Stories we already told | Larry Stylinson

Chapter Four

September 4th 1977, Gillmoor Woods, Greentown (UK)

Harry's couch was soft and comfortable, so I woke up rested. I heard noises in the kitchen, so I understood that the other man was already awake.

I got up and reached him.

"Good morning."

"Morning," he replied.

"What time is it?" I asked, holding back a yawn.

"It must be around 8," he said, turning his head to look at a clock hanging on the wall that I hadn't noticed before. "Yeah, 8:10. Did you sleep well?"

I nodded. "Thank you for letting me stay."

"You are welcome."

Harry paused before adding: "Do you want some coffee? It's Greentown's coffee, though."

I laughed and then accepted his offer. He took a mug from the cupboard and poured some coffee from the moka pot.

"This tastes different from espresso anyways," I commented.

"I like it better, it's sweeter."

We finished our coffee, then Harry asked me to help him with the flowers.

"Yes, of course."

The weather was slightly cooler than the days before, so Harry lent me a denim jacket. He was taller than me and his shoulders were broader, so it didn't fit me properly.

"Where are you from?" Harry asked, watering the roses.

"Far from here," I replied. "Northumberland."

That was a lie.

"Oh, I wouldn't have guessed it. You don't have the accent."

Right, I hadn't thought about that.

"That's because I lived in London until I was fourteen." I explained. "I never pick up accents."

That was true.

I didn't like thinking about living in London because that meant thinking about my parents and how they kicked me out.

I was thirteen when I realized I liked girls and boys.

Without Stan I probably would have discovered my attraction to my own gender years later. We met on the first day of high school and we became inseparable. We spent all of our free time together, until, on my fourteenth birthday, he kissed me.

I freaked out. I knew my parents, they would have killed me if they found out.

I stopped talking to Stan, but I couldn't stop thinking about the kiss. I had liked it in a way a straight boy wouldn't.

Eventually I couldn't bear avoiding Stan anymore. I missed him too much, so one afternoon I went to his house. We kissed again that day, and the day after, and the day after that. It had to remain a secret, but Stan accepted it.

I'm glad he was my first boyfriend, we have been truly happy. Until my parents caught us, of course. I had never seen them so mad.

Dishonourable, disgusting, sick...

They kicked me out, but luckily my grandmother stood up for me. She took me in and refused to talk to her own daughter until she accepted me.

I've never seen Stan again. He had tried to call me multiple times, but every time I thought about picking up the phone, I remember my parents' disgusted words, so I just let it ring.

Only two years later I managed to call him and apologize.

When I first moved to Greentown, coming out terrorized me. If it went badly, I wouldn't have borne it. It took me a year and a half to tell Zayn. He was cool with it.