you put the O in disOrder ➢ (l.s)

O.23

(LOUIS'S POV)

I know he looks displeased with the whole introduction...

But that's normal isn't it?

Zayn is quite a weird lad, always smoking something of a substance, stains on his shirt, and honestly, he really does like fucking all types of people. No matter what gender, shape, size, or color.

But at least it's not home with my mum.

Zayn won't criticize me for loving Harry, and he won't look at me in disgust every morning.

Well, unless I smell bad maybe.

But other than that I should be fine.

I grin at Harry, walking him in and showing him around.

It's really small... But at least there's two bedrooms.

"I've only got a little more things to unpack, then I should be all set," I say, and I see Harry soften when Zayn goes into the kitchen.

Most likely to eat spaghetti-o's or something.

Whatever stoners eat in their daily life.

Before I know it, Harry gives me a small peck, looking at me with those gorgeous green eyes I can't resist.

They send flashes through me, and soon my eyes are half lidded, my lips parted and I'm heavily stuck in Harry's orbit.

He puts his hands on my chest, smiling sweetly, until he nudges me in the room, shutting the door behind us.

"Harry what're you-" But before I can even finish he's cutting me off when he pushes me on the bed, crawling to sit in my lap.

I laugh lightly, holding him and carding one of my hands through his thick chocolaty curls.

God, words can't even describe how much I love my disordered boy.

Especially when he looks so absolutely adorable perched on my lap.

"Ask me questions..." Harry insists, resting his head on my shoulder, his arms loosely wrapped around my torso. "For the project..."

I hum softly in thought, trying to remember the list of them in my head.

I want to ask him how he does it everyday.

I want to ask how can he handle being so strong and courageous.

How many people do you know that'd put up with a disorder like this?

Anybody?

Because I don't, but Harry can.

He wakes up every morning, even though I know how hard it is for him to do that sometimes.

I love him.

And I wan't to ask if he loves me, but that's a stupid question.

I already know he does.

"People bully you at school for your disorder... What are some of the things they say?"

I know it's a sensitive topic, and I instantly regret bringing it up until he takes my hand in his, and smiles, looking up at me.

"They say everything that I'd rather not hear," he says, giggling lightly and tucking his head under my chin softly.

"Bambiii..." I trail on fondly, expecting a real answer.

Because I want to show the school how strong Harry is.

His disorder is not a joke. It's not a punchline. And I will make sure every last person knows that before I graduate.

"I need real answers babe..." I say, knowing he'd rather not give me full details about his humiliation.