Touch of fear

Chapter Two

It was now 8:00 am. Harry sat quietly in the school library, his eyes burning as he typed on the computer. The assignment had only been set yesterday, but Harry didn't necessarily have any other commitments, so like usual, he had come to school early to sit in the library. Lessons didn't start until nine. Dedication wasn't the only reason, though. Harry wanted to get to class early, to avoid being caught up with the tidal waves of students. And he just couldn't be late. So many people staring at him.

The thought of all the other people, pushing and shoving to get to their classes on time. The thought of all them hands, all them people, it made Harry shudder. He paused for a moment, looking at the computer screen as he tried to regain his thoughts.

For a few years now, Harry's skin would writhe every time someone held their gaze on him for too long. Every time he heard someone breathing, or someone stood over him, he would begin to feel extremely uncomfortable.

It was inevitable. Every time someone laid their hands on Harry, he would have a panic attack. Over these few years, Harry had tried everything. He had googled methods to calm himself down, he had been to therapists and group sessions to try and overcome his fear. But in the end, it was useless.

It was inevitable. The only way for Harry to stay calm, to at least act sane, was to avoid people at all costs.

For Harry, this meant asking all his teachers to let him leave a couple of minuets early, just so he could get to his classroom without any upset. Or at break he could find somewhere to hide.

Harry could remember when this all started. He remembers the source of the problem, but he was trying to forget. He hadn't spoken to anyone about it since it had happened. But that doesn't make it any less true. He had briefly told his mum - he couldn't hide it from her - and the only way she could deal with it was by turning straight to Harry's enemy. Alcohol. Who could blame her, though? Her once loving son could hardly look her in the eyes anymore.

People in the new school were more understanding than Harry had expected, they only had to glance at the pale and tired look on Harry's face, resembling death as he walked through the hallways. That's all it took for students to understand that he was the kid who hated being touched. People would avoid eye contact or step out of his way when he walked through the corridor. Even some of the footballers sometimes looked out for Harry. Everyone was fairly kind, apart from a couple of the punks.

Harry didn't look up when he heard the library door carelessly open, assuming it was just the librarian. Harry simply hid his face against his hands and tried to work on calming himself down.

"What class did you have first, Lou?" The familiar voice called from across the library, making Harry try to sink down in his seat some more.

Zayn.

Harry sighed to himself, trying even harder now to even out his breathing and somewhat calm down. Harry never liked to jump to conclusions about people, but he despised Zayn. The black headed boy would always teasingly grab Harry, or push him about - simply because he knew Harry how worked up and upset Harry would get.

Of course, all of Zayn's friends found it hilarious to watch Harry crumble into a sobbing mess, which would only encourage Zayn more to poke and pull the poor curly haired lad, like an animal.

"Biology, with you." The other voice replied, the eye roll obvious in his voice. "Where are the biology books?"

The voices began to get closer to where Harry was tucked away in the corner.

"Right over here." Zayn's voice sounded again.

As Harry pulled his face away from his hands, he saw Zayn standing there with a slight smirk, his finger drumming against the book that he was now holding. "Look who it is." He muttered, only low enough for Harry to hear. "Lou, c'mere." Zayn called over his shoulder, stepping closer to Harry and crouching down so he was at Harry's level.

Harry never fought back. He couldn't do it. He hated drawing attention to himself. The more he would struggle, the more Zayn would touch him. If he spoke back, Zayn would grip his jaw, teasingly trailing his thumb over Harry's cheekbones and lips; he knew how to make Harry cry. There was really no winning when it came to Zayn Malik.

Within an instant, the stranger was standing by Zayn, frowning down at Harry. "Zayn. Leave the poor guy alone." Louis huffed, jabbing the back of Zayn's leg with his foot before snatching the biology book out of Zayn's hands. "You're going to make him cry, stop." The tall stranger muttered again, placing his hand on the bullies shoulder and pulling him back softly.

With a slight laugh, Zayn shook his head, turning to walk away with the other man. "It's fine. He's in most of our classes." Zayn hummed as he led Louis out of the library.