OCD ➳ Larry Stylinson

Chapter Four: To Text Or Not To Text

(The tittle is lame I know)

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[Harry's POV]

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It was the next day, during 'lunch', when I realized how strong my feelings for Louis really were. We were both sitting in our usual table, but all I did was admire the boy. I watched how his bit his lip lightly while scanning over the words of his book, or how the corners of his cute little lips would curl up in the slightest way when he thought something in the story was funny.

His gaze suddenly left the book in his hands and met mine, but I looked down at my book quickly, hoping he didn't see me staring. He cleared his throat slightly, and I looked up.

"Harry... um, like, are we friends?" Louis asked out of the blue.

I froze. Are we? Can we? How do I answer this?

I put my book down, in thought.

"Do you... like, want to be?" I asked him, biting my lip.

He immediately smiled.

"Yeah, I do, do you?" he asked, looking hopeful.

He wanted to be friends with me. Like, actually be friends. That was weird. I've never had "friends". I mean, sure a few people have acted like they were my friend around me to be nice, but no one had ever considered actually spending time with me.

I smiled. "Yeah, I-I do," I responded, mentally slapping myself for stuttering.

He smiled and continued reading his book.

Is that how it works? Do we just immediately become friends without knowing anything about each other? It didn't feel right. So, I took matters into my own hands.

"What do you... like, do... for fun...?" I asked, feeling pretty stupid. No one says that.

He laughed a bit, and set his book down.

"Well, I like to read, obviously. And I like to play football," he said, smiling brightly. "What about you?" He finished.

Oh. Right... now he wants to know about me.

I sighed and set my book down as well.

"I also like to read... obviously," I said, copying his words. "And I like to sing... kind of. I'm not very good," I finished.

He laughed. "Ok, tell me more."

We spent the rest of that day telling each other about ourselves. I told him about my parents being divorced, and about my sister. He told me about his parents and his four sisters. It was fun. We laughed at things, and joked about stupid stuff. For once in my life, I felt like someone cared. I found out that Louis moved here from Doncaster because of something at his old school he didn't really want to talk about. He wanted to start his life over and forget about everything else. I thought it was pretty cool that Louis' parents would just upright move like that, considering my mom doesn't even care about me.

By the end of the period, Louis had given me his number and told me to text him later. That was exciting. Being able to talk to him altogether was mind boggling, but talking to him outside of school was insane. I smiled warmly as he passed the small piece of notebook paper with his number neatly written across it, making sure to only touch the paper and not his hand. I placed it in my binder pocket, making a mental note not to forget to text him.

We were laughing quietly about something Mr. Banks did in class today, when Louis accidentally moved his book halfway off the edge, so one half was hanging off sideways, while the other half was on the table. I gulped.

It's uneven.

It's unsymmetrical.

The little voice in the back of my mind was screaming at me.

Louis looked at me with a confused expression, eyeing me cautiously.

I just stared at the book, or probably glaring at it actually.

I had to move it. It was driving me insane.

"Harry wha-"

I cut him off when I reached across the table and quickly pushed the book until it was completely, and symmetrically, laid out on the table.

I let a sigh escape my lips and resumed my gaze on Louis. He was staring at me, his eyebrows raised in the slightest.

He hates you now.

Of course he hates you.

But, when his gaze met mine, he replaced his expression with a smile.

I just cleared my throat and looked down. I heard Louis shuffle in his seat, before he spoke up.

"So..." he said, before continuing our conversation.

I don't understand him. He completely ignores all of my weird tactics. He's never once questioned why I can't just push in my chair once, or how I need to have everything perfectly organized. It's just... weird.

When the period ended, Louis waited for me to push in my chair, again and again, and we left, continuing our normal schedule.

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I was sitting on the couch of my house, cross legged, my phone in my lap. I was contemplating whether or not to text Louis. He wanted me to, but he might have just said that to be nice. I picked up my iPhone, starring at the black screen. Should I?

I was about to unlock the screen, when my mother walked in, wearing a nice black dress. She gave me a slight smile and sat down on the chair across from me. I tugged at the end of my long sleeved shirt, making sure it completely covered my scared arms.

She looked over me for a second.

"What are you doing?" she asked me, glancing at my phone.

I gulped. What do I say?

Oh right, just trying to decide if I should text this boy that I guess is my friend but I keep having weird thoughts about him and I think I'm not straight.

As if.

I sighed.

"I was just about to-to text a fa-friend," I spoke quietly, not making eye contact.

"Speak clearly," she ordered sternly.

I shivered slightly at her harsh tone, but cleared my throat before speaking a little louder.

"I was about to text a friend," I finally spit out, making my words as clear as possible.

I looked up from my lap to see her smiling.

"Good," she said with a grin. I gulped again.

"I didn't realize you had friends," she said, scoffing.

I held back the lump in my throat.

"Well I... have one," I spoke, not looking at her.

I heard her dark chuckle and watched as she left, telling me she was going out with Robin, my step dad. I didn't bother saying goodbye as she left, instead I threw my phone down on the couch and brought my hands to my face, feeling the tears run down my cheeks.

No one loves you.

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A/N I'm angry with myself I made Anne evil I'm so sorry. I didn't want her to be but it fits. Ok so I might not be able to update this weekend but I'll try. ASLO by the way, almost every time you see italics, that's Harry's 'little voice in the back of his mind'. That's why it says 'You' instead of 'me' or 'I'. Love you all