Burning Skies » larry

Chapter 1

Darkening skies, steely eyes

In this world I am a shadow

Fiery cries, a slice of vice

In the blinding dark you are aglow

× × ×

Harry Styles had always dreamed of being ordinary.

Standing in front of a mirror wearing a tight pair of jeans and a band t-shirt under a jean jacket, Harry thought he was doing a decent job of pretending to be part of the mundane world.

He shook his curls and tossed them to the side, regarding his reflection. He wondered what people saw when they looked at him. More often than not, Harry always felt like every stranger he walked past saw straight through him. Saw right through his mask, his faćade. But right now, staring at his lanky form, big unsure eyes and red-bitten lips, he thought he looked nonthreatening enough.

Harry picked up the pair of black cotton gloves atop his desk and pulled it over his hands, watching the cloth swallow his pale, snow-white fingers. He turned back to the mirror and frowned at his face—he looked half dead. He'd managed to get his lips slightly redder than its usual dull pink tint by biting it and pinching his lips with his fingers for nearly half an hour, but he'd forgotten about his ghostly white face. An ordinary person would have slightly rosy cheeks, even the faintest flush from the heat. Harry looked as pale as paper.

He startled when the door to his room swung open, slamming into the wall beside it. Harry was still tense when Niall appeared in his line of vision, walking toward him.

"Are you ready to go, H?" Niall asked, passing by him to rummage through one of the drawers. "Do you have extra socks, by any chance? I swear I put mine in the laundry last night. That thing eats up the socks, I'm telling you."

Harry relaxed a bit, playing with his fingers as he walked toward the drawer. Niall had already completely ruined his perfectly-folded and organized clothes. He'd have to fix it again later.

"Here you go," Harry said quietly, offering him a pair of black socks.

Niall beamed, quickly snatching it from his hands and ruffling his hair, causing Harry to flinch slightly. "Thanks. Meet me in the kitchen when you're done, I think I might heat up some leftover pizza. Want some?"

Harry shook his head. Leave it to Niall to have pizza for breakfast. "No, thank you."

Niall thanked him again before leaving his room and closing the door behind him. Harry let out a breath, finally letting himself fully relax. He walked to his bed where he'd tossed his backpack and double-checked his things. Last week, Niall had dragged him to a store to buy some school supplies. Harry checked if he had already put his binders and pens (he bought extra pens in case someone needed an extra one), a water bottle, a small foldable umbrella. He ignored his steadily thumping heart in favor of checking his reflection again, suddenly doubting if the cotton gloves were a good idea. Would he just be drawing more attention to himself? What kind of nineteen-year-old boy wore gloves in this heat? He didn't think he pulled it off well enough to pretend it was a fashion statement either.

"Harry!"

Harry decided to leave the gloves on, sighing quietly as he slung his backpack over his shoulder. He took a deep breath before leaving his room, giving it one final, longing look before shutting the door.