The Boy in the Bookstore | l.s ✔

One

It was 1st September 2010 and a fifteen year old boy with loosely curly hair and green eyes was getting ready to leave for his first day of school. He was a shy boy, and his summer hadn't been the best, so he was apprehensive yet excited to go back to school. He whispered a small 'goodbye' to his mother and older sister Gemma before picking up his backpack and walking out the front door. It was a cold-ish day, Harry observed, which wasn't normal for the weather in Cheshire around September. Harry noticed everything, but never commented. He always noticed when the font was changed on his teacher's powerpoints, or when his mother swapped the brand of cereal. Some may say that this intense level of observation was a skill, and was the mark of a highly intelligent person. However, to Harry, being observant wasn't a skill, and didn't define his intelligence in the slightest. He was average (at best) in the majority of his subjects, but failing in his maths class. Harry had tried to catch up and remember what he'd done in previous years over the summer holidays, but couldn't recall much. He made a mental note to ask his friend Liam - who was in the top set in maths. 

Things had changed over summer and Harry didn't like it. His mother - Anne, a tall woman with the same eyes as Harry and straight hair instead of Harry's blanket of curls - met someone called Marcus. They had announced to Harry and Gemma that they were serious about the relationship in June, and something about it just didn't sit right with Harry. Last weekend, Marcus announced - rather too suddenly, in Harry's opinion - that he would be moving into their small house. Harry didn't like change, and did not know how to cope with this, but he swallowed his feelings and feigned a happy smile and gave his congratulations to his mother - whomst he loved dearly - and Marcus - who he wasn't too keen on. 

Over the summer, Harry noticed that his mother had become more absent, and he didn't like that .Gemma had also moved out to study arts and literature at the University of Manchester - which was one of Harry's dream courses. This meant it was just him and Anne. Harry knew he should have been excited, but Marcus took up all of Anne's time, and it was hard, admittedly, to feel second best to his mother's boyfriend. He remembered back to being a kid, all those years when it was just Harry, Gemma and Anne. They were a very close, very happy little family. They thought that nothing could split them apart. They didn't keep secrets and Harry loved that. The vulnerability each person showed taught him how to be kind, and gave him the confidence to be himself at all times. Recalling a memory form six years ago, when he was diagnosed with Asperger's OCD and social anxiety, he remembers how his mother held him, and Gemma's reassuring words that he was going to be okay rang throughout his brain. He longed to get that back, desperately longing for the comfort he received in that moment. Accepting that time was - unfortunately - over, he put on his headphones to sooth his racing, intrusive brain and carried on walking to school.

Looking down at the pavement beneath his feet, Harry nearly didn't see his best friend Niall running towards him, ready to engulf him in a hug. It took Harry by surprise and he almost fell. Apologising repeatedly, Niall laughed and assured Harry that it was alright. The thing about Niall was that he liked to talk, a lot. Harry loved him, but sometimes he was too much. Occasionally, Harry would acknowledge what Niall said with a small smile, or buy nodding his curly hair that fell into his eyes. Frantically trying to brush his hair out of his eyes so he could actually see, he carried on half-listening to Niall babble on about his summer in Ireland and nodding occasionally. A few minutes later, they saw Zayn, which was a relief to Harry as Niall's loud talking was beginning to make Harry feel a little anxious and overstimulated. Zayn was only slightly taller than Niall, and had black hair that was styled across his face. He was definitely quieter than Niall, and Harry liked that around him. Quiet people were Harry's people.

Harry, Zayn and Niall walked down the small corridors to their form room, Niall somehow still talking. Zayn gave Harry a sideways look, as if sensing his discomfort at Niall's constant chatter. Zayn then cleared his throat and nodded towards Harry, who was looking as though he was about to cry.