Set Her Free

Harry Styles has known something is wrong with him for most of his life. He's wicked smart and really nice, but people don't hang out with him. He gets called 'gay' on a daily basis, although he doesn't know what that means until third grade. He gets called 'weak' when he plays sports, because he's not good at them. He spends too much time looking at the cheerleaders. But it's not because he wants them. He wants to be one of them.


4. A Startling Discovery

Harry had just come home from school a few days before he turned fifteen years old. He had completely ignored his mother, flew past his father, and slammed the door to the basement. He stumbled down the steps, chucked his bag into the nearest wall, and collapsed into bed, where he promptly burst into tears.

He'd gotten bullied for the first time that day.

It was just some stupid guys. Harry, Louis and Niall were all hanging out that day by the park. Louis was bragging about his brand-new driving permit, and Niall had been making penis jokes to see how red Harry's face would go. Harry was using his general social strategy, which was dubbed 'quietly listening'. They were all sitting on top of the jungle gym. Well, Louis was hanging upside down on it, but they were all together. Zayn had a family dinner that afternoon, and Liam had a thing with his sisters so he couldn't be with them.


The word had come out of nowhere. The three had thought that they were alone. And surprisingly, it was Louis that had reacted first. The older boy had perked up, swinging so he was sitting upright and jumping off of the jungle gym, landing on his feet. Harry could see his face, and he knew that expression. It was the one Louis wore when he was severely pissed off.

"What did you call me?" He hissed at the guys, for Harry realized that it was more than one.

They were evenly matched. Three to three. At this time, Harry still hadn't hit puberty, so he looked small and scrawny against those guys. The one on the right, a broad-shouldered blond with cold eyes, was staring at Louis like he wanted to eat him. He was taller than Louis, even taller than Niall, who was the tallest out of their three. The one to the left had black hair, with a chunk of it dyed blond. It hung in his face so Harry couldn't see his eyes, and he had on the clothes that suggested he was trying to be goth or something. The one who had spoken was the most threatening to Harry. He looked like a younger version of his own father, and that scared him more than anything else.

"I wasn't talking to you, although you are a bit of a faggot, too." The younger version of Harry's dad said with a haughty smirk on his face. "The little princess, up there." The boy pointed a thick finger up at Harry himself.

"He's the faggot. He looks like he could be a little girl. Hey, Curly Fag, when was the last time you let a guy put his dick up your ass?" Harry's eyes had widened and the opposite three had laughed like this was funny. Harry's face had flushed like it always did on that word, but this time Niall wasn't laughing.

"Why don't you just leave him alone?" The blond boy had spat in defense of Harry. The opposite three just laughed and continued calling Harry an assortment of cruel, hurtful names. And although Harry wouldn't admit to it, it was tearing him apart inside.

Finally, the boys had bailed with help from Louis. Help, as in he chased after them with a string of profanities and all sorts of threats. Once he came back, he and Niall brought him home, which is where he was now. Harry had asked them what all the names meant, and as he found out each of them it tore him a new cut in his soul. He didn't like being made fun of-hell, who does?- but it all just seemed unnecessary at the time. It hurt him, and they hadn't even had a legitimate reason.

So for now he was crying into his pillow, his body aching as if he'd been physically abused rather than verbally.

Flash-forward a few months from that incident.

A fifteen-year-old Harry Styles was on his laptop, which had been a birthday present from his parents. It was personal laptop, that nobody else was allowed on. He had it password-protected, so they couldn't unless they asked him.

He had decided to get to the bottom of his feelings of wanting to be a girl.

He'd gone through so many things. Things that only Louis knew about, things his family knew about, things that only his mother knew about, or even things that he hadn't told anybody. They were too personal. And they were all so strong, he knew it had happened for so long and burned with the same intensity that he knew what he felt was true.

He typed into his search bar 'What is it called when a boy wants to be a girl?'

The first thing was a 'Yahoo Answers'. And since he typically relied on that for homework, he clicked it. The first answer said, 'The term for a boy who wants to be a girl: Autogynephile.'

He looked that up as well, and it said that was the term for a man who became sexually aroused by the thought of himself as a woman. He had wrinkled his nose and shook his head. That was not at all like he felt.

Next he typed: 'What is it called when a boy thinks he is a girl?'

The first answer for that was 'WikiAnswers' page. It said: 'When a boy feels as though he was born in the wrong body, then he is a transsexual or transgendered.'

So that led to finding out that transgender was his label.

And apparently whenever 'trans' anything was involved in his life, there would be pain.

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