My fav Larry Stylinson stories

Stay (Mature)

Harry slumped in his seat as the principal's eyes questioning eyes examined him. He looked down at his shirt, noticing that it was already stained with blood. Amidst wondering how much his mother was going to yell at him for the blemish, those thoughts were stopped by the realization that she wouldn't even be at home to notice. Even when she yelled at him, Harry couldn't help but be grateful in those moments, because she was actually there. It seemed like no one stayed anymore. Everyone was occupied with something, or someone, better.

"Well? Are you going to tell me who did this to you, Harry?" The principal demanded.

Harry's eyes narrowed and he used the back of his hand to wipe a drop of blood that spilled from the corner of his mouth. The principal could only be seen through tear-blurred vision now, and for Harry, that didn't make much of a difference. He had learned to see the world through a haze, rarely allowing himself close enough to anyone, fearful that he would be disgusted by what he saw if I dared to come too close. He would never admit that he feared they would feel the same way about him.

"Can't," he whispered. He bit his lip, drawing out more blood. The pain all blended together now, and it was impossible to pinpoint all the sources of the aching. Harry's body just reverberated with soreness, but he sat there and acted like nothing was wrong.

A recollection of the most recent attack took him by surprise, and within moments, Harry was thrust back into his own, personal Hell. He felt everything again. His body gave an involuntary jerk as he pictured himself getting thrown against the lockers, the back of his head getting the brunt of the punishment. His hand blindly reached up to sooth the lump that had since formed there. That very hand flew to Harry's stomach as he saw himself getting punched and kicked.

"Harry. Help me help you. If we work side-by-side on this, we'll be closer to putting an end to this. Doesn't that sound better? Your refusal to speak is almost like you're giving those boys permission to abuse you." The principal was stern, but there was sympathy in his voice. Harry picked up on it, because it wasn't something he heard very often.

"I deserve it, don't I?" Harry challenged. Without another word, he got up to leave. He knew he wouldn't be stopped-this is how it happened every day. A more-than-obvious limp carried him out of the office and into the street, and Harry walked home.

He rarely tried to even speak to his sister, but Harry somehow found the courage to try. All he needed was for someone to take care of him, in whatever sense they could. For Gemma, that could even mean a simple, listening ear...Harry would cling to anything. He had heard somewhere that "blood was thicker than water," and admittedly he had no idea what it truly meant. He could only hope that Gemma did, and that she was willing to live by it.

He changed his shirt and washed his face before attempting to go to her room. He didn't want to scare her. Harry was embarrassed at how nervous he was getting. It's a terrifying thing to ask for help, and Harry felt that fear in his bones. Choosing to be alone and being lonely were two different things, and Harry felt that the walls would crumble around him when people discovered that he was rarely ever allowed the first option. He swallowed back his inhibitions and went to his sisters room, hoping she would understand how tired he was of being friendless. Being that the door was slightly ajar, he looked into the small window of space before deciding whether or not he would enter.

"Get out, you perv!" Gemma yelled at the pair of eyes peeking through the crack. She scowled at her little brother as he stood frozen in his place, heart racing after getting caught. Her friend was in the middle of changing clothes, and Gemma rushed to help her cover up and to protect her from what she thought to be her brother's prying eyes.

"You're getting too old for this, Harry!" she said. After a moment of looking at him, her harsh eyes seemed to soften. "If you leave now, I won't tell Mum. I promise, just go."