Stormy - Larry Stylinson One Shot AU

[AU my friends! I mean... I love Harry's family.. I think. They sound like nice people. Just in this one shot, they're not... so they have different names. Yeeep. It is AU after all. Let's do this. OH. And er... possible triggers? I'm not quite sure. Just a warning though.. ALSO. There's also some really cruel names in here that I absolutely despise... but they were needed to form the douche of a character that is basically a representation of half of today's society. Judgemental motherfuckers.]

Harry Styles was gay. He'd known that he was gay from the age of 10, when at a kid's birthday party, he really wanted to kiss a boy named Tyler Plato. So he did. Tyler never talked to Harry again after that. As for Harry's family accepting Harry's sexuality, Harry's father Riley was the only one to accept it. His mother Amy and his sister Mae simply shook their heads in shame and practically refused to go any place public with Harry. So Harry told his father literally everything, and the two became extremely close. Harry was certain that he could handle being so open about his sexuality as long as his father was backing him up. But the day came, when Harry was 13, that Harry's father had to leave him. It was a cold, snowy night, and Riley was driving to the store to pick up some medicine for Harry as he had a nasty cold. An oncoming car slid and hit Riley head on, and Riley was killed on impact.

Harry was devastated. He'd lost his best friend, and he was fairly certain that he was the only who cared. As if to prove his point, his mother married a large man named Randy less than a year later. And it wasn't just that his mother hadn't even waited a year to replace his father, but the person she'd chose was an absolute dick. He'd call Harry horrible names. Queer. Fag. Harry already had enough of that from the kids at school. But Harry still was quick to inform of his sexuality. His father never liked it if Harry hid who he truly was. Randy didn't work, so they'd been forced to move into a tiny two roomed house. There'd been a countless amount of times where Harry would wander into the bathroom and open the medicine cabinet, thinking of how easy it could be to just join his father. And then Louis came along.

It was the end of the summer, and school was only about a week from starting up. Harry, being 17, would be starting his senior year. He was seated on the couch, which was also his bed, when Randy came up to him, clutching a dirty dish in his hand.

"Queer!" he bellowed. "I thought I told you to do the dishes?"

"I did, Randy," Harry mumbled, gazing up at the older man.

"Clearly," Randy held up the dish. "You did not. Clean it."

Harry grunted as the plate was shoved against his stomach. But he stood, slipping past Randy to retreat to the kitchen. He'd learned, after multiple bruising events, not to disobey Randy. He washed the plate, and then he slipped on his shoes and raced out the front door before anyone could stop him. He walked furiously down the driveway to the sidewalk, not really sure where he was walking to. It was as he was approaching the lovely house that sat next to their run down so called home that he realized there was a moving truck in the driveway. Harry was examining the truck as he walked, and didn't notice that a feathery brown haired boy was stumbling out from around it, his view blocked by a stack of boxes. And Harry ran right into him.

"Oops!" he heard a light and slightly raspy voice ring out as he toppled backwards and boxes spilled around him.

Harry sat on his rear end, staring in confusion at the scattering of boxes at his feet, only snapped back to reality as a hand was thrust into his face, "Sorry about that, mate! Suppose I should have been watching where I was going, yeah? But I mean, I'm 'sposed to carry in five boxes... and then my siblings and mum are gonna get the rest. And two trips are for the weak, huh?"

Harry's gaze slowly flickered up, and his eyes fell upon the most beautiful boy he'd ever gawked at in his life. Much more attractive than Tyler Plato had been. Glancing down at the boxes, he realized that it had actually been his fault that the boy's boxes were now all over the pavement. What a fantastic first impression, he thought, stupid, stupid, stupid-