The Boy in the Bookstore | l.s ✔

Seven

Holding hands was one of Harry's favourite things to do. He loved feeling like he was attached to something, it made him feel safe. Louis' hands were a lot smaller than his were, but he loved how his slim fingers wrapped around his larger ones.

'Someone's happy.' Louis observed, looking at Harry's wide smile. Harry blushed, wishing that he wasn't so obvious when it came to showing his emotions. He tried to hide it, but when he did, Louis pulled a face at him.

'Keep smiling. You have a lovely smile. Your dimples are adorable.'

'T-thank you, Louis.' Harry said in a small voice, not wanting to accept the compliment. They went back to walking silently, until they reached Harry's small house.

'Goodnight, H.' Louis said, before standing on his tiptoes to hug the younger boy.

'G-goodnight. T-thank you for the t-tea.' Harry whispered. Louis smiled at him - it seemed that Louis was always smiling - and patted his arm.

Harry didn't think that he would miss the presence of the older boy, but he did. He missed the way Louis made him feel like he wasn't strange for being shy, for being quiet. Louis endorsed Harry, letting him just be. He wasn't used to this, even around Anne and Gemma, he felt like he had to hide when he felt scared or anxious. He walked into the kitchen, not realising that Marcus had been standing by the window and had watched Louis and Harry embrace each other. Harry hoped that Anne hadn't told Marcus that Harry was gay, she had no right to. Harry knew Marcus could be homophobic, and had planned to hide that from him for as long as possible.

Harry felt hungry, he hadn't eaten yet. Anne made him macaroni cheese and left it in a small tupperware box. He tipped the content of the box into a pan, and put it onto the stove to heat. He got his books out, ready to make a start on his homework. He didn't want to do any, but he knew he had to. It was around 7:30pm, and all Harry wanted was to eat his dinner and watch a movie. He had English due in the day after, but decided to get it out of the way. He had to write an essay about identity - a pretty heavy topic, as he didn't know who he was yet. Harry had lost and found himself so many times, he didn't know who he was yet. (Well, he knew he was gay, but he wasn't ready to write that down where people could read it.)

What is Identity? He started to write, and he decided to define what identity meant to him.

Identity is something that brings people together, so sets them apart. It's a label you can choose to apply to yourself so the people around you can make a judgement about you before getting to know you. I believe that this is harmful, as many people can be prejudiced towards groups of people that they may not like. A person can't change the way they were born or who they were born as, so they shouldn't have to struggle because someone cannot accept them for who they are. Harry's flow of ideas was abruptly stopped when he heard the smoke alarm. He had been concentrating on his essay too much and he had forgotten about the macaroni cheese he was cooking. He ran over to the stove and took the - now severely burnt - meal off the stove. He scraped it into the bin and he felt incredibly frustrated. Why couldn't something go right for him, just once? The loud noise had also alerted Marcus. Harry heard his footsteps and froze. All this time, he had thought he was in the house alone. Angry Marcus was the last thing Harry needed right now, he still felt fragile from his flashback earlier.

'S-s-sorry.' Harry said, feeling tears sprang to his eyes, he hated disappointing people.

'Oh, so now you're gonna cry about it? Pathetic. Can't you handle people yelling at you?' Marcus continued to taunt Harry, calling him names like 'weak' and fragile'.Every insult Marcus shot towards him felt like a punch. Harry knew what Marcus was saying was true, but it really hurt hearing them from another person.