When Blue Eyes Met Green - Larry Stylinson [AU]

chapter 3.

i'm sorry about the wait, guys. i feel terrible. i managed to write this in two days and although it's rather short, I still hope it sufficed.

this is unedited.

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"no mum, please. don't make me go in, please!" harry pleads, salty tears perch on his waterline.

"that's enough, harry!" anne hisses, "you're acting like a child. i'm doing this for your own good. no one else's, honey."

harry wipes harshly at the tears trailing down his rosy cheeks and kicks desperately at the nearest wall, then he's resting his forehead hopelessly against it, blood shot eyes squeezed shut.

he heaves a sigh then releases it through his nose and feels the presence of tears prickling behind his eyes again.

his mother hesitantly reaches out to place a soothing hand on his shaking shoulder, but harry swats it away quickly and dashes for the therapy room.

everyone's staring.

necks craned, mouths agape and eyes wide.

then harry takes his fist step inside with evident reluctance.

"nice to see you back, harry." dr.perez smiles.

harry dismisses the comment with a nod because it's clear that nobody wants him here.

he trudges towards his usual position on the rug. as he bends down to sit, he notices louis and he almost wants to greet him with a friendly smile - almost, then louis is tucking his feet underneath under his legs to allow more room for him.

harry sits cross-legged next to him, trying to pay attention to whatever dr.perez is rambling on about.

he gives up when dr.perez spills the words "it gets better" and "it won't last forever".

words that everybody seems to think will make a difference to him - his state of mind.

harry peeks at louis through the corner of his eye, who doesn't seem to be completely engrossed in dr.perez's ramblings, either. instead, he's wrapping the thread of one of his bracelets around his short, tan finger.

harry assumes it's a nervous habit. harry has endless amounts of them.

louis cranes his neck and catches harry's eyes fixed on him.

harry sees blue. endless shades of blues. different hues and colors pooling around dark, inky irises.

then he sees pink. a light shade of pink, sculpted into a prominent arch on top.

the pink curls up into a shy smile.

harry's breath catches in his throat and he quickly snaps his neck back to stare at anything other than the blue-eyed boy which he could probably think of endless metaphors to describe with if he had the least amount of creativity in him.

harry absentmindedly fiddles with his fingers, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth, hopefully masking his embarrassment and the blush that's creeping up his neck sufficiently.

he can feel louis' stare burning tiny holes all over the side of his head, and harry almost feels like his silent stare is a plead for him to turn around.

harry doesn't turn around, though. he lets his mind function on its own, wander and seep into the cracks and crevices of his brain.

he doesn't know how long it is before he starts thinking, and thinking, and thinking until the last thing he sees flash through his mind are blue eyes that resemble an expensive gem stone.