shattered skies ➸ larry stylinson

chapter four

A/N: Well hi! This is Kayla, and I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! While you're here, follow me and Monique, it would be wonderful. Maybe even read our stories, hers are quite perfect.

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"It's not working!" Harry complains, throwing his fork down on his plate with a groan. The lights around him are too damn dim and it smells like grease and fish and the color blue he is looking at isn't the right one.

"You've only talked to him twice, it's not like he's just gonna tell you all his problems, dude. Doesn't work that way."

Harry sends him an evil glare across the table. "I know that, Niall. But he doesn't stop fucking flirting with me, and I'm just trying to help him. It's very distracting."

Niall is silent for a minute, chewing on his fries thoughtfully. His dark blonde hair is almost brown; Harry remembers when it was bleached blonde when they were in high school. High school seems like a million years ago. He kind of misses it, misses the carefree attitude that went along with it.

"You just need to ignore the comments. Focus on what he's saying behind the facade."

Harry turns to look at the other boy who is sitting in the booth with them. His hair is shaggy and swiped across his forehead, very different from the way he used to look. Being an English professor changes things.

"No, Zayn, that is the stupidest crap I've ever heard." Niall rolls his eyes, looking to Harry for clarification. Harry just looks away. 

Why does Louis have to be so damn complicated? Harry is usually a kind person, he is, and now he just wants to go home and bathe in lukewarm water and try to figure out how he could have possibly chosen such an awful career and why he's so fucking mad at everybody, even his best friends.

So he decides to put a few notes on the table, waving a curt goodbye to his two confused friends, and stalks out of the restaurant. The air changes dramatically; it is cooler and way less stuffy. He breathes it in, and the sounds of city fill his ears in an oddly peaceful way. Ever since Harry was little, he had wanted to live in a big city, with tall skylines and sparkling lights everywhere.

But now, he is too focused on this one certain person and he really wishes he wasn't and the walk to his house is too long and everything just sucks.

It is very late by the time he takes the satchel off of his shoulder and tosses it on the couch, before shaking out his hair quickly. His apartment smells like home and he didn't realise how much he missed it until now. Harry brushes his teeth quickly, staring at his weary, tired eyes in the mirror. These therapy sessions are already starting to take a toll on him. Every single thing he sees, even a fucking chair, reminds him of this one boy with this fuzzy brown hair and these really pretty blue eyes but he's so fucking mean and cocky and Harry needs to sleep.

But then again, tomorrow he's going to have to drive down to the office and have another session and he wants to ignore the part of his heart that skips with excitement but it's kind of hard especially since he's smiling too, he knows because he can see it in the mirror.

His mind is hurting from all of this thinking and he opts on just turning on his fan really loud to drown it out. Harry pulls off his shirt and tugs on some soft pants and it feels really kind of nice. Then he snuggles under his blankets, feeling warmth seep through his body in a comforting way.

And just as he's about to fall asleep, he hears this awful scratching noise from somewhere in the house and it hurts his ears. With a sigh, he throws the covers off of him, navigating his way through the cluttered room of his studio apartment to the door. The scratching doesn't cease to stop, and he isn't scared. No, not at all. Really.