Journal | L.S

Chapter Two

It was strange not hearing his mother's soft voice when he woke up. For as long as he can remember, his mother had always peeped her head inside his room to announce that there was breakfast downstairs, regardless if it was just cereal or a full English. He was fully capable of making breakfast himself of course, he made toast this morning, with cheese and jam and he felt quite proud of himself. 

He walked to work and he only got distracted once on the way so he made it there with plenty of time to spear but he liked starting early. There wasn't much that he did at the library. He only worked from eight till noon and at that time mostly elderly ladies browsed in there. His main job was to put away returned books and scan the shelves if people have decided to leave a book in the wrong place, which happened too often in Harry's opinion. 

He loved it when he got asked about the books, especially those that he had read a little too often but loved dearly. He could talk for hours on end about them, or until the people gave up on the poor boy and walked away. Harry never understood why. Why would they ask if they weren't interested? 

He knew that library better than anything. You simply had to ask about a title or an author and the boy could lead you to it in a matter of seconds. His favourite place was the little nook in the children's corner. He could spend hours there if he had the chance. It was so peaceful there; it was rare that kids would enter the library at the time he was working plus everything was decorated in blue, his favourite colour. If Harry was on a break, you would definitely find him there. 

He took a book home with him every day to read and sometimes he would take more because when people would return books that were falling apart or damaged in a way that it can't be borrowed again, the library let Harry keep them and that's why he has a little too many books, which he made sure to love equally. 

"You." Harry jumped in the air, dropping his silver key on the floor. Turning around, he saw the same man that he had talked to last night, Louis, if the name on the mailbox next to Harry's was correct. 

"Me?" The boy wondered, looking at the man that looked like he had just rolled out of bed but was dressed in a black button up and black jeans. 

"Is there anyone else here?" The man rolled his eyes. "What is your name?" 

"Your shoes are untied. I would tie them because one time I fell on my face when my feet got caught in my laces. It hurt and I wouldn't want anyone to experience that." Harry rambled. "And I also recommend boots. There are no laces on boots." Harry stated as he proudly showed off his nice new black boots before turning back around to open his door. 

"I was talking to you." 

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm in a hurry because I'm taking the bus today. I like riding the bus, though it can get quite noisy when there are too many people and I don't like when someone sits in my seat. Have you eve-," 

"Oh my fuck. I don't care." Harry jumped when the man started yelling. "I simply asked you what your name was? What the hell is wrong with you." 

Harry looked down, frowning. He didn't like when people raised their voices. It happened quite frequently at school when his teacher got frustrated with him, but he never knew what he did wrong. "My name is Harry." 

"Harry." The man repeated. "Was that so hard? Well, Harry, I'm having another party tonight. I was going to invite you since you're new and all but," He looked the boy up and down, "But then again, I don't want to. I would appreciate it if you wouldn't pound on my door for ten minutes straight again unless you want me to turn the music up."