you put the O in disOrder ➢ (l.s)

O.39

(LOUIS'S POV)

Listen.

That's all we humans can honestly do.

I still remember the sounds of the beach on me and Harry's first "date."

The in and out crashes of the waves that seemed to be singing, a familiar song. Like the one I'm listening to now.

"Creep."

Deep breaths, Louis. Deep breaths. I say to myself, pacing in my bedroom.

Today is the day. Finally.

All my notes, my stories, and most importantly, my senses, have all come to unite in one great big portfolio.

Waiting is the hardest part of it all, I think. Because everyone is staring at me, whispering and inwardly blushing at themselves for thinking about the details I might share about my sweet, flawed boy.

They all know why he isn't in school today. They knew why he wasn't in yesterday, either. They all knew.

All of them.

I want a perfect body...

I can.

I want a perfect soul...

I can do this.

I want you to notice, when I'm not around...

I notice, Harry. I notice.

Fuck the rest of 'em.

I wish I was special...

You are special, Harry.

You're so fucking special...

No. We're fucking special.

•••

My fingers are trembling, setting up my papers on the podium and fixing the overhead to show my slides.

I'm a mess.

Can people tell?

Of course they can.

That's the problem with being the last one to present. The agony of waiting has you thinking of the worst case scenarios.

When all is prepared, the lights go off, and I am left with an overbearing unsafe silence.

Until I shatter it.

"Orgasms," I breathe out, gripping the wooden edges of the podium so hard my knuckles are a winter white like the snow outside.

This project was supposed to be in the summer, but Mr.Hanna thought it was just way too long of a time period. And I agree. I don't want to spend my last few weeks of school studying Harry on paper.

I'd much rather a physical kind of study.

If you know what I mean. (Too bad I can't wink through a book, huh?)

There are a couple snickers after that, along with a few heads on desks. I'd rather be sleeping right now too, if I was being honest.

But I'm doing this for Harry.

I need to do this for Harry.

If it's the last thing I ever do.

"You laugh, I know," I say, clicking to the first picture on the slide.

It's a black and white photo I took of Harry on my bed when he wasn't looking. His curly hair is draped over his eyes, and with the lighting, streaks of crystal tears are cascading down his pale cheeks.