The Only Exception - Larry Stylinson

-idea from band, Paramore-

Harry Styles had been homeschooled all his life, until now. He had watched this beautiful mysterious boy, Louis Tomlinson, pass by his house week. Now that he finally gets to attend public school, will he be able to meet Louis?


Available on Wattpad: author: @ noodleswithniall

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1. I

   Twice a day, Harry sees the boy pass by his very large and cozy house, head held down and no smile. He seems older, older than Harry. He's always been curious about the boy, but has never tried speaking with him. The boy was attractive, really attractive, but he always looks sad and lonely and Harry just wants to hug his loneliness away.

   Harry never sees him anywhere else, he's home schooled and doesn't go out much. His mother says there are too many crazy kids in school and she doesn't want him to get upset. But he longs to go to the crowded school and meet people and make friends. He'd love a friend, it gets a little lonely with just his parents and himself. He wants the mysterious boy to be his friend.

    Harry sighs and rests his chin in his hands, waiting for the boy to show up. He's peering through his bedroom window, watching the outside view. The day was pretty warm, warm enough for shorts and a t-shirt. His head perked up when he saw the dirty high top converse shuffling across the sidewalk. The boy's head was hung low, his messy brown hair falling into his face, which Harry liked a lot. He continued to stare at the strange boy, not noticing his mother was behind him.

    "Harry Edward Styles, how many times have I told you not to stare!" His mother's strict voice caused Harry's head to snap away from the boy. "But mum," he whined, "I was just looking outside." She rolled her eyes and returned to the kitchen, probably to to fix dinner. He snapped his head back to the window, expecting the boy to be gone, but he was bending down plucking a flower.

       His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration while looking at the small yellow flower. He stopped examining it, then simply put it in the pocket of his backpack. Harry wondered what he would do with it, it seemed quite odd to pick a random wild flower and keep it. As if nothing happened, the boy continued walking, hands stuffed into the pockets of his gray skinny jeans. Harry frowned once the boy was out of sight, he always had so many questions about him and he needs to find the answers.

       He heard his front door slammed closed and the familiar groan from exhaustion was instantly recognized. His father - or step father - had just gotten off work and by the looks of it, it seemed like a rough day. Harry rushed out of his room and into the foyer of his house, where his father stood, taking off his dress shoes. "Hey Dad!" He said cheerfully, excited that his father was home. He had promised to play football (soccer) with Harry today after dinner and Harry's been looking forward to it all day.

     "Hello, Harry. How was your work today?" Of course he's talking about school work, his mother wouldn't him get a proper job- he's too young anyway. "Fine. 'M still struggling in this maths lesson, but I'll get it," he answered, tugging at his shirt collar. His father nodded, and strolled into the kitchen where his mother was. "How are you, dear?" He asked, leaning on the island with his arms. "Quite alright. Dinner will be ready in five. Harry, go wash your hands!" She ordered and Harry quickly nodded.

       He scurried upstairs into the bathroom, slowly spreading soap around his hands. The water was average, slightly warm. He hurriedly dried his hands with a small white towel. He sighed through his nose and messed with his curly brown hair. He gave a half smile to himself in the mirror, then shuffled back downstairs where his mother had prepared dinner.

     "It smells lovely mum," Harry complimented, sniffing the air lightly as he walked into the kitchen. His mother gave him a smile and handed Harry a plate. She served mashed potatoes and some fresh ham, that smelt -- as well as tasted -- delightful. His parents sat at the circular table in the dining room, Harry following. That was one of the Styles's rules, eating dinner as a family.

      They chatted quietly about their day, and Harry listened closely to his father's stories from work. The stories were quite funny and interesting, most of the time. "So Harry," he looked up at his name, "your dad told me you were getting better at football," his mother mentioned, with a proud look on her face. Truth is, Harry is absolutely rubbish at football, but he definitely is better than he used to be. "Um..Kinda," he replied, shrugging. "Son, you are getting better, better than before anyway," his father said.

        Harry nodded and put his plate in the sink, finished with his food. "I'll go change and get the football dad!" He called, already running up the steps to his bedroom. He picked out some red basketball shorts and a random t shirt, carelessly throwing them on. He grabbed the black and white football that was laying on his desk. He was about to walk back into the kitchen, but he heard his parents hushed voices talking rapidly.

  "No, Robin, he's not ready!" That was his mother.

    "He's sixteen! He needs to talk to people his own age and go to school," his father whisper yelled. "But...you know when he was a child, he got upset with loud voices," his mother argued.

"Well maybe he has changed. Now, he's going to a normal school and thats final."

    Harry walked into the kitchen, acting oblivious to the conversation that they were having just moments ago. "Ready dad?" He asked. His father nodded, trying to act casual.

"Lets go."

---

    As Harry was trudging sleepily to bed later that night, proud that he only tripped once during football, his father stopped him before he could make it to his room. "Harry.., you're almost an adult. And your mother, may not agree..." He trailed off. Harry gulped, instantly knowing what this is about. "But I think you should go to a public school," he suggested.

    Harry remained silent, his thoughts twisting through his mind, making him confused and stressed. His father waited impatiently for an answer, rocking on the heels of his feet. "O-okay," Harry whispered, nodding. Though, he was still unsure of his answer. "That's my boy!" His father ruffled his hair with his hand, grinning as he walked away from the stressing boy.

     Harry speed walked to his room, instantly falling onto his bed. What had he done? He was worried as hell, wondering what will happen when - or if - he goes. He groaned, throwing his hands over his face. Stupid, stupid Harry. But a great, hopeful thought passed through his brain. What if he gets to see the mystery boy..and actually talk to him?

---
1147 words. Short, yes. But I tried :). Pls comment, vote, share..? x -k

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