Shit, you thought Larry was bad?

Fear and Forgiveness (2)

((The fact that this story has 500+ reads makes me ...uncomfortable. I was expecting like... 1? HAHA!

Woah, an update? Crazy. Well, I finally got some time to write, and here's what I've accomplished in the last few days. I was pretty high, so it might be shit. It's unexpectedly long and I'm not sure I like it so much, but we'll see. And knowing myself, I'm probably going to come back and edit/add stuff too. I'm trying to make it connect more and add in more detail and plot, or whatever the fuck. So, yeah. I think it's pretty clear I don't write in order and this whole book is a joke, and a mess. Anyway, here you go. Byeee.))

Song: Falling - Harry Styles (Here's a song you didn't ask for. Idk, it just fit my mood while writing this, so I thought I'd put it here for shits and giggles.)

***

Harry shoves his way through the crowd of people, tears in his eyes already, and seriously asking himself — what the actual fuck is wrong with his boyfriend?

He is leaving, going home. He cannot sit there and act normal while his boyfriend disrespects him like this. Sure, they have to act as they usually would so nobody knows of their relationship, but that doesn't mean Edward can just do... that! It was like a big 'fuck you'. Does Edward really think so little of him? Does he not respect him at all? A hundred and one thoughts and concerns fly through his head. Most of them just angry thoughts, really; thoughts of screaming at his dumbass twin for being such an inconsiderate asshole...

So, Harry and Edward are out with their friends at the pub as they usually are every Friday night, and everything was going great; they were having fun with their friends, getting a nice buzz going, and have managed to keep their hands to themselves. Well, mostly. They were all sat at the far corner of the bar — their usual spot — engaging in regular conversation. At some point, Harry had left to use the restroom, and upon returning, he noticed Edward talking to the bartender. The female bartender. He didn't think too much of it at first; seeing as how everyone makes conversation with their bartender; but when he sat back down, it was abundantly clear it wasn't just casual conversation. It was completely flirtatious. Not just on her part, either. Edward carried on flirting with the girl even after Harry was back in his seat, right fucking next to him. Harry tried — a few times, actually — to regain his boyfriend's attention, but to no avail. Edward straight up ignored him. It was embarrassing, honestly. He tried to sit there and act normal; reengage in the conversation with his friends — who, thankfully, remained oblivious to everything — but he didn't make it ten minutes before he was about to burst into tears. Therefore, he got up, and quickly walked off.

Once he's made it through the crowded bar, he forcefully pushes the door open and goes outside. It's dark as hell, he's slightly drunk, and he has no idea what time it is, but he doesn't care; he's walking home. It's only about a 15 minute walk, anyway, and he could use the time to calm down; to prevent going home and unwillingly falling back into bad habits.

Harry is full on crying now, silently, but with a steady stream of tears falling down his red flushed cheeks. He knows he probably looks rather crazy right now, drunk and crying while stumbling home, but he's too upset to care.

His mind wanders more, and the underlying reason as to why he is so upset, finally presents itself — it's not so much the flirting itself and the disrespect, rather, it's the fact that Edward was flirting with a girl. A little flirting isn't something Harry would usually get upset about; but he is scared that Edward has finally realized he prefers women, and he doesn't want him anymore. You see, Edward has always, always been straight. Never in his life has he ever been attracted to men, and Harry knows this for a fact. Harry isn't necessarily thinking Edward has lied about his attraction or his feelings, but he does think maybe he's grown tired of him, or something. It's (he's) just not enough; it was a fun experiment, but Harry is not what he really wants.