"Um, excuse me." Harry spoke quietly and politely as he tried to step around an old man to get into the Beachwood Café.

The man just grunted, turning to look Harry up and down.

"Sorry, I just need to um-"

"Ah, so you're obviously the faggot." His voice was roughly, looking Harry up and down with a smirk that was half disgusted and half amused.

"What?" Harry frowned.

"You're the new faggot on the island." He repeated.

"I'd just like to get in there please." He mumbled, eyes flitting to the ground. Quickly he tried to get around the man- who he assumed was Mr French- but got shoved back.

He stumbled a bit, feeling the anxiety begin to rise up in his stomach.

"Nobody wants people like you on the island." He growled.

"I think it's the opposite." Harry said, trying to make sure he didn't appear too scared.

"What did you say? You're disgusting, and what the fuck are you wearing?"

"Clothes."

"You're just asking to be beaten up. Stop trying to act tough, you're just a pathetic freak."

"I haven't asked for anyone to beat me up, and my clothes can't speak for me. I dress like this because I feel comfortable in these clothes. At least I don't wear the same jumper every single day."

"You don't have the right to talk to me like that. You have to respect your elders." He moved a cigarette up to his mouth, obviously smirking.

"No I don't. Not when they treat me like shit because I'm different to them."

Mr French looked around before gripping Harry's wrist tightly. Harry yelped, trying to yank it back.

"Get off of me." Harry whimpered.

"Does anybody care about you, fag? Parents? Siblings? Friends?"

"Get off of me." Harry repeated, gritting his teeth as he struggled to get away.

His wrist was suddenly free and Harry looked around, noticing people had stopped to stare.

"Just let me into the café, that's all I want."

"Nobody cares about you. Your parents hate you-"

"You're a twat. You don't know me and you have no right to make assumptions about me or my family."

"I'm right though, aren't I?" He tossed the cigarette to the ground, stomping on it, "nobody likes people like you."

Harry couldn't stop it any longer and his eyes filled with tears. He walked back, turning quickly and pushing through the small crowd that had now gathered.

As he stumbled away he heard people's voices begin to raise, and over them all he heard Barbara yelling at Mr French.

But he couldn't stop, he was on the verge of having a full blown panic attack and he'd rather have that away from everyone.

He couldn't really see, nor could he breathe, but he kept going until he got to the quiet cliff, collapsing into a heap dropping his head down.

He dug his palms into his eyes, trying desperately to breathe. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Not even 5 minutes later he felt arms wrap around him, and he tensed up. Everything was too much, his eyes were blurry, his hearing was muffled and he still felt as if he was choking on air.

"Harry, shh, it's okay. I heard what happened and Barbara told me which way you went. You're gonna be okay." And suddenly he was being slowly rocked from side to side and Louis moved to hold him closer.

Louis's comforting scent surrounded him and he immediately felt safer. And even if it was only for a second, he truly believed everything would be okay.

"H, you're okay." Louis repeated, "it's just me. You're safe."

After a while Harry's breaths evened out slightly, and he began to take in his surroundings.

Louis kept him close, but loosened his grip slightly, though Harry subconsciously pressed closer against him- needing to feel safe just a while longer.

"I'm sorry-" He spoke quietly, his voice cracking.

"You have nothing to be sorry for."

"But I-I just had a panic attack and I-uh-"

"You have nothing to be sorry for." Louis repeated. "Okay?"

"Okay." He sighed.

"I'm going to give that cunt a piece of my mind." Louis muttered, though it came out as more of a growl.

"No, please don't make a deal out of it. I don't want people to talk about me."

"Harry, he gave you a panic attack."

"It-it wasn't him-" Harry shook his head, "I mean it was, but I-I've heard it before, and it was the people staring and talking that properly freaked me out. I really, really can't cope with people." He sighed again.

"People won't hear about it, okay? I'll make sure. I just need him to know how much I hate him."

"But Barbara has already done that."

"As she should. Look, I can't just let him get away with being such a fucking dick."

Harry bit his lip and looked down. "Okay." He said quietly.

"Thank you. Do you wanna go home and watch the second Pirates of the Caribbean?"

Harry shrugged and Louis stood up, helping Harry up before pulling him into another hug.

"You give really nice hugs." Harry mumbled.

"I'm glad. If you ever need a hug- even of you don't wanna say why- just come and hug me. I'll have no objections."

Harry nodded against Louis's shoulder, though he couldn't ever take Louis up on that offer. It was far too embarrassing when Louis saw him like this by accident, so if he allowed Louis to know on his own accord, he was practically signing himself up for ridicule.

//

"Cats." Louis strolled into the room,, a cat under each arm.

"That's lovely." Harry looked up, placing his tea down.

"For you." Louis added, placing both cats by Harry.

"Thank you." Harry's hands immediately drifted to their fur.

"I'm going to go and shout at someone and when I get back we're going to paint."

"What?"

"Me, you, paint. I'm absolutely fucking shit at it, but it'll be funny."

"Oh," Harry's face lit up and he looked positively delighted, "yeah, okay. Yeah."

"Sick. I'll see you later." Louis began to pull on his coat, "I won't be long."

"Shall I get the paints and stuff together?"

"Yeah, but not if they're expensive ones, I probably have some cheap ones I can use."

"It's okay, I'll go and get them ready now." Harry placed one cat over each shoulder- god knows how they stayed- and bounded upstairs, the tea long forgotten.

Louis shook his head with a smile, tugging his shoes on before leaving to hunt down the dickhead.

He entered the Beachwood Café, Barbara looking over as the bell chimed, "hello darling."

"Hi Barbs, wanna come shout at Frenchie with me?"

"Of course, I'll be there in a second." She nodded, turning to call somebody to take over for her before taking her apron off and joining Louis. "How shaken up is he?"

"I think he's okay ish now, but all the people earlier didn't help." He told her, leaving out the fact that Harry had had a panic attack. He didn't think Harry would appreciate people knowing.

"Well let's go and give him a piece of our mind."

"Let's go."