Timeless - A Larry Stylinson FanFiction

Chapter 24

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He felt the sharp tug on the sleeve of his springtime jacket, which seemed to pull him right back through the hole Harry felt himself slipping through every afternoon. Endless afternoons, escaping the confines of the dreary school building to stride two steps for Niall’s every one in great hopes of snatching up one more glimpse of Louis Tomlinson. Some days, when graced with good fortune, he was able to soak in a full-face view. The eyes, one, two, shone ever so alluringly, but looked as if to be painted over in wax. Glazed, were his eyes, the tightly locked latches on the window to the soul. The question continually pestered him, how would he unlock them?

“Tell me you’re not thinking about buying any liquor now,” he heard Niall chime in with another tug of his sleeve. He tilted his chin up, tipping his head from one side to another hoping to meet perspectives with Harry, to configure what in the name of the Lord he was staring at.

“Liquor?” Harry dragged his eyes away. He seemed to be sent back in time, his saliva nearly mimicking the harsh taste of gin sliding down his tongue. He couldn’t control the prickle of anger across his skin. Louis Tomlinson was a sin, and he’d dragged Harry down to hell with him. There was no hope of him getting out now, he knew, and now the most miniscule of details ridden in Harry’s daily life would bring him back in waves.

“Not a chance,” he said, his tone seeming to fall flat. Niall allowed the brief conversation to fade back in time as the two kept up a steady pace down the sidewalk, dodging carts of fresh produce and women pushing prams.

The two split at a fork in the road, where Niall went on his way down his street and Harry backtracked for a minute or two before rediscovering his street of residence.

The England weather slowly thawed from post-winter dullness to a newly refreshed springtime, with budding flowers and budding romances alike.

Harry could smell it in the air; a silk vapor the color of fresh roses tinged the atmosphere and brought warmth into the hearts of those left without companions. A new dawn meant a new beginning, a new warmth was a season to spark a lonely man’s intimacy.

After hearing from Niall of the party planned for the ever nearing nightfall, Harry knew it was true after all.

Florence’s elder sister Marilyn had planned a party of extraordinary proportions, one of which she has fooled the guardians of the young adults into believing was a dinner party for the youth to learn their manners. Phooey on them for being so gullible as to fall short of detecting such a ridiculous fib, but it was wonderful to know the party would go on unnoticed.

The idea was simple, and even though Harry knew little to nothing of the happenings of the average party, he knew the basics of this event. One threw a party for only one reason. They may form a network of excuses for their desire to throw such a bash, but in the end it came down to the uncontrollable urges the host felt deep within their young selves. They yearned for another, and strived for an event that would grant them their wishes.

Marilyn’s parties were gatherings full of food, music and enough merriment to stay drunk on for the entire night, but there was nothing more intoxicating than the main event of the parties. The convergence of two people, mostly strangers but often times not, in the act of tenderly hugging or kissing and all the rebellious acts of intimacy that were sure to follow. Such parties were frowned upon by those years Harry’s senior, and were often shut down by law enforcement officers. Once the damned officers caught sight of a couple of pairings canoodling in a deserted graveyard and screamed their heads off at the kids. Luckily this year’s party was to take place in a much more private area. Old Meadow Pond.