Angels in Hell (Larry Stylinson)

Chapter 12

April 7th, 2014

Alternate Universe

*Flashback (sorta)*

If you haven't already figured it out, Taylor Swift was the giraffe I was talking about at the zoo. You know, when I said "a girl Harry once dated is as tall as a giraffe". No. I was not calling her a giraffe, I was comparing her to a giraffe. Neither was I saying she looked like a giraffe (she is quite beautiful). I was only simply stating that Taylor Swift is as tall as a giraffe (which I might add is an exaggeration- she clearly isn't as tall as a giraffe). Taylor Swift. I have nothing against her. She is a lovely girl.

It's just that... when she stands next to Harry, I look at her differiently. I think of her differiently. When I saw her that day at the zoo with Harry, a feeling in the pit of my stomach that I've felt many times before came to me. That feeling that you get when your friend gets those concert tickets you've always wanted. When that guy you don't like makes the football team and you don't. Except when I saw Harry with someone else, that wasn't me, that feeling in my gut was to a larger extent. I wanted it to be me. Jelousy. That's what I felt when Harry walked that zoo with Taylor and Lux and sat on those stairs.

I stared at the pictures on the computer screen and wanted it to be me. At the same time though, I didn't. I have a girlfriend. Although, even though I've never admitted it, even to myself, Harry is the reason I wanted to get a girlfriend in the first place. I wanted to get a girlfriend to cover up the fact that I might have feelings for Harry. To forget him. I thought that maybe if I had a girlfriend to love, I'd forget my feelings for him. But as time passed, I started to realize that love doesn't work that way. Life and love take us by surprise. I couldn't forget Harry no matter how much I tried.

I didn't love Eleanor. I don't. As a friend, yes. But Harry's a different story. I want to love Eleanor. Not Harry. I can't love him. I've been told my whole life that being gay is wrong. It isn't a choice, though. Right?

I didn't choose to be born the way I am. I want to like girls so I won't be judged. I can't change who I am. I won't. The problem is, I'm still trying to figure out who I am. I know who I want to love. I know who I want to love more, yet don't want to love at all. Life is confusing. Like I said, it catches us by surprise. Life is filled with questions that sometime never get answered.

They leave us guessing and wondering. One moment we're on top of the world, and the next we're in a ditch. Helpless. Hopeless. Confused. Asking so many questions that may or may not be answered.

"Does Harry love me?"

"Are Harry and I supposed to be together?"

"Meant to be together?"

"Destined to be together?"

"Do penquins have knees?"

"Who do I love?"

I closed the laptop and sat in the livingroom like I always did. I waited like I always did. I stared at the door like I never did. I was starting to doubt that Harry was coming to visit me that day. Like he did most days. Almost every day. The same exact way. I memorized it. Every day almost, he walked through the back door. I always hear his slow, soft, footsteps make their way inside the kitchen.

If it's been a hard day, he opens the fridge to get apple juice that I always make sure to have just for him. If it's been a good day, he'll walk straight past the fridge and into the livingroom where he expects me to be. He'll look at me with big green eyes and say "hello" in his deep, husky, voice and I'll respond. Then, I'll do something stupid to make his smile whether he's had a bad day or not and he'd laugh and sit next to me. Everything would be great. That day was different, though. I waited. And waited. And started to lose hope. But he came like he always did through that door.