Run And Hide // Larry Stylinson

twenty four

trigger warning: brief mention of self harm, sorry:(

~

"You look quite upset," I said when I was walking throughout the pathways that lead to Harry's home, seeing the boy perched on the ground as he leaned against a tree.

He perked up from where his head was down to his knees, features turning hard, "Leave."

I was shocked from his harsh demeanor, taking a hesitant step forward. "Harry," I began, taking a deep breath. "Tell me what is wrong, love,"

"You!" Harrybarked, jumping up from the ground. "You and your fucking ways, you and your fucking kisses and shit. You coming here all the damn time. Fuck you."

As I stepped closer, I noticed his cheek had a larger cut than last time, starting by his eye and down to the bottom of his chin. Anyone could tell it was fresh, blood trickling down and onto his black shirt.

"Why are you suddenly like this? You weren't doing all this when you were fucking grinding on me," I spat, sick and tired of him doing this all the time. "I've had it with your shit, Harry."

Harry stared at me, hooded eyes closing. "That was an accident. And if you've had it, leave! Like I just told you to! That was all a mistake."

I rolled my eyes, "Was being friends with me an accident as well? Was inviting me to come here cause you were, and I quote, 'lonely', a mistake too? I've had it with your shit. I'm not letting you do this any longer."

Harry was visibly shaking, a tear falling down his cheek, tracing his cut. "Stop, please."

"No!" I yelled, the boy whimpering. "You can't do this! You-I think we are on good terms all the time, just for you to end up freaking out. If you don't want to be friends, if you don't want to do anything affectionate, you have to tell me. I'm not going to keep doing this if you are just gonna hurt me."

By the end, Harry was crying more and more. He was sobbing, hands wrapping around his frail body. "I'm sorry, I like it, okay? I like the attention you give me, it feels nice. I'm just confused."

I sighed, trying to hold myself back from hugging him and letting the boy know that everything was going to be alright. Because as of right now, nothing was right. "You can't keep pulling this shit," I groaned.

"Fuck it," I said inwardly, embracing the boy into a hug. He wrapped his arms around my waist, digging his face into the crook of my neck. My hands tugged lightly at his curls, scratching at his scalp.

"You have to read it," Harry muttered, hugging me tighter.

I pulled away, my arms hanging loosely around his neck. "Read what?"

He bit his lips, unsure of what to say. I rubbed circles on his back, other hand on his cheek that didn't have a large gaping cut. "You have to read my diary, journal. Whatever, just-please, maybe it'll help you."

"I will," I said, nodding. "Do you want me to leave, so you can think? About all of this?" I looked up into his eyes, trying to figure out what he was feeling but they were showing nothing.

"Yes, please." He choked, face wet and red.

"Okay," I told him, trying to not show my sadness. "I'll come back sometime, alright?"

Harry pursed his lips, nodding swiftly. The boy pulled me in for one last hug, and when we pulled away, he looked down.

"Bye, love." I mumbled quietly, and he said it back, tone even more hushed than my own.