A condition brought them together, but it's far from what you'd expect.
Harry Styles is a simple, seventeen year-old student - a boy exploring his sexuality with different partners, but who never knew what to be in love is.
Louis Tomlinson is a weal...
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The constant buzz of the outside world stirs him from the alternative universe he wished he could live on. He moves his fingers for the first time that day, trailing the dry spot of tears in his face all the way down to his chin. And he hated that; waking up with a headache from so much crying that it seemed like his head was going to explode, even after all these hours. He rolls over to the other side of the bed, the back of his hand scratching his eyes. He didn't want to wake up, not that morning, not any other day.
"Good morning, sunshine!" His mom walks in unexpectedly, carrying a tray with food and smiling at her little baby, as she always claimed. "I brought you breakfast."
Harry yawns with his face buried in the pillow, not wanting to wake up and face the real world - a world where there was no peace of mind or tropical sun.
"Come on, Hazzy! I made your favorite breakfast" Anne stands in front of him, until he decides to finally open his eyes.
"Blueberry waffles?" he perks through the sheets like a kid playing hide and seek.
Her smile widens in response.
"Indeed. Now, don't I deserve a kiss for bringing you breakfast to bed, you lazy sloth?"
Harry sits up, reaching out to kiss his mother's cheek. "Thank you".
He's handed the tray and rests it over his crossed legs, inhaling the warm air of the waffles that always made his appetite grow abruptly. He notices a strange look on her face; she seemed pensive as her eyes traveled across the room, like she was searching for something she didn't even know.
Harry stirs his scalding tea, so that it cools off quicker.
"So, how did last night go?" She finally asks. He doesn't want to remember last night. He had probably forgotten about it for a few more minutes if she hadn't unpleasantly mentioned it, making sense of his suspicious depression.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you got home so late and..." She pauses and Harry takes the chance to bite at the corner of one of his waffles.
"And what?" His voice comes out muffled from the food.
"Your sister said she heard you crying."
His eyes immediately dive to his plate, anxious and desperate to find a suitable answer. He would never tell his mom that he was put down for being himself, something she always taught him and praised. Nor would he tell her that he went to a club with an area where people engage in sexual activities and he was guilty of being one of them.
"I'm worried about you." Her hand reaches to caress his arm and the word 'freak' echoes through his mind, still so present all of a sudden.
"There's nothing to be worried about" He shrugs, but to his bad luck his mother could tell if he was lying from miles.
