•Let me make your life worth it•l. s.•

One •breathless•

“Little faggot!”, he says and pushes the little curly boy into the dirt of the wet street. Tears appears upon his face and he stays there, laying in the mud, thinking of how life sucks. His beanie, which once was red is now covered with brown earth and water from the puddles on the pavement. He gets up and knocks the dirt off his clothes. “They found you, didn't they?”, Niall sighs quietly, as he walks up Harry. “Even though you used another way to school.” Harry sighs and gathers his school stuff up. Niall helps him. “I'm sorry I came too late, I just forget my pencils at home.” The small curly one shrugs and takes the chewing gum of the blonde one with a little smile.

The big, grey school building was less of colours and vulgar. Harry hides himself behind a black ford mustang and looks for Louis and his friends. The Louis. Louis William Tomlinson, the boy who consumes the most drugs, alcohol and other stuff at this school. Harry's very scared of him, but he also has a little (okay...MAJOR) crush on the brown haired boy with the sky-blue eyes. “There he is!”, Harry's thoughts get interrupted by the high pitched voice of the smoking tattooed boy. In a flash they encircle the little, innocent boy with the green eyes and push Harry against the black car. He begins to shake and feels fear coming up. His eyes scurry around in the yard and search for Niall. He's the only one who can stop Louis' clique right now. “So you thought you can hide from us?”, the black haired boy, Zayn if he remembers right, says. “I...I just was...searching for...N..Niall.”, the younger guy says. Louis comes dangerously near to Harry's face and whispers: “Are you sure, Curly?” Harry blushes and shrink back. “Yes...I...”, Harry starts to say but gets interrupted again. “Mister Tomlinson! What do you think you're doing?” It is Gracie Williams, a girl from Harry's class and also a kind of friend. “Williams. Great to see you again! You don't think that, what we have to discuss with curly is none of your interest?”, Louis smiles charmingly. “It looks more like bullying as discussing.”, Gracie replies and folds her hands. Louis turns over to me and smirks. “I'm absolutely sure curly can confirm, we're talking about some private things of his. This is none of your business, how I said.” Harry's hands shake and he nods unsure. Gracie looks at him with her ‘seriously’-look on and her big nerd glasses slide down on the tip of her nose. Harry just wants to not-agree Louis and save himself to Gracie. But Louis' threatening look let him change his mind. “L-Louis' r... right...”, he whispers quietly and looks down at the floor. Gracie just raises her eyebrows. “How you want, Curly.”, she replies coldly and goes away. Harry feels hurt and alone. The fact that Gracie called him curly, the nickname which Louis and his gang use, hurts even more. “So Curly”, Louis smiles. “Where were we?” Then he sees the free space between Liam and Louis and uses it. He runs so fast, he thinks he'll never get air in his lungs again. “Curly!”, he hears the high pitched voice screaming but he doesn't really care. He just wants to go away from Louis, from the yard, from the world. The desire of death comes suddenly over him. He can just jump from the rooftop or kill himself with a knife from the cafeteria or... “HARRY! Jesus, I searched for ages! What are you doing? First lesson's just about to start, c'mon!” Harry shakes his head quietly and tears appear on his face. “I can't handle this, Niall.”, he sobs and leans against the shoulder of his best friend. “Oh no.”, Niall sighs and hugs him tightly. “Please Harry, you can't kill yourself! I'm gonna die too if you do this! Please, just breathe in...and out...here!” He ranges him his handkerchief and Harry sobs again. “Thank you.”, he sighs and rubs his eyes.

The teacher doesn't look at them, as they enter in the classroom. “Horan, Styles”, he turns around and sees Harry's teary eyes. “Come to me after this lesson, please.”, he says and goes on with writing on the board. During the lesson, Harry's drilled through by many gazes, mainly spiteful ones, it happens often, that he's crying because of Louis and his friends.
“So...why you cryed Mr Styles?”, the teacher asks carefully. Niall gazes at him angrily and lays his arms around Harry's shoulder. “I...It just kinda happened....I don't know...” The teacher sighs quietly. “I was asking why. Something must've happened before. Is someone dead or something? Please understand, I'm just worried.” Harry nods. “I...don't like to talk about...maybe later though.”
“Okay.”

At home, Harry just sits down on his bed and cries. He hides his face in his hands and feels the salty tears running down his face. He didn't want this. Why do they do that? Only because he's gay? That couldn't be, could it? “Harry, I'm home!”, his mother yells as she enters in their flat. Damn. Harry wipes his eyes quickly and sets a smile up. But his mother knows him. Sometimes better than he do know himself. “Oh Harry.”, she smiles and opens her arms for him. And Harry let it go. All the pain of the past weeks and years he loaded up, all the burdens. His mother does not ask. She's just there.

♠

“Good morning, Harry, dear!”, she smiles as she wakes him up the next day. “How are you today?” Harry tries to smile but fails. “I'm...okay.”, he nods and puts a shirt on, praying his mother did not see the long, partly still bloody, scars at his arms. He did it again. Yesterday in his bathroom. He never wants to but...it's like a drug. The bittersweet pain remembers him, he's still alive.
He sighs quietly and turns around to go. “Harry, what about breakfast?”, his mother asks and points at the table.