Bad For You (Larry Stylinson) [HIATUS TIL SUMMER]

Louis thought he could handle it all. After being bullied both physically and verbally throughout most of his school years, he believed his experiences had made him stronger. When he decided to pursue teaching, everyone was shocked. They all questioned why he would want to spend most of his hours in a place similar to the one that held some of his worst memories. Memories of being beaten until he was left broken and bleeding on the floor, of being verbally assaulted until hot tears streamed down his face. But he had his reasons. He wanted to be that shoulder for his students to lean on. One student in particular caught his eye. Rough-and-tumble school bad-boy Harry Styles. The boy refused any help from the start, but will Louis be able to break down the walls Harry has worked so hard to build up?

*Viewer discretion is advised* if you're uncomfortable with strong language, self harm, or sexual content, this story probably isn't for you.

YES THIS IS A LARRY FANFIC. Happy reading xx


2. Welcome Back

Chapter 2: Welcome Back

The sight of the long, narrow hallway flooded with students brought Louis back to his own school days. He remembered standing by his locker and chatting with friends, the awkward conversations with pretty girls, but most of all, he remembered the bullying that had kept him in a constant panic. The memories sent a chill down Louis' spine. But that was all a thing of the past, Louis thought to himself. He was a changed man and he was stronger because of what he had been through. And with that little internal pep talk, Louis slipped his slender hand into the back pocket of his dark jeans and pulled out a slightly crinkled piece of paper. He unfolded it quickly and glanced down at the jumble of writing it contained.

Louis drowned out the excited first-day chatter of the students fresh off summer holiday as he skimmed the page, looking for his room assignment. Since he was just starting out, he was to be assigned to another teacher's room to observe and learn techniques before being thrown into a classroom alone. He stepped into a side hallway as he scanned the words before finding what he was looking for.

Room 102D, Ms. Walker.

He had also been given a map of the school, which at the moment, he was quite thankful for. He smoothed the creases from the small black and white print-out and brushed his finger over the page until it landed on D-wing. He easily spotted the star the headmaster had been kind enough to place over room 102D and began the short walk there.

He could feel the eyes of several students on his back as he made his way to his room assignment.

'It's just because you're an unfamiliar face here,' he reassured himself. Louis still felt quite uncomfortable when attention was placed on him, a fact which he attributed to being bullied. Back then all he had wanted to do was remain unnoticed. Although he was much more confident in himself now, he still hated the feeling when all eyes were on him. It made him feel as if something were wrong with him. Of course, being a teacher, he'd have to get used to it, Louis supposed.

Louis easily found his way to Ms. Walker's room thanks to the map and strolled in, tightly clutching his briefcase for moral support.

The classroom looked like any other English classroom Louis had seen. Grammar posters stuck everywhere, pictures of famous writers (most of them long dead, Louis noted), and a textbook set neatly on each desk. It wasn't really his style, but then again, it wasn't his classroom either.

"Well hello, there. You must be Mr. Tomlinson," a voice gushed from behind him. Louis spun around quickly at the sudden noise and found himself looking at a friendly-looking woman who looked to be not too much older than himself, perhaps thirty. "I'm Ms. Walker, but you can call me Amy," she said with a giggle and a wink as she outstretched her hand for Louis to shake.

Louis mentally rolled his eyes at his mentor's obvious attempt at flirting. He politely shook her hand and plastered a smile on his face. "Louis," he said with a nod. Ms. Walker--Amy, giggled once again.

"It's great to meet you, Louis. Looks like we'll be spending quite a bit of time together this year," she said as she spun on her heel, causing her blonde curls to swish Louis in the face.

'Very subtle,' Louis thought to himself as he suppressed a laugh.

"So, how about we get to know each other a bit in the--" Amy glanced at the silver watch adorning her slight wrist "oh, ten minutes or so, before the students come in?" she asked, gazing directly in Louis' eyes and succeeding in making him very uncomfortable.

"Um, yeah, sure," he stuttered out. "What do you want to know?"

"Well for starters, how old are you? You don't look much older than some of my students," she said, still fixing him with her intense gaze.

"That's because I'm not," he told her shyly. "I'm twenty-one," he said.

"Oh that young, are you? How'd you finish school so quickly?" she inquired, her pale blue eyes seeming to inspect every inch of Louis' toned body. Suddenly he felt very self-conscious of his tight-fitting navy blue button-up and similarly body-hugging beige chinos.

Louis fumbled with his hands awkwardly and kept his gaze fixed down on them as he replied, "I skipped a year or two," as nonchalantly as he could.

"Handsome and smart. I like that," Amy flirted shamelessly.

Louis' cheeks burned a deep red and he was at a loss for words when he was saved by the first bell, signaling that class would start in five minutes. The class started to trickle in slowly. Thankfully Ms. Walker had gone to the door to greet her students, leaving Louis to regain his composure. The final bell rang and Ms. Walker returned up to the front of the classroom. Louis was sat in a chair behind a makeshift desk that had been pulled to one corner of the room for him. Amy motioned for him to join her at the front and he pulled a fake smile onto his face as he strolled over to stand beside her.

"Hello, class and welcome back! I'm hopeful you all had a great summer, yes?" This earned several enthusiastic nods before she continued. "Great. Well I'm Ms. Walker, and this," she said, pointing to Louis, "is Mr. Tomlinson. He will be sitting in on class for the year, if I'm not mistaken?" Louis quickly nodded in agreement and Ms. Walker turned her attention back to the class. "Mr. Tomlinson will be my student teacher, so feel free to consult him with any questions you may have, as well as myself."

"Alright, first order of business is attendance, I suppose. Louis, would you be so kind?" Amy asked in an embarrassingly flirtatious voice.

"Of course," Louis spoke for the first time before the class. "Yes, erm...Charlotte Attwood?" he called. A pretty brunette raised her hand. He nodded in her direction. "Beautiful name. It's my sister's as well," he told her before continuing down the list. "Harry Styles?" Louis' voice echoed. Silence. "No Harry?" Louis asked as the door swung open, slamming heavily against the wall behind it. A tough-looking curly-haired boy sauntered in slowly, taking a seat at the back next to a black-haired boy Louis remembered as being called Zayn.

"Mr. Styles, you're late," Ms. Walker said, clearly annoyed at the disturbance the boy had caused.

"Sorry, Ms. Walker. I was a little--preoccupied," Harry smirked as he fixed his disheveled curls, trying to make a point that they were messed from an intense make-out session.

"Harry, it's a brand-new year. Your last year until Uni. Couldn't you at least try to make an effort?" Ms. Walker pleaded.

"Mmhmm," Harry mumbled, rolling his eyes.

Ms. Walker sighed in defeat and let Louis carry on with attendance. When he had finished, Ms. Walker distributed a small book to each student.

"Romeo and Juliet!" A girl, Emma, if Louis recalled correctly, squealed in delight. The rest of the girls in class looked just as excited as Emma, while most of the boys rolled their eyes and sulked.

"Now for the next couple weeks," Ms. Walker droned as she passed out the last few books, "we will be studying this play thoroughly. That means keep up on the reading I give you each night--" That earned a collective groan from the boys, who were quickly reprimanded with a stern scowl from the teacher. "As I was saying," she continued, "you'll have an assigned reading each night. Now, the next day in class, we will be having a discussion. It's up to you whether or not you take notes, but I would highly suggest it. But for now, I want to just get our brains going by doing some creative writing. Take out a blank sheet of paper, please."

Louis was once again sat behind his makeshift desk, scanning over the faces of the students he'd be spending the rest of the year with. He heard the rustling of papers as they pulled papers out of their school bags and purses. "Alright, for your prompt, I would like you to write about the sentence on the board," Ms. Walker said in her shrill voice. She pointed to the whiteboard behind her where she had neatly written the prompt as Louis took attendance.

'Love at first sight exists,' it read.

"You can feel free to agree or disagree with this statement, but either way, I want you to back up your claim. I'll be collecting these at the end of the period and grading them based on participation alone. So please don't interpret this as a free period--Mr. Styles!" Louis glanced over to Harry, who had evidently fallen asleep. Zayn poked him hard in the ribs, causing the sleeping boy to nearly tip out of his seat.

"HARRY!" Zayn hissed before smacking the back of his head. Harry lifted his head from the desk and glared at Zayn.

"Thank you, Mr. Malik," Ms. Walker said. Zayn gave her an army-style salute before beginning to scribble on the paper before him.

Harry reclined in his chair, arms crossed behind his head. Zayn looked over at his best friend and sighed, sliding a piece of paper and a pen to him. "Thanks, mate," the curly-haired boy said as he scribbled a few words down on his paper before returning to his original position. Zayn snuck a peak over at Harry's paper, surprised that he was done writing so soon. Of course, he wasn't too shocked when he saw that he hadn't written much else besides his name and a few lines about the prompt.

Harry had the reputation of being the school bad-boy. He didn't care about school, and he especially didn't care about what people thought about him. At least that's what he wanted everyone to think. Underneath the façade, however, he was broken. He was a ticking time bomb waiting to explode.

He hadn't always been that way, though. At his old school back in Cheshire, he had been a model student. He never acted out, got straight A's, and had plenty of friends. He basically had the perfect life until one night that changed everything.


He had been in year nine, fairly popular, well liked. It was the night of a big party at his mate Ben's house. These parties had the tendency to get slightly out of control. More than once--after a long night of pounding music, glaring lights, and sweaty bodies grinding together to the tune--Harry had woken up in a heap on the floor, surrounded by discarded beer bottles and crumpled napkins, his head throbbing.

That night was no different.

Harry arrived fashionably late as usual, dressed in skin-tight black skinny jeans, a body-hugging black v-neck t-shirt, and white Chuck Taylors. He had paid particularly close attention to his chocolaty curls that night, making sure they were swept perfectly to one side of his forehead. He had to admit, he looked fucking sexy.

He didn't bother knocking on the door, realizing the sound wouldn't be heard over the blaring music pounding out a beat, making Harry's jaw buzz in anticipation. He pushed the front door open and slipped into the already people-filled front hallway. He expertly navigated through the mass of bodies toward the kitchen. Harry snagged a beer from the fridge before slipping in the living room, where the mass of the partygoers had congregated. He had found Ben dancing with some slutty-looking girl in a tight dress barely covering her bum. He made his way over to his friend and high-fived already tipsy Ben. He quickly gulped down his own bottle of beer, loving the buzzed feeling he could feel forming in his head. He excused himself and Ben went back to grinding against the girl and trailing sloppy kisses down her neck, her hands twisted around the back of his neck and in his dark hair.

Back in the kitchen, another of Harry's mates, Jordan, was stood behind the breakfast bar, a large bottle of vodka in hand.

" 'tsup Harry?" he slurred heavily.

The curly-haired boy grinned at his clearly drunk friend. "Nothin' much. Trying your hand at bartending, aye mate?"

Jordan nodded his head quickly before offering the bottle to Harry.

He took it gratefully and took a big swig before passing it back.

"I-I challenge a drink-off," Jordan stuttered slowly and smirked cockily at Harry. "Firs' one to down ten shots wins. Loser has to--" a wicked smile spread across the sandy-blonde boy's face. "Loser has to knock on Mrs. Tate's door and snog the daylights out of her--naked," he said, a huge grin still on his lips.

Harry's eyes widened when Jordan's words sunk in. "NOT THE CRAZY CAT LADY" he screamed in alarm.

"Oh yes, Mrs. Tate, better known as Ben's crazy old feline-loving neighbor. Or are you too scared? HARRY'S A SCAREDY CAT, HARR--" Jordan was cut off by Harry's hand clamping over his mouth.

"I'm in," he growled, removing his hand.

"Good," Jordan smirked as he grabbed a stack of disposable shot glasses in various neon colors. He poured the sickly sweet clear liquid in and slid ten glasses to Harry and kept the other ten for himself. "On your mark, get set, GO!" Jordan screamed as he began knocking down shots. Harry matched his pace for the first eight gulps, but the burning in his throat slowed him down slightly as he lifted the ninth glass to his plump lips. He swallowed hard and threw his head back, tipping the liquid into his mouth before grabbing his final glass. By now, a small crowd had formed around the boys, cheering them on. Harry glanced over at Jordan, who had half a sip of vodka left at the bottom of his glass. He was peering drunkenly at it, as if wishing for it to disappear. When the boy noticed Harry watching him, he gave an evil smile. The two locked gazes for a split second before both quickly tilted their heads back and gulped the final shot. Harry couldn't stand the too-sweet taste of the cherry-flavored alcohol, though, and ended up spitting the last shot all over the front of Jordan's shirt.

Jordan's triumphant grin faltered for a moment as he pinched the vodka-spattered material of his t-shirt. It quickly returned, however, as he stacked his empty shot glasses in front of Harry. "And I believe that', two, three... ummm...yeah that's all of them," he laughed at himself, unable to remember what came after three. "I win, Styles. Now, shoo! Outside! You've gotta punishment to carry out," he laughed.

Harry pulled his shirt over his head, mumbling obscenities. He pulled off his shoes and socks, and finally his jeans, earning a couple wolf whistles from the crowd of wasted teenagers. He waved it off and left the kitchen, making his way toward the front door. He yanked it open and his bare skin rose into goosebumps as the crisp night air hit him. "Awh, bloody hell," he swore before slamming the door behind him. He turned around and illuminated in the windows, he could see Jordan's outline. He raised his middle finger to the boy, causing the blonde to clutch at his sides in hysterical laughter. When he regained his composure, Jordan mimicked pulling his pants down and Harry groaned and yanked his boxers off. He trudged over to Mrs. Tate's front door and knocked, crossing his fingers that she wouldn't answer.

He had no such luck.

The sixty-something year-old woman opened the door, her eyes bulging wide as she caught a glimpse of the naked boy stood before her.

'May as well have a little fun as long as I'm forced to do this,' Harry thought.

"Well, hello, Mrs. Tate. Or may I call you Agnes?" he said seductively, internally shuddering at the name of the old woman.

"Young man, you have no right--"

"You're looking particularly sexy tonight, Agnes," Harry cut her off before leaning in and pressing his lips to hers. He quickly ripped his mouth away and sprinted off back to Ben's, collecting his boxers and slipping them on before throwing the door wide and letting himself back in.

He was greeted with loud laughter and clapping. The partygoers had seen everything from the window. Harry's cheeks flushed crimson and he bowed deeply to cover it up.

"It wasn't a proper snog, but I'll let it slide this time, Styles. That was bloody brilliant!" Jordan whooped.

"Never speak of it again," he spoke through gritted teeth.

With the action now over, people started to head home, many clutching their heads or stomachs due to the after-effects of the alcohol. Harry wasn't one to leave a party early, though. There were still maybe a dozen people mingling about, and he wasn't ready to quit the fun yet.

"How about a game?" he asked.

"Will there be alcohol involved?" Jordan slurred, leaning slightly on one of his friends, a blonde girl named Jessica. She was just barely more sober than the boy she was supporting, but she managed to keep him upright.

Harry chuckled. "Do you know me at all, Jordan? Of course!"

"Sign me up," he mumbled only half-coherently. Jessica nodded as well. Harry looked at the rest of the teens who all seemed to be in agreement that a game would be fun.

"Alright, so how about truth or dare? That's always...interesting when you're drunk, yeah?" The group nodded, most of them too dazed by the alcohol in their systems to really know what was going on.

Harry ushered them into Ben's basement, but Ben himself was nowhere to be seen. Probably off hooking up with the slutty girl who'd been grinding on him, Harry thought. Everyone sat in a big circle and Harry excused himself for a minute. He jogged into the trashed kitchen littered with bottles and empty cups and opened the cupboard where he knew the liquor was kept. He pulled out a large, unopened bottle of rum, his personal favorite, and twisted it open, taking a long drink from the glass bottle. He could handle his liquor quite well. He wasn't even stumbling. He returned to the basement to join the game. The overhead lights were dimmed and soft music was playing in the background.

"I'll go first. Erm...Jordan! Truth or dare? Harry asked.

"Dare," he mumbled.

Harry grinned. He'd been hoping for that answer.

"I dare you to go to call Sarah and confess your undying love for her," he smirked as Jordan paled a deathly white.

"W-what?!" he sputtered.

"Sorry, mate. Payback's a bitch," Harry told him. Jordan had been crushing on Sarah for as long as Harry could remember. He may have been popular, but Jordan was incredibly awkward around hot girls. Harry was surprised he hadn't blushed three shades darker when Jessica had grabbed his hand to drag him downstairs.

"Fine, I'll do it," he uttered, his words still slurred together. Harry's finger hovered over Sarah's name in the contacts list on his phone before he jammed his thumb down on it. He quickly shoved the iPhone in Jordan's hand.

Harry could faintly hear the ringing, but just barely. "SPEAKER!" he shouted and Jordan groaned but complied, realizing full-well--even in his drunken state--that the conversation would be a hundred times more humiliating now that his friends could hear both sides of the call.

Finally, after five rings, a soft, feminine voice laced with sleepiness whispered, "hello?"

Just hearing his crush's voice made Jordan panic. His brown eyes were like a pug's, bulging out of this head. His cheeks were practically on fire, and he had a growing "issue" he was trying hard to cover up.

Harry noticed Jordan's uncomfortable squirming and his eyes followed traveled the length of his best friend's body until they came to rest on what Jordan was attempting-- but failing--to cover. The poor boy had a massive bulge growing in the crotch of his pants. By now Jordan was practically writhing on the floor, his skinny jeans obviously a poor choice at the moment. Harry hadn't realized he was still staring until Joe, a popular football player that Harry was quite fond of, slapped him lightly on the back.

"You okay, there man?" the tanned, muscular boy asked. "You look a bit...out of it. Has the incredible Harry Styles finally reached his breaking point?" he kidded, not too sober himself.

"Wha- yes. I mean no! Erm...maybe," Harry admitted sheepishly. It was a lie of course. He really was a champion at holding his liquor. He had drunk quite a lot, but not enough that he would consider himself pass-out-on-the-floor drunk. He was a bit numb, but other than that he felt completely himself. But he had just been caught eyeing up his best friend. His best MALE friend. And that was not something Harry Styles did. He was straight, or at least he thought he was. Lately he had been having strange feelings about men, even a couple extremely awkward sex dreams about guys, but he convinced himself it was just a phase. All boys are confused at some point in their lives. He wasn't a freak--was he?

"Anyway," Harry said rather quickly, "did I miss the whole conversation?"

Joe nodded, his brown shaggy hair ruffling around him and into his face as he did so. "It was quite hilarious, actually. He had woken her up with his phone call, so she was already slightly pissed off. But then he--he kind of blurted..." Joe broke into a fit of hysterical laughter. He soon had tears rolling down his cheeks as he thrashed around on the floor, clutching at his side and gasping for breath in between fits.

"He blurted what?!" Harry inquired impatiently.

When Joe was finally able to calm himself down, he slurred out the explanation. "He blurted out that he has had the biggest crush on her for years now. And that he stares at her ass in gym class, and he told her about the pictures of her from the yearbook that he taped to his wall. And then he started singing a truly horrendous rendition of 'Marry Me' by Train. For awhile she was silent and we thought she'd hung up. But then she said in this threatening voice 'Jordan Kirk, don't you ever talk to me again. Don't look at me, don't even THINK about me. You're fucking insane' and then she hung up," he informed Harry before he cracked up once again.

Harry snuck a glance over at Jordan and what he saw made his heart break slightly. He looked so dejected and sad, and Harry knew it was all his fault. He had known how much Jordan liked Sarah and now all because of this stupid dare, she would probably never even glance his direction again. Why did he have to be so thick-skulled all the time?

Before he really knew what he was doing, he was over huddling by Jordan's side, practically sitting on his lap. He gathered the blonde boy into his arms and held him close to his own body and began to stroke his hair comfortingly. "Jordan, listen. I'm really sorry. That was a horrible thing to make you do. I'm such a bad friend," the curly-haired boy said regretfully.

"N-No. You're not, Harry. Odds are I won't even remember this whole thing in the morning anyway. I'll just tell Sarah it was a joke and that I was drunk. No biggie, right?" he replied, trying to be cheerful.

"I guess. I still feel awful though. So we're good? Best friends, mate?"

"The best," said Jordan, cracking a genuine smile.

The boys' arms were still around each other in a warm hug when Joe awkwardly cleared his throat. "Well, lovebirds...I'll go next." Jordan rolled his eyes at the nickname as he pulled Harry's arms off of him. Harry sighed quietly at the loss of contact before reminding himself that he shouldn't be thinking that way about his best guy friend.

"Harry! Truth or dare?"

"Dare" he retorted confidently. He was never one to turn down a dare.

Joe's face scrunched up in overly-exaggerated concentration. He looked truly smashed, Harry thought. "Okay, I got one," he informed the group, a mischievous smile lighting up his entire face. He looked vaguely like a serial killer, Harry noted. "Harry, I dare take Jordan in that closet and play Seven Minutes in Heaven with him!"

Harry went pale and Jordan just sat on his spot on the carpet, looking dazed and confused. "Well, you heard me! In the closet. NOW!" Joe pulled Harry to his feet and the latter helped Jordan up gently.

***WARNING: MILD SEXUAL CONTENT AHEAD...if you don't like it, I'll let you know when you can begin reading again***

Joe shoved the two boys in the dark room and paused momentarily, shuffling around slightly, before slamming the door. The two boys were locked in the tiny little closet, the only light a tiny sliver of gold coming from the crack under the door. Their bodies were pressed against each other, as there wasn't room for both to stand comfortably apart.

Harry could feel Jordan's still-prominent erection from before when he talked to Sarah pressing against his inner thigh. And from there, it all went downhill. He would love to blame his actions on the alcohol, but he was completely aware of what he did next.

"We don't actually have to do anything, you know," Harry told Jordan.

His friend nodded gratefully. "Good. That was about to be awkward!" the blonde said, stumbling and swaying slightly before Harry caught him from tumbling to the floor.

When Jordan tried to create some space between him and Harry, he accidentally ground his hips against Harry's. The tingling feeling the contact sent through his core drove him to do what happened next. Without really thinking too much, he pushed Jordan back about two inches, pinning him to the wall. Before he knew it, he had crashed his lips forcefully to his best friend's.

But it couldn't have stopped there, when it was still fairly innocent. Oh, no, it had to get much worse. Harry just couldn't control himself. His tongue forced its way into Jordan's mouth, where he was met with very little resistance. Jordan was too drunk and tired to fight back. He probably had no clue what was going on. Harry's tongue kept exploring every crevice of his friend's mouth, and his hands trailed from where they had been originally tangled in Jordan's long hockey-hair, all the way down to the other boy's crotch, where his erection was still a bulge beneath Harry's hand.

Harry just couldn't help it. He began to palm Jordan through his jeans, wanting nothing more than to get rid of the thick material separating his hand from his best friend's manhood.

He let out a low, gutteral moan of pleasure, even though Jordan still wasn't reacting to the steamy kiss. His limbs were as limp as spaghetti noodles and Harry basically had to support him or he'd collapse in a drunken heap on the floor and fall asleep. But Harry didn't care. He had been kidding himself for far too long. He was gay and now he knew it for sure. Jordan's small whimper of pleasure at Harry's touch on his crotch drove him insane.

A loud moan erupted from his parted lips before he could stop it. He was sure everyone in the other room could hear him, but he could easily convince the drunk party-goers that he'd just been acting. He hoped his seven minutes weren't up yet. There was so much more he wanted to do. He pressed his now slightly puffy lips to Jordan's neck and began sucking and biting at the point where his friend's jaw met his throat. He was surprised when this time, he felt warm, rough hands push against his chest.

***MILD SEXUAL CONTENT OVER...continue reading :)***

"No, Harry," Jordan mumbled. "You're...You're a boy," he slurred.

He knew he shouldn't be offended, but the rejection hurt Harry. He may have had a slight crush on Jordan. Oh, who was he kidding. He had liked Jordan for years now. Pathetic, really. In love with his best friend. He couldn't control who his heart chose, he knew, but still. Why did it have to be Jordan? It just made things so...complicated. His heart was now being shattered to pieces at the hands of his best friend.

"Jordan...I'm--I'm sorry. I dunno where that came from," the curly-haired boy sighed, running a hand through his slightly-matted ringlets.

" 's okay, mate. It's only the alcohol speaking, aye? I bet you secretly love my body though," Jordan giggled. He wiggled his butt slightly and Harry laughed, nodding his head. That was a close call, he thought. He'd have to pretend not to remember a thing tomorrow morning. Not that Jordan would remember, anyway.

Harry sighed heavily as the time continued to tick by, filled with an awkward silence. "Oh for fuck sake! How much longer?" Harry groaned. He needed to get out of his...uncomfortable position, he thought, peeking down to the slightly-tented material of his black skinnies. As if on cue, the door was yanked open swiftly.

"Alright, boys. Have fun?" A smug-looking Joe asked. Harry shrugged and pushed past the tall boy quickly. He walked back to the living room and was greeted with a chorus of giggles from the teens still seated in a loose circle on the fuzzy carpet. He peered at them with questioning eyes, but the laughter came to a quick halt as his presence was noticed. He shook it off. Probably nothing, he thought. He mumbled something about having to get home before curfew and gave a small wave before taking the stairs two at a time. He paused at the top when he heard the giggles resume. He held his breath and just barely made out one of the girls, trying to contain her laughter, say: "who would've ever guessed Harry, of all people, was gay?". His eyes grew a hundred times larger and he broke into a nervous sweat. SHIT. They must've heard his moaning.

They were all wasted, though. They wouldn't remember a thing in the morning, he assured himself.

The next Monday at school, however, when he was greeted with snickers and whispering, all eyes glued to him, he knew something was wrong. He'd screwed up. But he could tell them it was all a drunken mistake and it would all blow over soon, no problem, right?

He made his way quickly to Jordan's locker. Hopefully he didn't remember Saturday's activities. He saw the familiar head of blonde hair and made a beeline for him. "JORDAN!" The boy jumped a little. His eyes came to rest on Harry, but darted to the floor just as quickly.

"What do you want, Harry?" he asked coldly. He still wouldn't look at his friend.

"Erm, Jordan? Did I--did I do something wrong?" the boy stuttered, deciding to play dumb.

"You're going to act like you don't fucking know?! Well let me jog your memory," Jordan hissed furiously. This was not the happy, carefree Jordan whom Harry was used to. "The party Saturday...that fucking stupid dare...the closet...Harry, you practically raped me! And don't you DARE tell me you were drunk because I know damn well you knew what you were doing. The thing I don't know is why. You made a fool of me, Harry. I thought I could trust you," he said, his voice cracking at the end as tears began to well up in his eyes.

"What--" Harry began before he was cut off.

"DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE TRY TO DENY IT HARRY!" Jordan screamed, shoving his iPhone into Harry's hand. The latter looked down at the small screen. He was staring at a text message from Joe with a video attached. It was a twitcam that had apparently been streamed Saturday night. Cautiously and dreading what he was about to see, Harry pushed play. The video was shaky and pitch black at first, but it came to rest motionless a few seconds later and a door slamming shut could be heard. Harry's heart began thumping an irregular beat against his rib cage as he heard a soft, raspy voice murmur: "we don't actually have to do anything, you know." His own voice. He stared at the video, horrified. The small sliver of light illuminated the two boys just enough so that their outlines, obviously smashed uncomfortably close together, were visible. By now, Harry's head was spinning. He felt as if he could pass out at any moment. He vaguely heard Jordan's slurred words, his own moans, and saw himself slamming his friend to the wall before snogging him and grinding their crotches together. The video ended and Harry handed the phone back to Jordan with trembling hands.

"You took advantage of me, Harry. I can't--I can't do this anymore," the sandy blonde said, his eyes misty with fresh tears. "Just--just leave me alone, alright. Just leave me alone," he repeated before slamming his locker and heading off to class.

With tears tracing trails down his cheeks, Harry made his way to his first lesson. He couldn't believe he had done that to Jordan. He deserved to be treated like this. Like complete shit.

His tear-stained face attracted many stares from other students, many of them laughing at him before looking back at their phones, probably watching the video of him and Jordan now circulating around the school. He heard whispers of words like 'fag', 'gay', and worst of all, 'disgusting'.

That's how he felt. Disgusting. Not because he was gay, no, he'd come to terms with that, but he was disgusted with himself because he had dragged Jordan into it all with him. He probably wouldn't want anything to do with Harry ever again.

And he was right.

As the weeks went by, the whispering and gossiping escalated. Now he was being shoved around in the halls too. All his so-called "friends"--including Jordan--had abandoned him and had even joined in on the bullying. No one wanted to hang out with "that gay kid who might make a move on you."

Jordan was now one of the worst of the bullies. He glared at the curly-haired boy every chance he got and shoved him hard into the lockers lining the halls when teachers couldn't see. He hurled insults at the boy left and right, spitting them out harshly. People still respected Jordan, though. In the video he had been barely coherent, so people must've known it was Harry who forced himself on the other boy.

***ANOTHER WARNING...SELF-HARM. You know the drill***

Harry had never handled people hating him very well. But then again, he wasn't really used to people hating him, either. He'd heard of people cutting themselves before as a way of relieving stress and pain but had never actually done it himself. So his first time, he was very unsure of himself.

He'd located a razor and was holding it cautiously between his thumb and index finger, keeping it a safe distance from his body. He was scared. The young man closed his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. With one more gulp of air, he opened his eyes and began toying with the shiny silver object between his fingers. He just barely skimmed the soft flesh of his wrist with it and it sent tingles down his spine. Gaining confidence, he pressed the cool blade deeper into the pale skin and traced a quick line, leaving behind a trail of crimson blood. The sharp pain caused him to suck in a deep breath and squeeze his eyes closed. Soon, though, the pain ceased and it started to make him feel good. He made a few more quick slashes and the blood began flowing freely. It dripped from his wrist down to his elbow and finally came to rest in a small pool on the white tiled floor. He stood there in front of the large bathroom mirror with a huge grin on his face, peering at his ruined wrist. Would Jordan be happy knowing that he had done this to his "best friend"?

***SELF HARM OVER. Continue***

After the adrenaline wore off a few minutes later his face fell and a strangled sob escaped from the back of his throat. It had felt good while it lasted, but now with the numbing pain gone and a stinging throb left in its wake, Harry felt awful. His friends all hated him. Hell, he hated himself.

And that was the moment that the dark side of Harry began to show itself. His grades slipped, he got into fights, several of them with Jordan. He began to dress differently, no longer the preppy look he had always gone for before. Now he favored anything black with leather and rips. His tightly wound curls were left to grow out and fell in loose waves over the boy's now icy-green eyes. His behavior got so bad that he got himself expelled from school.

But that's a whole different story.

All that mattered was that he got kicked out, away from the bullying, away from Jordan, and most importantly, away from his reputation as "the gay kid."

Harry was no longer the same happy-go-lucky boy he once was, though. Now he was angry all the time. It was as if something in him had just snapped. The only thing that could calm him now was cutting. Even after switching schools and escaping the bullies, he hadn't given up on the habit. He had become almost addicted to the feeling of fresh cuts on his pale skin. He loved admiring the straight, red lines stretching across his wrist. Whenever he felt himself about to lose control, he found himself running his fingers over the raised lines. It was a therapy for him.

And now Harry was the school bad boy. Everyone was scared of him and his tattoo-covered best friend, Zayn. It was alright, he supposed. Better than being attacked because he was gay. But besides Zayn, people mostly ignored him. Girls were fairly easy to pick up, however. Apparently they were attacked to his bad-boy reputation. No one here knew he was gay, and he made it a point to keep it that way. He was now considered a player and indeed slept around quite often.

He wasn't proud of what he had become, but to Harry, it was the only way to keep himself from getting hurt again. Maybe one day he'd find a guy who would love him for him. Or maybe that guy didn't exist...

[A/N: welcome back guys! I was really happy with how well the first chapter was received so I'm hoping you all like the second one too. Hopefully you're all good with the mature content? If not, I did put warnings soooo... Yeah well let me know what you think, how I can improve, blah blah blah.

So far, there's no like/favorite/comment goal I have to get to in order to post the next chappie, but there might be if I feel like I'm not getting enough feedback! Keep that in mind if you want another chapter soon!

Love you my sexy little kittens xx ]
Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...