Saving the Hero (a One Direction fanfic)

Ready

Harry’s point of view

“Where on earth did I put that bloody book,” I mumble to myself as I line my finger across the spines of my books standing on the shelf of my room.

I was really bored. Greg had to do college stuff and Gemma was out. I had nothing to do and since I met Matt yesterday, I’ve been wanting to catch up but then he didn’t give me a way to contact him so I decided to just relax and read a book. I was looking for one of my books by Aldous Huxley but the damned thing was nowhere be found.

I start to rummage through the box beside the shelf but still it was nowhere to be found. Sighing, I stand back up straight and walk across my room to my closet and open it up, tugging on the string to turn on the light bulb inside. I hadn’t opened this closet since I came home. It contained my old school stuff like my soccer ball, school books, papers, random toys and such. My eyes scan it from top to bottom and I spot a really worn out cardboard box I didn’t recognize. Well, it was an old book from my father so maybe I had stuffed it in there. I reach up for it and stick my fingers between the box and its lid and feel around inside. My fingers come in contact with a spine of a book and so I pull it out then with both hands, I tug the box out but it was a lot heavier than I expected which caused it to tumble on the floor, its contents spilling out.

“Damn,” I curse. I was never the type to swear a lot but recently I just felt so frustrated.

I crouch down and start picking up random key chains that appeared to be from different places until I notice the torn up pieces of paper and the book I was looking for that was overturned, “Brave New World”. I cross my legs and sit down on the floor, picking up the book and see more slips of paper fall out and then I realize that some of them weren’t just pieces of paper, some were photos. And on the paper were letters.

I grab a couple of strips and look at them. I recognize the side of my face and…the girl in my dreams. Frantically I pick up another strip and then I recognize one of Matt’s favorite t-shirts back in the day. What in the world? I look at the back of the photos and see yellow-ish squares on the corners, indicating that I had stuck scotch tape on them. My eyes flit over to one of the walls of my room, where the same identical yellow-ish squares were all over. Had I taken these off my wall and tore them up?

My breath hitches, my heart pounding and I stop myself from thinking any further of it. I hurriedly gather all the pieces of paper, strips of pictures and even the book then dump them all back in the box.

“Harry?” I hear from the doorway and I turn around, alert.

“Louis?” I name as I see him standing there. What was he doing here?

“Zayn asked me if I could come check on how you’re doing. What’re you up to mate?” he asks me, eyeing the contents of the box and remaining torn up pieces of pictures and paper on the floor I had yet to pick up.

“Nothing,” I mumble, continuing to put them all back in. I couldn’t remember.

“That’s not nothing,” Louis accuses, coming beside me, crouching down and picking up one of the torn photos. “What are these? Were these yours?”

“I don’t know,” I reply curtly, grabbing them from his hands.

“These are parts of the things you can’t remember, aren’t they?” Louis says. 

“They’re not.”

“Well you’re being awfully secretive about it,” he says then grabs the box from my hands and tug it towards him.

“Louis, don’t!” I tell him but I was too late. His fingers were rummaging inside and then he pulls out one hand, holding out an old blackberry.