Scars [Book 1]✅

Four

"You lied," Louis smirked, smiling down at the boy who sat curled up in a book. Harry's head shot up, and his eyes grew wide.

"W-What?"

"You said you were going to the office," Louis said, sitting down across from him, "I'm pretty sure the office is across the building," he pointed out.

"I-I'm sorry, I-I j-jus-"

"Hey it's fine, I'm just kidding with you. Don't worry," he smiled, and Harry straightened his posture a bit.

"O-Okay."

Louis leaned his elbows on the table, "How come you came here by yourself? I mean, besides the fact that you're new," he asked, tilting his head.

Because you don't have friends

Nobody wants to be your friend

Harry looked down, not sure of what to say. And he wanted to yell at the voice, but he knew it was partially correct. "P-People don't like m-me. Anywhere I g-go. I-I don't know why. B-But I'm always m-made f-fun of for b-being I-... never mind," he stopped himself, not wanting to tell too much to the boy that he barely knew.

"Being what? You can trust me, I don't judge people," Louis smiled, but Harry still stayed quiet. "How about I say something about myself, and then you say something?"

"O-Okay."

"Cool. Uh, I like the color blue."

"I-I like r-red."

"I have six siblings. Five of which are girls."

"I only h-have one."

"Lucky, you have no idea how many tea parties I've gotten invited to in my life. Now I have to fight the urge to put my pinky out when I drink real tea," Louis joked. And for the first time in a while, Harry laughed. And actually laughed, dimples and all.

"I-If it makes you feel b-better, my older s-sister used to braid m-my hair when we hung out," Harry shrugged.

That's because you're a girl, you queer

"No," Harry muttered, arguing with the voice. Though thankfully to Harry, Louis didn't hear it.

"I'm not surprised," he paused, "I mean, your hair is curly and long. Why not?" he shrugged, "but I like it. It's cute."

Harry blushed, "Uh, th-thanks. I uh, l-like your hair t-too I-I guess."

This made Louis laugh, "Just because I compliment your hair doesn't mean you have to compliment mine. But thank you anyway," he nodded, drumming his fingers against the table, "what do you do in your free time?" Louis asked.

Besides harm yourself and cry yourself to sleep? Nothing, because you're useless

"Uh, n-not much, I-I sometimes d-draw or- well I used to play g-guitar, or r-read," he grasped his hands together, ignoring the itchy feeling on his arms and the urge to listen to the voice again.

"Oh, artsy, I see. To be honest, I can't even draw a stick person without messing it up, but I play footie and do a bit of piano. That and I sing a bit. Not that I'm good. I just like it," he sighed, frowning when he heard the bell go off. Harry jumped at the loud sound, gathering his books. He pushed his chair in neatly and waited by the doors, watching the sea of students pass.

"You staying?" Louis raised his eyebrows.

"T-There's too m-much p-people. I'm not g-good with cont-tact," he muttered, feeling embarrassed.

"Okay, I'll wait with you."

"Y-You don't h-have t-to."

"I know. But I want to."

He wants to.