Occupational • larry• |ON HOLD|

~6~

Louis's P.O.V.
~
I hadn't seen him in so long.
He looked so grown up.

The masculine boy looked at me like I was something incredible. He didn't understand that I wasn't. I'm just a little boy, with an anxiety disorder, who was abused by his father. I viewed myself as awkward and pathetic, my self esteem wasn't even there to begin with, and the antidepressants I took ruled out any enjoyment from life due to the emotional numbness they caused. Life meant nothing to me, it was only a figment of my imagination. Almost as I was this walking zombie trudging throughout the constant pitfalls of immortality.
The only things I could feel were anxiety and despair. I wouldn't have to take such drastic measures with my mental health if my love wasn't ripped away from me.

It started to bother me when I became consciously aware that my father was abusing mum and I.

I had no idea that when a dad strikes a mom, it's not OK. It's never OK. I didn't know that. I wasn't exposed to anything else, I was taught that hitting, screaming and fighting was normal. I knew nothing else. Until one day, a tiny lad that was myself, dropped into class, and my year 2 teacher played the entire class a video that covered topics like divorce, fighting, basic health and abuse.

Abuse.

I felt my mind go blank the second I realized, the moment the thought hit my brain like a kick to the teeth, snatching away my childhood innocence, my happiness, and my life. All it took was one second, one fucking sentence.

The sentence that changed my life.

The psychological impact was so intense, it was constant. Always there, around the clock. It was mental torture, like nails screeching along a chalk board, expect you couldn't plug your ears. You had to listen, and suffer, gritting your teeth as the noise was so painful it caused you to fall to your knees sucking in and blowing out sharp breaths involuntarily. High pitched scraping driving your nerves over the edge of sanity, praying that it would just stop.

But it never did.

The worst part of it was watching my mom suffer. She never seemed happy, and never truly content with her life. Her overall appearance was different from my friends
moms, thus Mum looked like she held the entire weight of the world on her shoulders.

The taller boy sitting in front of me sat with such intense attitude, dominance and masculinity. I can't image how red my face was,   I was intimidated by him. His body was well built, I scanned down his structured figure and noticed every detail from the strands of bouncy curls that hang from his forehead to the way his hips curve around his skinny jeans. Even his posture confirmed all of my hunches.

I knew I could never have him again.
He was gorgeous and I was scared.
I wanted him.

Staring across the antique coffee table was hard enough when I practically wouldn't hesitate to leap over it, straddle him, and grind on the boy until his eyes rolled back in his skull with pleasure.

I couldn't focus, with the stress from Mum and my father, school and my attraction to the kid I was being paid to babysit, were all eating me alive inside. I felt my heart racing against my chest, sweat breaking under my clothes, and I saw the ripples of tea shatter in my cup as my hands shook.

"It's been a while Tomlinson. I'm Harry, as you already know, and I'm just going to say this; stay out of my way and we'll be cool." The boy spoke in such an astoundingly deep voice. I was too wrapped in his words I never said anything back until his mom re-entered the room, calling "Dinner is on the table!" Harry stood up and made his way towards the door, not even bothering to look back at me. His eyes especially carried this sense of entitlement and anger in them, like the world owes him something. He tugged on a chair at the table and sat down.

I got the sense that he was a spoiled brat who needed to be disciplined now, according to the way his mother described his trouble-seeker rebellious behavior.

"Louis are you okay with fish?" She questioned me.

"Yes ma'am, thank you Mrs. Widdow." I strung out of my jumbled thoughts.

"Please Louis, call me Isabelle." She rested her hand on my shoulder after she placed a fish fillet on my plate.

Harry chuckled, "This is rich, this kid's a goodie two shoes!"

He spoke like he didn't know me.

I could feel my face becoming even more flushed. If that was possible.

"Harry! Apologize now!" Isabelle snapped.
He sighed, like he had done this a thousand times before and muttered "I'm sorry..."
Dragging it out ever so emotionless.
This night was going to be impossible.

"Louis, I'm so glad you decided to stop by, may I ask if you've reached a decision on my offer?" She asked. I could tell by her swiftness she was ready to get this show on the road, hoping her son wouldn't scare me away.

Harry flicked his tongue across his bottom lip, twisting and turning his lip ring out of boredom. I was staring at his lips until I made my way up to his eyes, to see he was staring at me too. His bright green eyes were so easy to lose yourself in. He raised his eyebrows in an utter teasingly way, while biting his bottom lip.
God, the way he did that was so distracting. I felt butterflies flutter in my stomach. I broke eye contact.

"Yes, I do accept your offer. I'll need a key, since I'll be coming from school, and I will be living in with him. Although, I do have a lot of questions." I answered her.

"Oh splendid!" She cried. "Feel free to stay as long as you need, Harry and I are in no hurry."