Misery (Larry Stylinson AU)

Chapter 1

(A/N: This story is purely fiction. This is an alternate universe story about Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson of the boyband One Direction. I do not own them obviously. Ahaha. )

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Self harm triggers, anxiety triggers, excessive swearing, homosexual smut later, some homophobic slurs that are not my opinions the least bit.

"Harry," Zayn shook him vigorously to get him out of bed. Harry was curled into a ball dreading having to get out of the warm little nest he had created with the duvet. Getting out of bed wasn't easy for him, ever. And that wasn't in the teenager way, where he was lazy. He just didn't want to live another boring ass day of his life, the constant reminders of his social anxiety floating around everywhere.

"Harry," Zayn said again resolutely. Harry climbed out of the blankets and rubbed his eyes, stretching and yawning.

"I'm up, Zayn," he said in between a yawn.

"Good," Zayn smiled, "mate listen, Liam and Niall are throwing a party at Niall's family's house in two weeks. I think you should come, they really want to meet you properly and have a full conversation."

"Zayn...." Harry started.

"I know, I know, you're not ready. But mate, you keep saying that. They really want to meet you and they know about your panic attacks and your social anxiety so they'll be even more gentle than usual, please Harry. It'll be good for you. The reason you're like this is because you refuse to make friends."

"Fine. But I'm leaving after a half hour."

Zayn seemed like he was about to coax more out of him but Harry shot him a look that said 'fuck off' and Zayn did exactly that. "Fair enough," Zayn nodded.

Harry looked at the clock. It was 7 am, and he sighed in relief. He hated going to the cafeteria for breakfast when there were people there, especially when he knew that his only friend wouldn't be there. He thought he had slept in but hey, thank god for Zayn.

He climbed into the shower, looking at himself in the glass. His expression was so lifeless, and then he reminded himself that there wasn't anything to live for besides Zayn and Gemma and Mum.

He peeled off his shirt, careful not to look at the reflection because the red gashes and bruises all over his hips scared the shit out of him.

He felt his cuts up his arms and groaned in agony when the hot shower water burned them. When he finished rinsing himself, he reached for his razor that he hid all the way behind everything so Zayn wouldn't see the blood stains. He ran it across his arms three times, not even showing signs of pain, and placed it back gently.

Harry never told anybody about self harm. He started it a few months ago, after he finally pulled out of his miserable black hole of being antisocial only to realize that he was already labeled as the weirdo who had no social skills. It took him less than a week to live up to that title because besides Zayn and his family, he never even said hi to anyone else. There was the polite smile and occasional wave to Niall and Liam but other than that, nobody. The only other person he even uttered words to were his professors and the barista at the tiny little coffee shop in the cafeteria.

Harry climbed out of the shower wrapped in a towel and slipped into his clothes. He wasn't even sure why he started to self harm; sometimes he self harmed for no reason, just to release those endorphins in a way that reminded him how much he hated himself as did everyone who had even a small role in his life.

"Harry, I've been thinking..." Zayn began, as he drew with his oil pastels on his easel. The scent of the oil and paints filled Harry's nose. That was Zayn's scent. Harry liked it. Just like he loved Zayn's breathtaking paintings.

"You've been thinking! Oh no, nothing good ever comes out of that!" Harry joked, and Zayn pretended to look insulted, painting a blue dot on Harry's nose playfully.

"Real talk mate, I think you should," Zayn paused and looked up at Harry, putting his utensils down, trying to be as serious as Zayn could be, "I think you should look into getting a boyfriend."

"So you're asking me out?" Harry laughed, poking his mate's cheek.

"I'm serious," he pressed his lips into a thin line. "Harry you need to find at least temporary happiness, mate. You're not even trying! I love you man, and I really really want you to be social and everything. Like don't change who you are but...."

"Zayn, this is me. I'm antisocial and awkward and hate people. You can't ask me to get a boyfriend and more friends and not change," Harry protested, trying to prove something to him but Zayn just shook his head, wiping his colorful fingers on a hand towel and standing up.

"Hazza. No. You, you are a funny, playful, smart and sweet young man. I know this because I know you, because you opened up that side of yourself to me. Those people out there, they don't know that because you don't let them see it. The antisocial thing is not a part of your personality. It's a result of everything that ever happened to you an it's a problem you can fix."

"Fix? I'm broken in that sense beyond repair. It's like when you drop your phone in a puddle and you need a new one because it can't be fully fixed," Harry smiled to himself, proud of his little metaphor.

"Well, countering that metaphor... If you spent a lot of time finding a way to fix what's wrong with the phone you could. You could design something or some shit, it'd take forever and people don't do it but technically they could," Zayn objected, being the twat he was, "and that's exactly what I'm going to do with you. I haven't been trying and now I'm going to."

Harry scoffed. "Yeah whatever. See you."

He walked out of the dorm and across campus to the cafeteria to grab a bite and study for the exams he was dreading. No college boy studied like him. Sure, there were a lot of nerds, but Harry wasn't a nerd because he had zero passion in studying. He just did it to pass time because he didn't know what else to do.

He opened the door to the cafeteria slowly, first checking that people weren't there. Only two giggling obnoxious girls were there on the far side, away from Harry's special spot by the coffee stand.

He set down his binders, as if he was actually going to read rather than let his mind wander off to some fantasy world where he was with a perfect dreamy boy.

The aroma of coffee beans filled his nose. He walked over to the stand.

"Cappuccino, whole milk, two pumps please.... Excuse me?" he looked down at the snoring barista. He was not the barista who was usually manning the stand in the morning, he was obviously new. Harry muttered curses under his breath. He couldn't even get a good coffee anymore.

"Sir," he gently shook him. He shoved away the anxiety of talking to a new person that was crawling in his chest. It was just the barista after all.

"Huh...?" the man's eyes fluttered open. "Oh fuck! Um sorry for swearing if you don't like swearing sorry but uh I've been tired s'all what can I get you?"

Harry observed the boy for a quick minute. He was good looking, quite fit actually. A cap was backwards on his head, peach fuzz around his chin, and cerulean blue eyes with a hell of a facial structure. Damn those cheekbones.

Harry snapped out of his little gaze. "Uh sorry. Cappuccino, whole milk, two pumps."

The boy's tag read 'Louis'. The name suited him. Louis looked a couple of years older than him although he was short and tiny, especially next to Harry who was fucking Sasquatch.

"Sir, the machine is over there," Harry pointed to it. What if this Louis didn't like posh names like 'sir'? What if Louis was annoyed by Harry correcting him? Harry bit his lip so hard there was blood.

"Please, call me Louis," Louis smiled. "Look, dude, I have no idea what I'm even doing. Fuck, I hate coffee. Help me out maybe?"

Harry nodded, pushing away the weird feeling fluttering all around his body. He didn't want to help the barista or talk to him, he wanted a fucking coffee. But he knew being rude would make him feel so much worse. Harry took the cup, his knuckles brushing against Louis's fingertips.

Harry gulped. Some people hated the sense of touch. What if Louis was one of them? "Sorry," he muttered.

Louis furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "For what...?"

Harry just shook his head. Louis stood on his tiptoes to look over Harry's shoulder and watch him prepare the coffee. Harry felt nervous, like what if he burned himself or dropped the coffee or something? That would be weird and Louis would think he was stupid and a klutz.

"Thanks man," Louis patted Harry's shoulder, "what's your name? I suppose I'll be seeing you around."

Harry gulped at that sentence. "Harry. Erm, Harry Styles."

Louis grinned. "Okay, Harry," he said so coolly, "see you, then."

Harry nodded and shoved all his binders back into his bookbag, careful as he speed walked with his scathing coffee. He wasn't going to sit there and make more conversation with this barista and say something dumb.

"Hey Harry?" Louis called.

Harry whipped himself around.

"Nice shirt. I like Nirvana," Louis winked, "please swing by more often, I need all the help I could get."

Harry nodded, but he was lying. He didn't want to see Louis more often than he had to, because he'd end up saying something stupid or he'd freeze in the middle of a conversation and annoy Louis.

Maybe he was over thinking it. Louis might've been trying to be polite, or just trying to be social. He probably didn't mean it when he asked Harry to swing by. Harry almost tripped over his feet several times thinking about it. He shouldn't be thinking about it at all.

"Hey dude," Zayn greeted without taking his eyes of the easel, "why're you back?"

Harry laughed nervously. "Zaynie, it's my dorm too."

Zayn took off his glasses and set down his paintbrush. "What's this about? You're telling me right now."

"There's a new barista and he was trying to make conversation with me and I was really scared I'd fumble over my words or something, I didn't want him to talk to me more."

Zayn furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "He's a barista, Haz."

"Yeah but he asked me my name and did that friendly social stuff," Harry told him.

"So? Harry, he was just trying to be nice. You have to face your fears. How'll you go to a party if you can't even talk to a barista whose name you don't even know?" Zayn asked, his hands around Harry's tense shoulders. Harry set down his bookbag and perched next to Zayn on the mattress, looking at his painting. It was a picture of a football {soccer} stadium, the Doncaster Rovers stadium. They were the hometown team and huge proceeds went to charity. They were Zayn's obsession as he went to almost every game.

"Zaynie," Harry sighed, "I guess you're right. Tomorrow, will you come with me? Like... To make sure I don't do anything stupid? I just want to be able to have a proper conversation."

"Sure mate. No problem," Zayn nodded. Harry smiled at how Zayn always had his back. There was a replay of last night's football game running on the tele. Harry wasn't good at football. His mile-long legs did something clumsy and he barely even kicked the ball.

He looked at all the players, who ran around so fast and were so fit. Harry longed to be that fit. He also longed to run around like that without getting exhausted in between.

But he recognized one of the players. The player was short, very fit, with light brown hair and a cute fringe. He hadn't seen him in Zayn's recorded games before. The jersey read "Tomlinson, 28". Harry watched as the camera focused on the player. The man turned his body.

Harry gasped. "Louis?"

Zayn looked at him weirdly. "You okay?"

"Louis, the barista," Harry pointed to number 28 on the screen.

"Oh," Zayn chuckled, "that's cool. Liam and Niall know him pretty well. He studies here, d'you know that?"

Harry shook his head. "No. I didn't know he was a baller."

"He signed on the team pretty recently. The first openly gay baller on the team," Zayn informed, his voice showed a bit of pride in the statement, as if to say he was happy that Louis came out.

Harry's eyes widened. He was gay? Wow, they had that in common. He felt a pang of pity, because he remembered how hard it was to come out. He cringed at the thought of coming out to an entire town, especially including homophobic college kids.

"What is it mate?" Zayn asked, "You want to shag?"

Harry shook his head vigorously. "No! No, I mean he's quite attractive and all but no! I'm not promiscuous!"

Zayn laughed at that. "Well I'd be glad to come with you. Niall and Liam talk about him all the time. He's two years above us, fourth year. He seems like an awesome guy from what I hear."

Harry looked at Zayn with a really serious look. "Do you think your friends will like me? Do you think I could be normal and make friends?"

Zayn patted Harry's knee soothingly. "Of course mate. Come here," Zayn opened his arms and Harry let himself melt into them, loving the comfort and friendly love Zayn radiated.

Zayn reached for the remote to switch of the television but Harry stopped him but swatting away his hand.

"Since when do you care more about the Rovers than you do about studying?" Zayn laughed, his pitch suggesting that he was suspicious of something, but there wasn't anything to be suspicious of.

"I want to watch it," was all Harry said to get Zayn to fuck off. Harry watched Louis in admiration, not able to register the amount of courage it would take to admit to homosexuality as soon as you started something big like the Rovers.

Louis was also fun to watch. He was very good looking, and Harry thought of all the disappointed girls who probably swooned over him in grade school. Because, in society, beauty was appreciated atop any other quality a human could possess.

He went back to painting nonsensical patterns on his easel, but those nonsensical patterns, as Harry learned very early in their friendship, would turn out to be something beautiful.

Harry was into metaphors. They were his favorite things to think about. He mentally compared the nonsensical patterns to be his screwed up thoughts and floating insecurities. Could he be something beautiful, with a lot of work, just like Zayn's masterpieces?