Put Your Records On (Punk!Louis and Flower-Child!Harry)

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

              "Jesus fucking Christ, you scared me." I bent down, picking him up bridal-style. He tugged on his sleeve, and I noticed for the first time what he was wearing. It was a white sweater but it looked large on him, but he was wearing shorts with it and there was blood all over him. " I'm fine." He said but I just carried him straight into the bathroom of the gay bar, pushing past everyone. I even kicked out the two people having sex in there.

             "What happened?" I asked, grabbing a paper towel and wetting it. I dabbed at his cuts on his face, and he lightly pushed me away. "Could you...P-please...erm...Wipe my stomach?" He lifted his shirt, and he had a huge hole in the middle where blood was slowly trickling out, and I grimaced. "What the hell happened?"

           "I was just...digging through the garbage and some...Some guys who were clearly intoxicated...Did you know drinking is really...Erm...Ow." He said, not making any sense. I slowly cleaned out the cut, not being as gentle as I should have been. "Harry!" I yelled, when he closed his eyes. He jumped a bit, before continueing.

             "Oh....Right. They said they were looking for some fun...So I asked if they meant like a board game...Then they ripped off my crown and... Broke it. I started crying and the...Guy pulled a knife so I screamed. They must have heard you running." I looked at him, almost glaring. "Why would you be stupid enought to dig through the rubbish right next to a bar? "

              He sniffled. "I was hungry...Haven't eaten since before I came here." I frowned. "Then go and buy something from Nando's, not look through the trash!" He mumbled something, and I lifted his chin, our faces close together. 'What?" He groaned, and wrapped his hand around my forearm.

               "Mmm...in pain....But...I don't have money. I just...live off the streets and work for charity." I looked at him, my lip curling back. "You're such a fucking idiot." I yelled, and he just shrugged, turning around and looking in the mirror. "Oh....I guess I need to make a new crown." He reached around his curls, pulling out some of the stray flowers.

                I looked at him in utter disbelief. "You.....You just got your ass kicked and you're fucking upset over flowers?" He frowned. "You cuss a lot." I looked at him before I started laughing. This boy was such an idiot! He wore flowers on his head and he was almost beaten to death and now he's homeless and all he is worrried about is making another crown?

               "Your laugh is pretty, Louis." I stopped, remembering what was happening. "Oh, well. We should take you to a hospital." He shook his head, the curls having a bit of dirt falling out of them. "I'm fine. M'just a bit bruised is all...." He tried to stand up, but I could tell his legs were shaking. "Damn it, Styles." I picked him up, this time in a piggy-back.

               I headed over to Zayn, only to see him kissing Liam. I covered my face, groaning. Harry leaned his chin on the top of my head, and giggled. "D'awwe, they are adorable!" I would have glared at him, but that would involve moving my head and he felt nice there. "ZAYN!" I yelled over the music, and he turned around and glared at me, blushing a bit.

               "Can you drive me and Harry back to my place?" I told him what happened, and he nodded with understanding. Liam followed. "Is he going to be okay?" He pointed to Harry, who was busy staring at the disco ball on the ceiling. It was more there out of irony than for the actual dancing.

              I nodded, saying goodbye and telling him I'll call him when he's sober tomorow with a hangover. I sat in the back of the car with Harry, holding onto him and making sure he stayed awake. "Why are you doing this?" Zayn asked, and I sighed loudly. "It's either I watch him over night and he gets well enough to go back to wherever he lives, or he stays too ill to leave here. So."

                The truth was that I was worried. My family and I always did little things for charity. Not much, just visiting the hungry on Christmas and donating money for animal shelters. I just felt the need to help someone who needed it. It was just something I had to do.

                We made it back to my place, and Harry was just barely awake. Zayn offered to stay and help, but I could tell he was tired as well so I told him to go home. "We'll be fine. Call you tomorow." I carried Harry up the steps, and he said 'You live and work here.....That's cool." I chuckled. For being so tall, he was actually really light. I guess he was quite lanky.

               I set him on my bed, figuring I could sleep on the couch. "This is nice of you...Lou. Very nice but erm....I...I just..." I patted his head. "It's fine. Just stay awake a bit longer, we don't want you to go into a coma." He smiled, leaning his head aginst my headboard and I sat on the edge of the bed. "Why are you always so god damn happy? You're homeless, you smell like shit, and you don't even have your flowers.

              His eyes rolled up, as if he had forgotten he wasn't wearing it. "I feel a bit naked without them." He shrugged, before continueing. "Why should I be sad? If I'm sad all the time, I won't be able to enjoy the few things that do make me genuinely happy. But if I'm happy all the time, I can just...Pretend sad things aren't that sad. And besides, because I'm homeless I save thousands of pounds to give to change gay rights."

             I rolled my eyes, and he just chuckled. "For being...y'know...erm...gay. You don't seem to care that we're in the same boat." I shook my head, waving my finger at him. "We are not the same, not at all. No way. Don't even compare me to you in the slightest." He frowned, his lip quivering a bit but I  just assumed it was because it was bloody and split.

             "We are the same! Don't act like being like me is the worst thing ever. You're obviously a little homophobic-" I rolled my eyes, and he glared. "And you don't realize that it isn't okay. You like boys, I like boys. Obviously we don't like each other but I'm determinded to make you see that being like me isn't the worst thing you could be. Just because I don't think I'm a bad ass who is above common human decency doesn't mean I'm not as good as you."

                 I was shocked, but soon I was laughing. "Hun, no one wants to be a little ditzy flower fairy Twink that looks like he is going to puke glitter and rainbows." I knew I was being blunt and maybe a bit rhude, but something about him just made me want to strangle him. I was never particularly violent, but he did something to my brain.

                I looked over, and he just smiled, closing his eyes. "I'm going to prove to you that I'm not what you think. But right now, I am in a lot of pain and I didn't bring my medicine with me so I need to sleep." He yawned, rolling onto his side. I watched him, noticing how his curls spread all over the pillow.

                   I sighed, turning off the light and figuring maybe I should stay and watch him, just in case he did go into a coma. I sat on the chair, watching him for a few moments before closing my own eyes.

                  Tomorow is a new day, hopefully he'd be able to recover and go back to fairy-land. I laughed, thinking that was a clever one. I smiled but yawned as well, wondering if they had anything in common at all.

No, probably nothing.

　

Hello my curlies!

I was really excited to write this chapter, because I wanted to start the rude, hating Larry. They don't get along. But then again, punks and flower childs aren't all that different, are they? Maybe the Twink boy isn't all that much of a Twink.

Opinions? Comments?

Read my other Larry stories!

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