I will never understand why people can't comprehend the concept of wanting to be left alone. If you don't say you want to be left alone but you act like you do, you get constantly bombarded with the overbearing question of 'Are you okay?'. But, if you do actually say you want to be left alone, whoever's asking gets offended and you have to get over yourself long enough to comfort them when you were the one hurt in the first place.

Mum can tell something's wrong the second I step in the door. I think mother's develop a sixth sense when they have kids that gives them the keen ability to always know when something's wrong.

"What's wrong, Haz?"

I shake my head and toss my book-bag onto the threadbare armchair. I tromp into the kitchen to grab a glass of water with my head still reeling with all that transpired. I feel almost ill.

Mum shadows me with a worried expression etched into her features. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, don't worry about it," I breathe after inhaling a half-glass of disappointingly warm water.

"Did something happen with Louis?"

Hearing his name strikes a nerve. I grit my teeth. "I said I'm fine. Please,"

I feel only slightly guilty when I push past her and speed to my room, which I used to share with my sister. Thankfully that is no longer the case. I shut the white-painted wooden door and block out the world. My brain is still turning, even faster than my stomach and I take the weight off my feet, laying in my bed. It takes everything I have not to scream all the swear words I know.

I start to second guess myself. Maybe I was too hard on Louis; I know how much it can hurt to be called a freak or faggot or useless or disgusting, and to be treated like an outcast. I also love Louis, and I would be called all of those things and get beaten up daily if it meant I got to be with him.

It hurts that I don't mean as much to him.

Kissing him remains the best feeling in the world, contrariwise. I fantasied about those lips on mine since the first time I saw them, and it was better than words. It was like having the weight of the world lifted off my shoulders. It's funny how just pressing my lips against his can do that; make me feel alive again.

My five minutes of peace are interrupted by a light tap on the door, followed by the entry of my mother. I sigh. "I said I'm fine."

"Harry, I'm on your side. You can talk to me,"

"Nothing's wrong, Mum. I've just got a headache."

She scowls at me. "I don't appreciate you lying to me. Tell me what's going on,"

I'm getting very frustrated at this point; all my rage and sadness bubbling inside my chest. I feel my eyes fill with water again. "Mum, please, I just need to be alone."

"At least let me know what's going on-"

"Mum, please leave me alone!"

She looks hurt. I don't think I've ever uttered those words to her. She rubs her hands together and frowns. "Alright."

I stop choking back the tears when I hear the lock click again. I bury face in a pillow and sob over Louis Tomlinson. I don't care if that makes me weak, or girly, or anything. It hurts, and I need to cry. And possibly never go to school again.

_

"How are you, Harry?" Dad ventures to make awkward conversation as we roll out of the driveway of my home. My arms are crossed and my eyes are fixed out the window, and I plan to stay this way until we get to whatever restaurant he swears I told him is my favorite.

I shrug. "Fine."

A few moments of silence ensues before he tries again. The scenery of our small town falls around me like a movie scene. I like to pretend I'm in one when I'm driving sometimes.

"How'd your studying go?"

"Just fine."

The only reason I even exited my room was to please Mum. It still feels like I left my heart and anything else I had right beside the stream in mine and Louis' secret place to hide away from everything. I suppose it's returned to being just my place.

I hate the world. If it weren't for society tying weights to everyone's ankles and mocking them for trying to break free, I would have a boyfriend right now, and we would love each other very much and kiss in public. But Louis cares more about conforming to the artificial mold that was crafted to make sure no one is truly themselves that he doesn't want to be seen with me in a romantic way. It's 50 shades of bullshit.

"Just fine? Didn't you go with that boy you like," Dad says, catching me way off guard.

I turn to him. "You haven't got to pretend that you care about your faggot son's love life. We'll go to this place, have dinner, and then go home. You can still make yourself look like a good dad, I don't really care, but please do not try to belittle my intelligence by pretending that you care about what's going on in my life. You at least owe me that."

I face the window again. Dad doesn't say anything for a minute. "When did you become so bitter?"

I scoff. "When did you leave?"

"I know this is hard for you, Harry, but-"

"No, you don't know," I interject. I have so much anger inside of me. I wish I was anywhere but a car with my dad with this urge to pound my fists against a hard surface. Right now the left side of my father's face is appearing like a perfectly good canvas for releasing my indignation. "You don't know anything about me."

"I know more than you think. My dad left, too."

"Guess I get to be part of the club, then. Cheers,"

"Would you stop? I know what you're going through," Dad assures me, wetting his lips and staring at the traffic ahead. "I know how it feels."

My jaw clenches along with my fists. "Then why would you do it to me?"

"Your mum and I just had too many differences, Haz. About everything, and it would've been more cruel to make you stay with two opposing forces like that." He tries to justify. It only causes me more wrath.

"Bullshit. You got tired of your high-school sweetheart and your two failed abortions- one of which is gay, you found a rich lady that's easy to manipulate and you left. That's what happened, and don't you dare try to say any of it was Mum's fault."

"You should really stop acting like you know everything, son. You're seventeen years old. You have a lot to learn about this world."

"I may not know everything, but I know enough. Why'd you even ask to take me to dinner?"

He lets out a long sigh as he turns into a quaint diner that appears vaguely familiar. I haven't been here in ages, and I'm baffled as to how Dad even remembers this place.

"Believe it or not; adults feel guilty, too."

_

I eat my food with caution, although it's like gold to me. Mum and I have had neither the occasion or finances to eat out in what has to be months. Dad and I haven't talked much yet, but I don't expect riveting conversation to arise after our slight controversy.

"So, do you want to talk about what happened today? Your mum says you came home very upset," Dad inquires, sipping on his tea. I try not to roll my eyes.

"You don't wanna know."

The man turns his head to the side, as if pouting like a child. His eyes that I inherited bore into mine like all lawyers seem to have the power to do. "I asked for a reason, lad."

With attitude, I push my plate forward and lace my fingers around each other. "Fine. Today, I was with Louis and I was talking to him about how dreadful I feel. He told me I was special and that he believes in me and it made me blush and I accidentally told him that I love him. It turns out he feels the same, and I kissed him. God, he's got amazing lips. They're so soft and they taste like his lip balm. It felt so great; if he were here right now I'd just snog him and find out what his tongue tastes like, too-"

"Enough," Dad shot at me, peering around to make sure no one around us heard my attempt to make him squirm. "Why is this a bad thing?"

I stare down at my plate, and my disrespect and anger dwindles as I think about the situation. "He said he doesn't want people to know about us because he's scared of being harassed for it."

My appetite leaves my body along with my spunk, and I silently drink my water as Dad struggles to find a response. I can't remember him ever being great with words; a trait he and my sister share. Gemma always failed to tell Mum how she felt and what was going on. And more importantly, where she was going and what she was doing alone with various blokes.

"You know, when your mum and I found out she was pregnant with Gem at 16, it was a very, very big secret. When she started showing and people found out, she was called a number of obscene things, and I was called a fair amount as well. It's hard to have something noteworthy about you in high-school; it brings negative attention."

"Yes, but Louis and I being together and Mum getting pregnant is completely different. One's a mistake and the other is who I am. It's not right to be judged for either one, but it isn't the same thing,"

"You're missing the point," He says and uses the square, wooden table to support his elbows. "No matter what you do; someone is always going to judge you. You do well in school and you're a nerd. You do poorly in school and you're stupid. You wear baggy pants and ride a skateboard and you're white trash. You put on a football uniform and you have no substance. Nothing you do will ever please everyone. And I know I don't understand your sexuality, and you get defensive when I try, but if that's what's different about you, then just forgot whoever disagrees. You've got to make Louis see that somehow."

I'm taken aback by this. My father actually makes a little bit of sense, and is attempting to have meaningful conversation with me? Maybe I killed myself and this is some weird kind of nirvana.

"I wish that was easier. I don't think I even really want to talk to him. I'm hurt."

Dad nods, wiping the corner of his lips with a napkin. "Love is never easy, son. The sooner you accept that the better off you'll be."

For the first time after being forced to bond with my father since he left, I don't come home completely exasperated. I haven't come anywhere near forgiving him for what he's done to my mother and I but I can't deny finding a sliver of respect for what the man had to say. I crawl into bed that night with my mind swarming with a million thoughts and the dread of waking up and going to school the next day.

Humiliated is one word to describe how I feel when I inadvertently peer up at Louis. I vowed I wouldn't, but the force of habit overcomes the pact I erected in my mind prior to being assaulted with his presence.

He looks like a beautiful disaster; dark circles under his diamond blue eyes and a somber expression coloring his face. Louis wears his heart on his sleeve, and his disheveled appearance certainly points to him having some sort of turmoil. I selfishly hope it's me that's bothering him. At least I'd know he really does care.

Louis catches me when I glance over at him. The very first and last time I decide to have this terrible mistake is the time he's waiting for it. My heart drops to my scrotum and I feel like tearing my eyeballs out of their sockets. I swallow the lump in my throat and make a point to gaze ahead for the rest of the period.

When I notice it's time to head out of class, I hastily seize my pitiful iPod nano and ear buds from the pocket of my lose-fitting jeans. The bell blares through the building and I swiftly stand, gathering my items and turning my shuffle on. My breath hitches in the back of my throat when I feel Louis' small hand against my shoulder on exiting class.

"Harry, can we please-"

I shake his hand off me before he can finish his sentence and briskly amble to my next classroom. If I'm sure of anything in life, it is that I am not ready to speak with him again.

Just to make matters worse, the first song that comes on my shuffle is How To Save a Life. I melt into my seat and drown in faintly traumatic memories.

_

"Wow, what a dick..." Liam attempts to understand why Louis is no longer welcome at our lunch table. This is one of the few times I find myself missing Zayn. I feel even emptier without a third member at the table.

I shrug. "He's not a dick. He's just scared."

"My bad. Wow, what a pussy."

I grant him a soft chuckle as my eyes fix on a spot on the ground. "I just wish nobody cared what went on and we could do what we wanted without getting judged."

"I feel like that may have saved a lot of people from doing a lot of stupid things."

"Why does it have to matter so much? What I say, what I do, who I date, how I feel; how does all of that effect anyone else? How does it effect anyone else that Louis likes me? He'd get kicked off of the football team for it. Why is that widely accepted?"

Liam knit his eyebrows together. "Maybe it won't be one day. When people start being brave,"

I rub my face and feel pangs of sadness erupt in my chest. "I wish Louis could be brave for me."

"So do I. Then I wouldn't have to hear you whine about it while I'm trying to eat," Liam retorts, giving me a wink to make sure I know he's joking. I do, but I still don't think it's very funny.