Timeless - A Larry Stylinson FanFiction

Chapter 22

“Having a bull session in the back of my class.”

Harry could just about see the droplets of spit propelled by hard-spoken words, landing on the desk in the very back of the room, occupied by just about the most hard-boiled kid in the class.

“I am having none of this. None of it!” And with that, a scrawny, sandy-haired boy and a black-haired boy three times his size were nearly yanked up by their trousers and booted out of the class. Headmaster Nitchman had no time for petty gossip.

Fluky, the kids called the lean and unbelievably tall head master of Wiltshire School for Boys. A bit of an odd nut, he was, with a thick mustache curling to the sides of his lips and glasses rimmed in thick brown, he tended to spit when he spoke and strode with his feet out before his torso. The boys, who most certainly will be boys, would go to all lengths necessary to expose the flustered red cheeks and prominent neck vein that came with angering Headmaster Nitchman.

Harry was rather content with his schoolings and fond of the daily classes he had no choice but to endure. To him, England’s strict yet impeccably well-polished boys education system was all but a burden.

But truth be told, the most favorable part of the day for Harry was when the final bell chimed, he simply couldn’t deny the bittersweet relief that he had been once again granted his social freedoms.

Every day was a routine for the young men, but Harry carried that routine out of the school’s walls. He would navigate a path through pockets of young girls, awaiting the final bell if not more eagerly than the boys, to find the sprightly lad always present in the very same spot. Niall Horan, not only a remarkably loyal friend, but a brave one at that. Immigrating to England from Ireland after the tragic death of his older brother, his parents had quickly picked up jobs to send their now only child to get a proper education. It certainly was nothing of an issue to befriend this Irish lad. He could talk you up for hours, and the crooked grin he sported so proudly was refreshing at times.

Niall tended to be one of the first out of the sturdy, brick building. Weaving between girls who were leaving their school just next door with armsful of school books for their male counterparts to carry, Niall found Harry’s side. Before Harry could even greet him, Niall began chattering away, voice clad in his thick, Irish accent.

“You’ve got a look to you today, Mister Styles, don’t you? What’s rattling your brain?” he said with a giddy chuckle as the two took off on foot down the path from the school grounds, leading them out to the main road.

All that day, Harry wore an expression of slight distress, posture seemingly on-edge, as if everyone surrounding him was aware of the happenings of that day previous. His long fingers were frequently tapping, his feet crossed and uncrossed minute by minute. He artfully avoided responding to the ever-pestering Niall.

“Gracious, I’ll be having history of modern religion examinations tomorrow and I’m most certainly in for it, unless of course-” To Harry’s misfortune, Niall was not having his evasiveness.

“Harry,” Niall tried breaking his ongoing sentence.

“Unless of course I double my revising this late afternoon. At best I’d manage a pleasing mark, no?”

“Harry,”

Harry was fresh out of things to run on about. What else did he say? What else was plausible to shield himself from Niall’s endless string of questions? He ceased his rapid thoughts and acted as if he were deeply intrigued with the bustle of the small downtown of Huntingdon, a sight he’d seen what seemed like thousands of times already. Nothing new struck him.

“You’ve not much for art of avoidance,” Niall said with a grin. “Nor subtlety. What’s got you in a twist now, Harold?”

Harold. That was nearly the fourth time he’d been called that since the previous evening, and it was never getting any easier to hear. Harry could almost detect the loud high pitched voice of the man who poisoned his name ringing through his brain, but as unpleasant as it sounds it was soothing. A gentle fairy like voice was always just around the corner to calm his nerves, a velvety undertone to relax his mind. But it shouldn’t be that way. He shouldn’t find comfort in another man, especially one with whom he had sinned. Harry knew that he shouldn’t find solace in Louis Tomlinson, and that is what upset him the most.

“Niall I just….” Harry shook his head to free his eyes from behind his hair that had a mind of it’s own, and found himself gazing at the door left ajar at the liquor store. “I, uh..” he continued, tightening his grip on his shoulder bag. “I need a minute.”

“At the liquor store?” Niall called out to Harry as he ran. “What in God’s name could you do in a liquor store?!”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” Harry returned, quickening his pace now that Niall had given up on him and had begun to walk himself home.

It couldn’t be, Harry thought to himself, heart rate accelerating as his feet took him closer to the door of the liquor store.

But it was, of that Harry Styles was sure.

Of other things, though? Not so much.

A/N: Sorry this chapter is so short! We'll have the next one up as soon as it's finished! x

-Megan and Peyton