daddy's little angel - dark zarry

chapter four

"Can I borrow this? I can't find my jacket."

Louis glanced up from his phone, seeing his friend hold up the wrinkled plum colored hoodie, that he had discarded on top of his navy hang-a-round chair earlier that week. Out of everything else Harry could find, the hoodie was the only thing that smelled reusable.

"I don't care, but it's not even cold out. Why do you need a hoodie?" the blue eyed lad asked.

"It might be chilly at the place."

Louis sighed, as he returned his eyes back to his phone. Little Harry. Adorable, shy, naive, little Harry. He was like a small kitten; someone who you'd never get mad at, nor make you yell. And it was really annoying to Louis at times.

Louis didn't want Harry to turn out like him or his friends, by any means, but he just wished he would build more of a backbone. He had dealt with tears, emotional outbursts, and petty arguments more times with Harry than he had with his own girlfriend. Something about that seemed very unhealthy.

But in a way, Louis understood it. Harry was confused. He knew the way he acted wasn't normal for a boy. Or what society had said was normal for a teenager to act. He didn't like to party, he didn't like making sexual comments about girls, he wasn't even sure if he found girls sexually attractive, and he didn't hold in his emotions either. He spilled out his heart and his feelings every chance he got.

Louis couldn't imagine how hard it must be for his friend, no matter how many times Harry tried to explain. He couldn't imagine what it was like to be teased everyday for being different. What it was like to go to bed every night, with his nightlight on, and wonder why he wasn't like the guys he goes to school with. Harry was frustrated; with both himself and the world.

"So, are they coming to pick us up or-" Harry wondered, as he slipped the hoodie over his head. Though Louis was a tad smaller, he was much more muscular than Harry, which was why the sweatshirt hung loosely around the curly haired boy.

"I think they'll just meet us there; they're pretty hungover from last night. We can leave as soon as my mum gets home," Louis explained, his eyes still glued to his phone, as he lay comfortably on his bed. His feet were propped up, making Harry practically cringe over the site of Louis's black plimsolls being on top of the comforter.

"Oh," Harry responded, as he sat on chair, moving aside the crumpled up clothing placed on it. God bless Louis's mother; no wonder they get into a lot of fights.

While Louis spent the beginning of his birthday ditching school with Eleanor and then having Harry spend the night, his friends threw a small party over at Tommy Napolitano's house, a junior who was dating Louis's sophomore sister, to celebrate. But since the birthday boy wasn't attending, and they all knew that, it was just an excuse for them to drink.

Louis loved to go out, any opportunity he had to party, he would take. The only problem was, Harry hated it. He hated the large crowds, the blaring music, and the teenagers that seemed to get more rude and more stupid when intoxicated. Usually Harry would stay home whenever Louis decided to go out and allow him to spend the night, if he was too drunk to go home. Louis would've wanted nothing more than to go out and enjoy his eighteenth birthday, but he already promised Harry he would spend the evening with him; and it actually made him feel bad to blow Harry off.

It wasn't long until they heard the opening of the front door, along with the sounds of the Louis's two dogs barking, that the teenage boys emerged from the bedroom and began walking downstairs.

"Where are you two heading?" Louis's mum asked, taking off her shoes by the door. She had complained to Louis multiple how much she hated dirt on her carpet, and Louis, being how he was, took her words through one ear and out the other. Harry, on the other hand, was just beginning to put on his red converse.