Where You're Meant To Be- Larry Stylinson

Chapter One

GUYS ITS BEEN SO LONG THIS IS CHAPTER ONE OK

the next one will be from harrys pov i guess

ugh 

its rly awko and not the best tbh but deal i guess

i love you guyss:))))))))) xooxoxoxxooxooox forgive me??

let me know what you all think!! comment and vote!!!

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I examined my face in the mirror. My too-long too-black hair. The dark circles that had basically engraved themselves under my eyes. The stubble of now oddly blackened facial hair that I'd been refusing to shave (because nothing really mattered enough anymore to take a blade to my cheeks, if I was being honest). Feeling my collarbone, the rigid bump close to my shoulder from where I'd apparently fractured it when I jumped, I let out a shaky sigh. Who was I looking at? I had asked myself that question every time my eyes wandered onto a reflective surface. Under the face of a stranger, was I still there? Had my dreams, my love, my soul made it through all of the changes? 

Or was I, then and forever, Shane Jeffery?

My phone buzzed next to the sink, rattling the cheap ceramic soap holder that Sara bought me as a house warming gift. I tore my eyes away from my dreadful appearance to check the message.

HEY, BUDDY. I NEED TO TALK TO YOU ALONE. WITHOUT SARA. I WAS THINKING BEERS TONIGHT, YOU READY NOW?

- Brad

I thought back to the first time Brad had invited me for beers. The first night I had arrived here. It was a wonder he didn't throw me to the curb.

~

We had gone downtown (far away, thankfully, from the uptight suburbs) to a small dim bar and sat side by side on a couple of bar stools and were quiet for a really long time, just staring at the football game that was playing on a television but not really watching. And we sipped our beers, but weren't really drinking.

I remember how stuffy the air had felt, as if there was dust or flour floating around us even though there wasn't. And I remember hiding my face from everyone, forgetting that they wouldn't recognize me but would instead see me as just another guy sitting with, perhaps, a best friend at a bar.

Brad had shocked me when he turned to me, surprisingly sympathetic, and asked me if I was okay. I hadn't felt it when I started crying, but apparently I had been for a while. Brad let me breakdown beside him, offering me a few pats on the shoulder and a quiet "when you're ready" and even on that day, the day my life was supposed to start over for the worst (whether I bloody liked it or not), I appreciated him and I wanted to thank him. 

But when I tried, he shut me up and told me to tell him all about Harry. I supposed Brad was informed about some things regarding my apparent death, but I wasn't sure if they had gone into details with him. But when he said "Talk about it," with lowered eyebrows and the corners of his mouth turned down, I knew that he knew everything. And I could tell he wanted the truth, instead of a morphed, melted version that Management had probably fed him.

So I gave him the truth, and he sat with me and listened to the truth until I had told all there was of the truth. I had never cried in front of a stranger before. And that night I spilled my heart out to one.