Loving You's The Antidote || l.s. ✓

Chapter 11

Harry knocked on the door nervously, bouncing up and down. He knew as soon as he stepped through that door he would be dead.

The door swung open and his uncle dragged him in. "What the fuck is wrong with you!? You can't just fucking run away! He was offering us good money!"

"He tried to rape me." Harry murmured in a small voice, "I don't want to."

"Well tough, you're going to have people over every week and you won't escape every time." He snarled.

"But I don't want to." He squeaked, "please-"

A slap to the face cut him off, "shut up. You're doing it whether you want to or not."

"B-but-"

"For god's sake! Don't you know when to fucking shut up!?" He kicked at Harry's shin, "if I hear one more word from you you won't get away so easily."

Harry nodded, letting the tears finally spill as he walked upstairs. That wasn't the worst outcome, he had expected to be half dead on the floor by now, but he was terrified. His uncle was right, he wouldn't be able to escape every time. But he could bloody well try.

He willed himself to breathe, not wanting a second panic attack that day. Once the feeling was overcome, he changed into his pyjamas, sitting on his bed and staring at the wall for a while until he felt himself growing sleepy.

//

Shit. He was going to be late. He had been working before school and hadn't realised the time. He rushed to change into his school uniform, grabbing his bag and running out with a quick goodbye to his boss.

He ran the majority of the way, pausing to catch his breath as he arrived. This certainly wasn't good for his asthma, but thank God, when he arrived people were still filing in.

He sat down at his desk, wheezing heavily.

"Out of breath already? What've you been doing?" Louis slipped into his seat next to Harry.

"Was gonna be late so I had to run."

"And why does it matter if you're late? It's not that big of a deal."

"You wouldn't understand."

"Try me." Louis raised his eyebrow, leaning forward. "Scared to get a detention?"

"No, well kinda. My uncle wouldn't be happy..." He said, "and I have anxiety." He added on quietly.

"You have anxiety?"

"Social and general." Harry nodded, fiddling with his hands, "don't like the attention or anything."

"Is that why you freak out when you get picked on in class or whatever?"

"I don't freak out." Harry frowned.

"Yeah, yeah. Sure."

"I don't."

"Mhm, that's why you go all red and shaky and stutter a lot."

"Is it obvious?" Harry panicked.

"I mean, kinda. Yeah." Louis shrugged.

"Fuck." He muttered.

Zayn burst through the door, sitting down opposite them. "Where's the Irish kid?"

"Niall? Don't think he's in. Anyways, why are you so late?"

"Couldn't be bothered to get up and mum made me walk."

"You should've run like Harold here.  He was scared to get a detention so he ran." Louis chuckled, patting Harry's shoulder.

Harry flinched away, freezing as he noticed their stares.