Occupational • larry• |ON HOLD|

~3~

Harry's P.O.V.

~

"Really mom? A fucking babysitter? What am I five years old?" I couldn't believe this shit.

Mom walked in, obviously tired as fuck because she didn't even bother to hang up her coat. She let it fall to the floor. She sighed angrily, "Harry, It's only until after I come back from my trip, and he won't even bother you. It'll be like he's not even here. He'll cook for you, keep the house clean, and do whatever else needs to be done." She threw her keys and purse on the ground as well. Making her way to the couch to collapse.

"But he's LIVING with me!" I emphasized 'living' just to make sure my point and my frustration were getting across.

She took a deep breath, released it slowly further preparing to speak. "If I could trust you, maybe you wouldn't need a babysitter".

Oh bloody hell. She did not just go there.

I'm done.

"Whatever mom, I'll be glad when you leave, maybe the fucking babysitter will trust me."
I took my bag and ran for my room, slamming the door behind me.

Faintly, I heard behind my wooden door, "I doubt he will" from my mother.

I stared out my window. It was a dreary day, like the type of day where you'd lie in bed all afternoon and think. Mom tells me I'm troubled, deeply troubled. I am not troubled, I'm simply misunderstood. Nobody gets me. Not all the counselors and therapists, frankly in my opinion, seeing someone to talk about your "feelings" is only a place of judgement. It's rather embarrassing for me.

Maybe I don't want to talk about my father abandoning me, did anybody ever think of that?

Mom says I act out. What I do is not acting out, it's having fun. Life is boring, and I spice it up.

I pulled out my flip phone, the one I had recently bought due to previous problems, anyway, I pulled up my messages, and started typing to Zayn.

"Can't take this shit, come get me? I would take my car, don't want mom to know I'm gone"

I hit send and placed my phone on my bed while approaching my closet getting out a duffel bag, I got a pair of gym shorts, a tank top, socks and underwear. I snuck out into the hallway, my feet making the old floor squeak and rattle, quickly I ran into the bathroom and shut the door. I stuffed the necessities into my bag, while running a hand through my shaggy curls. I stopped in my footsteps as I was about to leave and I turned around, pausing for a moment to admire my reflection in the mirror.

I looked tired. Tired of running from myself.

I threw my beanie on, because I knew I wasn't coming back tonight.

I felt the pouch of my hoodie vibrate. I pulled out my phone, flicking the lid open.

"Yeah. On my way, got Liam w/ me..."

~

Louis's P.O.V.

~

Mum still stared at me waiting impatiently for a response. "Well what did she say?" She lightly scolded me.

"Oh! Well, she just needs a live-in sitter for about 3 months." I said it like it was no big deal.

Her jaw dropped. "Three months?! How are you supposed to keep up with school?" She tapped her foot on the floor thinking she had won.

"I can keep up, I'll have my own room, besides her son won't get home from school until maybe 4-5, on most days." I persuaded.

She took a deep breath. "Gee Lou, I don't know. How old is her son?"

I hesitated. Before mumbling. "Sixteen".

"How old?" She snapped.

"Sixteen." I said in a slightly louder voice.

"And he needs a bab—" Mum was cut off by a drunken father of mine. He growled and moaned as he stumbled into the room. "I didn't raise no fuckin nanny did I?!" He took another slug of his bottle of whiskey.

Nobody answered him.

"When I am talking I expect a fucking answer!" He threw his arms around recklessly.

Mum stepped forward placing a small delicate hand on his shoulder, "Honey, Louis was offered a babysitting job, and he wants to accept it." She said in a soft, comforting tone. She was too compassionate to him, and he was an angry, ruthless drunk. He quickly smacked her hand off of him, huffing out a breath of aggression. He threw his hand with the bottle in it up in the air, thrashing it down with such intense force I was barely able to get in front of my mother quick enough before the glass shattered on my head, shielding mum from his wrath.

Everything was fuzzy and blurry for a few seconds, and during those seconds I could only barely hear sobs coming from mum. I felt shards of glass in my hair and there were tiny pieces of glass lodged in the top of my head, along with many bleeding cuts on my face.
The fact that I was covered in whiskey didn't bother me, in fact, none of this really bothered me. What disturbed me, and what truly pissed me off, was that mum was crying.

She didn't deserve this.

I came back to my senses enough to step forwards and shove the intoxicated man by his shoulders. His body was simply too stupor to regain its balance, this caused him to fall backwards into the wall. His limp body slid down the wall after his head slammed violently against it from the force of my push.

He just laid there. He didn't move. He didn't open his eyes.

"Is-is-is he dead?" Mum was shaking at this point and all I could do was take her in my arms and do my best to get her to stop trembling in sheer terror.

"No, he's just unconscious. He'll come to, but I wouldn't want to be here when that happens." I took a moment to look down at my hands, they were covered in blood and whiskey, with microscopic shards of shattered glass stuck in them.

Great.

"Here, let's get you in bed mum, you've had a long day. It was only 7:30, although I decided it would be best to keep her from father upon his awakening. I led her up the stairs, and into her room before she sat down on the bed. I got her pajamas out of her dresser drawer, also lying those on the bed.

"Relax, he's probably not going to wake up until tomorrow morning. I'll the lock the door on my way out. I love you Mum." I kissed her cheek, and hugged her.

I love mum. She takes care of us. She's the only human being I genuinely can't live without.

"Keep this door locked. Go to sleep okay?" I stepped back and starting moving towards the door. I flicked the light switch off before I peaked back into the room and whispered "Goodnight Mum".

"Goodnight Louis. Thank you." She replied.

I pulled the door shut, then I leaned my back against it, filling my lungs and releasing a much needed sigh. I needed space.

A lot of space.