Frame of Hearts - l.s.

Chapter Seven

"Harry!" He catches his arm, Harry groaning as he turns around with his eyes, dull and sleepy, gazing into Liam's. He's concerned. "Mate, what's going on?"

What's going on? Harry just wanted to tell him everything. I haven't got a proper night sleep for the last week, I just don't know what to think. I'm confused, Liam, I need help. Can you help me? I want you to help me. I'm scared, Liam.

"I'm fine." He mutters roughly, snatching his arm away from Liam and walking to his next class uninterrupted.

*****

Zayn elbows Harry's bicep, a large snort escaping his mouth as Harry jerked up with his eyes wide. Ink's on his face and his mouth tasted metallic from the iron in the blood. He's been chewing his cheek in his sleep again.

"H, you need to stay awake," Zayn warns. "It's the third time you've fallen asleep in class."

Harry mumbles, head falling back down to his folded arms on the desk. "I'm just tired. The teacher doesn't care."

"You know, this is in our practice exams next week. If you fail, I'm not going to be the one tutoring you."

"I don't care, Z."

Zayn growls irritably, facing away from Harry and listening to their Biology teacher. Harry falls asleep again, waking to the bells of the school telling him it's finally time to go home.

He doesn't get away with it, though. Zayn pulls him aside just as he reaches his locker. His hand is slapped from the lock and Zayn pops in front of him with his eyebrows furrowed with outrage. Harry's bewildered.

"What's the matter with you?" His voice is a whisper, but his words are stern and considerably frightening. "You've been a mess all week. Ever since that slide show. You're acting weird and you're caring less about yourself!"

"It's none of your business."

"Harry!"

"I don't need to tell you, Zayn." Harry fights back, holding his school books tighter in his arms as Zayn sighs sharply, glaring at Harry and moving away from his locker. He leaves then, Harry putting his books away before catching the yellow bus back home.

*****

Louis notices, too, that Harry's been a little different - especially today.

He's sitting in the corner with a cushion under his bum and The Devil's Own in his hands. He's quiet. Louis doesn't like quiet - especially with Harry. There 're only a few reasons which explain Harry's silence; in most cases it'll be because he's angry at Louis - but that's not very often. Harry's silence is particularly odd.

He watches him for a few more seconds, finishing off the small macaroons Harry's mum made for Louis. Louis questions Harry.

"Hazza, are you angry at me?"

Harry peeks from the book, smiling to Louis. "Why would you think that?"

Under his eyes are bags and his nose is red. Louis could mistake him under the influence of a cold, but Harry's been way too different to be sick. Just Harry's eyes tell a story, his voice too - a little lower than usual. Maybe that's just puberty finally kicking into Harry.

Louis stands from the chair and steps to Harry, flopping onto the floor and crossing his legs. He takes the book in his hands, folding it shut and throwing it to the side. Finally, he grabs Harry's hands, warmly, and holds them in the minor gap between their crossed legs.

"There's something wrong with you."

Harry laughs. "Of course there is. We've discussed this--"

"No, I mean there is something up with you," Louis says. "H, you're being... you're acting different."