Get Out Of My Head (Larry Stylinson AU)
Harry Styles was a quiet lad from a small town in Cheshire, but when he came out as gay things became too hard for him there so he moved to Doncaster. It was the same there. Well, almost the same. The difference was Louis Tomlinson. The most popular boy in school. Louis was a loud outgoing party boy, but what does Harry do that changes everything?
Get Out Of My Head: Chapter One
Life was good, I had a loving family, a good school, an okay job and the town was relatively nice. Well, that was when I was Harry Styles, cute shy lad, who didn't talk much but was known for his good looks and charm. But times change. Now I'm Harry Styles, the gay everyone hates. I came out as gay a year ago. At first, it was all good. I had an amazing boyfriend. My family and friends were supportive and people at school really didn't care enough to take any notice. But when I became depressed, my boyfriend left me and my family wasn't nearly so supportive anymore. People at school had decided that I was useless and should leave the school, so they beat me up on a daily basis. Not that I really cared though. I mean, I know that everything they were saying was true. All of it. Every single word. My mother still cared, though I don't know why, and she moved us to Doncaster to get away from it all and to start fresh. So here we are now.
It was my first day of school. I took a long shower and put on a dark blue blazer over a white t-shirt and black skinny jeans. I looked at my appearance in the long mirror in my room. My wild curls falling all over my face and my green eyes wide with anxiety over starting a new school. This was as good as it was going to get, so I walked downstairs into the kitchen with my bag slung over my shoulder. Gemma, my older sister, was sitting in the kitchen eating breakfast. I greeted her goodmorning and grabbed some cereal quickly stuffing it in my mouth before heading out the door. We only lived a block or two away from the school so I could walk. I walked out the door, and started the ten minute trek to school. I put in my headphones and scrolled through my play list on my iPod, choosing "Pumped Up Kicks" by Foster the People.
Ten minutes later, I walked into the school parking lot. There were two boys standing next to a really nice looking car, the one with dark hair had a cigarette in his hand, and the one with chestnut hair and blue eyes was talking to the dark haired one, laughing and thumping the cars side for emphasis. I wondered what could possibly be so funny. I watched the chestnut haired boy for a while longer. Man was he ever fit! He noticed I was watching them, and looked up at me. He smirked and walked up to me.
"What are you looking at, fagggot?" he asked, a cocky smirk playing on his beautiful lips.
No, how could he know? He can't know... theres no way anyone here could know! He just meant it as an insult... yeah.
"N-nothing," I stuttered out, trying to look away from him.
"Yeah, sure you were," he said, watching my nervous face. "I haven't seen you here before, you new?"
Before I could answer, he slapped my cheek. I cried out, and moved my hand to my stinging cheek.
"Remember, fagggot, I'm the boss, and stop checking me out." With that he walked away, back to his friend, who had watched the whole thing, the grin not faltering from his face once.
I'd moved here to get away from this. But I guess if your as worthless as I am, you deserve it, so it follows you. I sighed and walked away from the boy and his friend, and towards the school building. Once I was in the corridors, I looked at my time table. I had English first. I walked down the halls until I found the right room. I was slightly early. A few other kids were in the room though. I walked to the very back of the classroom and sat at an empty desk. About two minutes later a blonde boy came and sat next to me.
"I'm Niall!" he said enthusiastically, holding out his hand to me.
"Harry," I said shyly, shaking his hand.
"You must be new, I've never seen you before," he said, smiling sincerely at me. He had a strong Irish accent. He seemed nice. Much nicer than that other boy.
"Yeah, I just moved here from Cheshire," I said.
"Cool, what was it like there?" He seemed genuinley interested. That was something new.
"Not too different from here really," I said truthfully. It really wasn't.
He smiled. The teacher walked in at that moment, stopping our conversation. I turned my attention to what the teacher was saying. She was a kind of pretty blonde woman, mid-thirties probably.
"Good morning class, I'm Miss Flack, your substitute English teacher. I will be here for eight weeks, while your other teacher is away on maternity leave," she said.
Miss Flack rambled on for a little while, then started the actual lesson. I got bored halfway through and stopped listening.
As I was leaving the school, I bumped into the boy from earlier. Literally bumped into him. He turned around angirly, and obviously recognising me from this morning, smirked and pulled me up by my collar.
"Watch where you're going fagggot," he said, slamming my back into the wall. He then dropped me and walked off.
I sat on the floor for a little while. I got to my feet and walked out of the doors and started walking home. Most people would have been bothered by his treatment, but honestly, it was nothing new. In fact, what that chestnut haired boy did to me was nothing compared to most people at my old school back home.
I walked into the house. No one was home. Mum and Gemma were still at work and probably would be til about six. I dropped my school bag and ran up to my room. I closed the door and flopped onto my bed. I lay there staring at the wall for a little while. That boy on my mind the whole time. Why was I thinking about him? And why wasn't it in a negative way? I shook my head and got up. I walked into the bathroom and looked around for the razors. I found one and went back to my room, closing the door quickly behind me. I sank to the floor and put my arm across my lap, I took the razor in the opposite hand and ran in along an old scar, opening up a new cut.
The pain was just enough to take my mind off of the things nagging at me. I ran the razor along some more old scars, opening up several different cuts. I closed my eyes and leaned against the door for a few more minutes then walked into the bathroom, and rinsed the blood from my arm. I went back into my room, laying back on the bed, with Louis back on my mind. I closed my eyes tight, wishing that that boy would just get out of my head.