flower crowns ;; larry stylinson

;; three

it was one of those days where harry wished he never existed. those days where the constant stares and the light whispers were too much and harry felt like he was being suffocated in his own fear.

nothing in particular triggered him to feel this way; he was used to all the unwanted attention, to the kids calling him a freak. to the boys who would attempt throwing spitballs to the back of his head and to the girls who wouldn't even spare him a second glance. it was just a feeling that washed over him without warning.

his mind was racing and he couldn't concentrate on what the teacher said. it felt like her voice was distant; blurred under the irrational thoughts that were spinning around in harry's head and he couldn't help but want to break down crying.

it didn't take much for his eyes to start watering and for his throat to close up. he bit the inside of his cheek, trying his best to swallow the sobs and soak back up the tears, which ultimately failed.

he felt the lukewarm tears roll slowly down his cheeks and onto the page of his notebook. he stared down at it, watching the little drops of tears pile together until it was a big patch of water.

"mr. styles?"

he heard his name being called, but he didn't know by who. he was too consumed into how unorganized his hand-writing was, or how the ends of his pages were crinkled and ruined. he didn't like that they were straight and he didn't like how his letters weren't even; he felt like ripping the pages up and throwing them into the trash.

"mr. styles?"

his eyes traveled towards his hands, trailing up towards his wrists where his sleeves managed to keep uncovered. he didn't like seeing the faded lines that were imprinted on his skin, showing people how weak he was. he wanted them gone but at the same time he wanted to add more.

his skin itched when he felt another spitball his the back of his head, falling into the ground where the other failed attempts were. he didn't like that the teacher didn't say anything to the class; but he also liked it that way. he'd rather stay hidden.

"mr. styles!"

harry's head shot up, revealing his red, blotchy eyes that were stinging from another wave of tears that were beginning to form. the teacher sighed, giving him a pitiful look. she nodded her head outside, motioning for him to take a break which he gladly agreed to.

he quickly got up from his seat and clumsily walked outside, silently cursing himself and muttering small apologies when he almost tripped over his feet and the many backpacks that were piled on the floor.

***

he exited the bathroom, finally drying the last drops of tears that were placed on his cheeks, getting rid of the last evidence that he was crying. he checked the clock that was above the water fountain that was next to his locker, showing him that he only had ten more minutes until lunch.

he decided to walk around, strolling through the halls. he saw a few lockers, examining how the student didn't keep track on how to properly clean them. he would blush slightly when he tripped over his feet, although nobody saw him.

after a few minutes he decided to head over to lunch. so, he continued walking down the empty halls, trying his best to remember where the cafeteria was located. his memory wasn't that great, and to be fair, the school was fairly big.

he kept his eyes glued to the floor, feeling his flower crown tilt a little, watching as his shoes slid against the marble tile smoothly. he stayed like that until his eyes were meant with these filthy black shoes that surely weren't harry's.

he shifted his gaze upwards, connecting his eyes with those same minty green ones from this morning. his breathed hitched and suddenly he couldn't breathe. he felt his throat close up and his palms became sweaty.