Treat You Better (Larry Stylinson)

Chapter 11

Love is what tore Harry apart. The thought of having someone to hold him and tell him that he was beautiful was something Harry fell for.

He was blinded by the nice words and the care to see the signs. He grew up with a bad childhood, so he was desperate to find someone.

Harry thought that he could finally be safe away from his problems if he had Jace by his side.

"What are you thinking about?" Louis asked.

"On what to write. We only have two hours to work on this," Harry sighed.

He pulled on his hair slightly as he stared down at the blank white sheet of paper.

"We could've just left it as a zero, you know," Louis said.

"No, he gave us a chance to turn it in for a late grade."

Louis rolled his eyes, "I'm going out for a smoke. You can come if you'd like."

The shorter lad stood up from the chair and waited to see if Harry was coming or not.

The lad shook his head, "you go ahead. I need to finish."

Louis sighed and walked out of the library. The lad could hear the door shut behind him as he continued to stare at the sheet of paper.

Louis had a few things written. His lettering were a bit sloppy, but it was readable. He looked back towards the door to see if Louis was coming.

The only people around were the ones who were looking for a book to check out and the librarian.

Harry grabbed Louis poem and shakily read it over. It shouldn't be a big problem since they were going to combine it anyways, but Harry couldn't help it but to feel a bit nosy.

Tattoos:

My tattoos tell a story,
A story that is never to be told.
Each one tell a piece of my life,
Each one has its own meaning.
They may make me look intimidating,
But they mean so much to me.
Other people judge me.
I just have a different way of telling my story.
The ink sinks in,
And they are there forever.
I can't change that.
They are a part of me.
I wouldn't be me if I didn't have the ink.
I like them and that's all that matters,
People can judge.
And people can stare.
But I know that all this ink means something to me.

"What are you doing?" Louis asked from behind. The taller lad jumped a bit, but turned to look up at a rather calm looking Louis.

"How long have you've been reading this?" Louis then asked.

"I just finished reading it. Your talented Louis, you should've told me that you were good at this," Harry smiled.

The shorter bit back a smile, "I don't have to tell you anything."

"Why don't you just tell me about the story of your tattoos," Harry teased.

"Fuck off mate. Why don't you tell me about your painted nails and the limping. It seems to me that you aren't the only one enjoying the nails," Louis smirked.

Harry's smile quickly vanished at the mention of the limping. Flashbacks of the prior night was playing back in his mind. The constants pleas to stop was heard and the dripping blood was felt.

It's as if he was reliving it all over again. His sweaty face was in view and the aroma of pot radiating off his skin and into Harry's nostrils was a nightmare.

"Harry?" Louis called out.

The lad blinked away the flashback and looked up to a confused Louis.