you write what you want and read what you know?

I have questions, Harry. I think that's what ultimately led me here, standing in your bedroom whilst the rest of the house was vacant.

Your bedroom was to be expected, simple, like you. I walked in and was ultimately at peace with what I found, there was a certain comfort in not dealing with any surprises from you. Off to the left, was your bed, a double bed, neatly made, positioned against the wall, with the head of the bed facing the door, grey comforter, black pillows. Simple. Moving my eye around the remainder of the room, it houses a desk underneath the window, it's completely organised and immaculate, a double sliding door wardrobe and then to complete the aesthetic, a floor to ceiling, black oak bookshelf, completely stacked with books. 

Have you read all of these, Harry?

I'm guessing that you have, being that you continue to borrow new books from the library, why is it you like to read so much? Does escaping to a different form of reality spark an interest in you? Do you like pretending to live an alternate life?

On your desk if your computer, a desktop, something I haven't seen in a while, the modern-day youth never really get involved with anything other than a laptop, but your ability to be different, I like this. I didn't know this was a trait I found titillating, but here we are.

Shuffling around the mouse, it opens immediately to a home page, not password protected, how trusting of you. Even your desk top is organised into files, you really do like order, don't you Harry?

I've found myself lingering over your photos tab, a direct link to inside your inner circle. Perhaps a direct link to your past life Harry, a life before Charlotte High.

Of course, more folders.

Christmas 2017

School Files

Wedding

Christmas 2018

Birthday's

Christmas 2020

School Files, I find myself engrossed in this one to begin with. Opening it I really didn't find anything of surprise Harry. Keeping that trait that I love about you. But in this case, offers a little more disappointment.

But you had a best friend I see; he is in a lot of these photographs. You look, happy? Was this a life you were comfortable with? Is this where you find your happiness? With these people? With this guy in particular? I hate him immediately.

Coming out, I click on the Wedding tab next. This is your mother; this is her wedding. You look a little younger here, my guesses are maybe 12? The man in these pictures Harry, is he the boogie man? It's okay Harry, his appearance is imprinted into my memory now too. If he hurt you Harry, I can promise you, he won't anymore. You don't look happy in these photographs Harry and I want to know why? Come to think of it, your mothers smile, it isn't genuine. I've seen her smile, she displays it often around you, and this, is not it. There's more to this but I'll come back to it later.

Christmas 2019, it isn't here. Why? Another one I will be returning to at a later date. I need to know why, but I know the boogie man is involved. He is present in the Christmas of 2018, however not in 2020. So many questions, Harry. You're a simple person who offers me the most amount of complexity, I don't appreciate it.

Your social media pages are tedious, you don't exactly like to share much, nor do you post any pictures of your appearance. There is, however, plenty of pictures of coffee orders, or scenery, books your reading or a band which I have gathered you have seen incalculable amounts of times. Is that really The Fray? I like that band too, Harry. What do you know, we have something in common?

Every picture however is captioned, I required google to help formulate where these quotes came from and they are all out of literature. You do not wish to be seen, Harry Styles, but you do wish to be heard.

These captions help describe a thought you are having, or a section in fiction you relate to, or wish you related to. But why is it all in French? Simple, may not be a word I should use to describe you anymore Harry. Sure, okay, maybe to the world you give a performance of this simple-minded, easy going, shy new boy, but I dig Harry. I find out all of those tiny details that make up a person, and you are proving to be anything other than simple in the way your brain operates.

This makes me nervous.

I've decided to leave your place now Harry, but I left you a gift. I hid it amongst your organised chaos, let's see just how much you like to keep order of things. Will you realise that I have been there? Or will the outlandish idea of someone being able to grant access to your house, uninvited, be out of the question?

Questions, upon questions.

That's all I am left with you now.

And it's really starting to piss me off.

I like to know things. I am a pantomath after all. I enjoy being highly knowledgeable in every aspect of life.

It's time to pull you in closer Harry Styles. But not to me. No, that can never happen. The last time I got close to someone, well let's just say we both ended up hurt. He absolutely destroyed me, and I won't let that happen again. The smallest amount of vulnerability I showed, and they ended up becoming my weak spot. It's a mistake that you only make once.

Make it twice and you end up dead, isn't that right, Hugo?