"Harry how'd you get those marks on your neck?"
"Did you fight Louis?"
Or
A story in which Louis and Harry hate each other so much they viciously suck on each other's neck to purposely leave bruises, or fuck each other senseless.
Because that's how...
Lmaoooooo What's poppin! How's life? How's everything? Is it good? Bad? A lot has happened, but for now, I FINALLY GOT A NEW PHONE FJFJFJFHFHDHSHSH. It's the iPhone 7!! I'm so happieree!! But also, like, last chapter hasn't gotten much reads?? And I'm sorry that I'm not updating much. I know I said I'll change, I'm sorry. But hopefully I'll get those reads up. I've just been super busy with everything, and I've had major writers block. But now I know what I want to do, so yay! PAUSE IT TOOK ME TWO YEARS TO WRITE THIS CHAPTER IM SO SORRY LAMSODHDNDKSKKSS Also here's an updated face tag
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I started this book in freshman year, and now I'm a full on senior boutta graduate !!!
enjoy this shitty chapter 💖💖 -------
Okay, Harry was nervous. Like, really nervous.
He was standing by the school football field, hearing the game cheers from thirty feet away, and to be honest, he was ready to flake on Louis. Ready to tell him some stupid excuse, like "he tripped and killed himself" or "he caught Ebola" or some shit. Because, fuck, he was an absolute bundle of nerves.
But he didn't. He didn't let himself think. He just began to walk.
To the field. To Louis. To his death.
He literally had to lie to his mom about where he was going, and it didn't make him feel good. Something about doing a project at Niall's house, which she believed wholeheartedly. But as soon as the door closed, he was off, speeding as fast as the max speed of a bicycle can go to the school.
