Secrets {Larry Stylinson}

If i'm louder, would you see me?

[ignore this chapter it needs serious editing its shit bye ]

*Louis pov*

It's been a week since I spoke to Marcel, only a few words but a few more than I had ever said to him before. I know that boy is hiding something, everyone compliments his sweet smile, but no one seems to see the evil smirk beneath it. There is something huge that he's hiding, and I'm determined to work out what it is.

He wears near enough the same things day in, day out. Trousers and a shirt, with some form of cardigan or sweater over the top. He never rolls up the sleeves of his shirt, even on the rare hot days we have. The clothes are a little over sized, like he's trying to make himself look small and venerable - what he doesn't know is that when he's lifting his chair from the desk, the cloth tenses round his muscles; he tries to hide them, but they are very obviously there, well to me.

His hair is the same every day too, slicked back with a little quiff. Quite adorable if you ask me. It's always perfect, like he put the effort in to make himself look smart. I wonder if he's trying to impress someone? He could easily get who ever he wanted to, no one - including Marcel himself - see it yet, but he's beautiful.

What catches me the most are hidden behind his big geeky glasses. Those eyes of his look like they could tell a story on their own. They are the things that do change, at the start of the week they are dull and tired looking, like he's been up all weekend, but what would he be doing? As far as I'm concerned, he doesn't seem to have many - if any - friends. As the week progresses, his eyes get brighter and perkier. Then on Friday, it's like there's a fire going on inside of his head; they're mischievous and naughty, like there's something on his mind that he's looking forward to. I've fallen for those eyes, but they don't know me yet...

As for me, I am aware that I'm popular. I don't know why, I'm an ugly mess. I have too many secrets that would ruin me if they got out, why would a guy like me, like boys? It's not normal, I'm not normal.

I do keep myself hidden away at school, carrying my skateboard around so I can get away from sticky situations. All the girls love me, constantly flirting and the boys want to be with me, asking if I want to go to their parties or play a game of football.

They just don't understand that I'm happy in my little world of imagination... What do I think about? Marcel. He's got me trapped. I want to get to know him, but he probably hates me.

Everyone probably hates me. My dad walked out on me and my family years ago, and now my Mum tries her best to pay attention to me but I just want to be left alone. Although I'm never really alone, I have my head.

Sometimes I wish I didn't, it makes me do things I don't want to. It's like my mind, has another mind of it's own. As soon as I get into my room, I break. But then again, no one would know would they? I use my skin as my sketchbook.

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