Good Morals [Larry Stylinson]

Ch. Fifteen | Just Leave Me Alone

[E: ✔]

"You," Mr. Tomlinson pointed his finger at Amy, scowling, "You need to watch your behavior, young lady. Your language, too," he dropped his hand. "What is this fight about," he glanced between Harry and Amy. "Are you harassing this boy for the same reasons as you were last time, because I will not hesitate to contact the head again about this inappropriate behavior," Mr. Tomlinson glared daggers into Amy, and Harry started to take small steps back. "Take off, now," Harry's teacher nodded Amy away, who scoffed and turned around, spitting at the curly-haired boy, who recoiled. Harry was in quite a bit of pain for obvious reasons. He was (bitch) slapped, winded and grabbed and pushed, he just wanted to go home. "Mr. Styles, what was going on here that just so happened to upset that girl?"

"Are you serious? She was bitching-"

"Language!"

"Shut up, then, if you're going to interrupt I'll just go! It's none of your business, and you should know why she's mad! Because, apparently, you thought it would be okay to tell the principal about the other day. Why? Why would you even think that that's okay?"

"It's not okay for her to bully you like that, and especially as your teacher, it's my obligation to make sure things like that don't happen."

"Bullshit."

"Mr. Styles, language," Louis was growing impatient. Harry rolled his eyes and picked up his back pack that was on the ground, not bothering to put it on properly. "Whatever. See you next class, Mr. Tomlinson," Harry muttered, annoyed. He spun around and marched away from the man, footsteps heavy against the pavement as he walks briskly to his car. He sits down, practically throwing his bag onto the passenger seat. Before starting the car and driving home.

This was happening all while Louis sat in his own car, slumped in his seat. He chewed on his bottom lip, thinking about everything that happened today. It was chaotic. Adam was back home, so it's not like he could go to him. Eleanor seemed upset.

God, he wished he could talk to his mum. But look where he is now with that, she's dead. Lottie hasn't called, nobody at all has called him. He shook his head and sat up to drive home. When he finally got there (the road he usually took was under construction. How great) he set all of his things on his kitchen counter before walking over to a cupboard, opening it and grabbing a mug. He grabbed his kettle and put some water in it, turning on the stove and setting the kettle on top of it. He walks over to a small jar filled with tea bags, grabbing one (he didn't look) and leaning against the counter. As he usually did, he zoned out, starting to think about things. Eleanor was right. Louis had been worrying about Harry's private a little too much. He shouldn't even be partially concerned, let alone think about it as much as he had been. That stress, now on top of his mother's death and how he needs to start planning for her funeral, he couldn't help but be tempted to drive out to the bar again. He restrained himself, though, only because he couldn't go to work with a hangover. He knew that was wrong, not only because he could very easily get fired, of course, but also because he wasn't sure what he would do if he got hammered again. Eleanor was already pissed at him, for reasons he really wasn't sure of. How was he supposed to know his mum was going to die so suddenly and none of his sisters would contact him about it? He had a job, which he was trying to focus on. It didn't matter at the moment. How was he supposed to focus when he had a funeral to plan?

He was snapped out of his troubled thoughts by a loud, high-pitched whistle practically piercing his ears. He jumped, his heart racing. He didn't realize how lost he got. He grunted, walking quickly to the steaming kettle. He turned off the stove and waited a few minutes, putting his tea bag into his mug, and when the kettle wasn't hot anymore he poured the water into the mug as well. He leaned against the counted, holding his mug and taking a long sip of tea. Despite the warmth that ran through his body, he couldn't get away from how tense he was.

He truly hated his life right now.

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"Alright, Haz. Tell me everything,"the blonde said over the phone. Harry sighed, leaning his head against the headboard of his bed. "Well," he closed his eyes and bit his lip. "Well, side note, after school when you went to your car, before I could even step foot on the lot, Amy started harassing me, and it got physical. Obviously I didn't fight back physically. You know I hate violence."

"I'm gonna kick her ass, Harry, what was it this time," Niall said, clearly upset. "That's the other thing, Niall. Apparently Mr. Tomlinson went to the head's office and reported Amy for the other day. She thought I was the one who did it. Then somehow Mr. Tomlinson saw her and I, and yelled at the both of us and when he let Amy go he went off on me with shit like "what happened". Amy was harassing me because of something he did, Ni!"

"Wow. Haz, I don't know what to say," Niall admitted quietly. The call remained quiet for a while. "Harry, what about in English, that thing you were gonna tell me. Something about Mr. Tomlinson at the club. When he blocked you in the restroom and all that. You still want to talk about it? What did he do? He didn't hurt you or-"

"God, no, Niall. Even if he's a jerk to me he's nice, alright? He's obviously got something out for me, no doubt, but he's not a complete asshole," Harry thought out loud. "Right, yeah," Niall adjusted his phone so he could set it on his bed, pressing the speaker phone. "So how's your script or...whatever it's called...going for drama? You wanna hear mine," Niall asked enthusiastically, making Harry smile. Niall always knew how to (rightfully and easily) change the subject, and always seemed to brighten the mood in an instant. Harry appreciated it immensely, he really did. He needed it sometimes.

"Um, mine's going alright. Yeah, I'll listen to what you've got."

"Don't steal my ideas though, Harry, I know I'm a master at writing."

"Whatever you say, mate," Harry laughed. The rest of the night went fairly smoothly, despite something scratching at the back of his head. It was unpleasant to say the least. He wasn't aware of what it was, there was nothing he could specifically pinpoint about it, about who or what was causing it. It just left his stomach uneasy. He knew it had to have something to do with going to school, right? It got worse when he went. It was an uneasy feeling like there were butterflies fluttering in his stomach but the butterflies were trying to get out in a nasty spew. He tossed and turned for a few minutes before finally nodding off.

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Hope everyone is well! <3

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BenzoClownLarry