Two more days have gone by and Louis still has not smiled. He sits and looks absolutely distressed as idiots surrounding us make horrible jokes when the teacher left to go make copies of our homework. Two in particular continued whispering slurs to each other, making sure Louis could hear them.

I sit and listen to about five minutes of this rubbish before Louis' voice finally sounds.

"Could you please stop?"

I side-glance at the situation from a few desks away, the tormentors taking Louis' plead as a challenge and Googling more jokes. I bite my lip, watching Louis shake his head and dig into his pockets for ear-buds.

I can't believe the immaturity of people in high-school sometimes. We are one year away from going out into the world and being on our own, yet they're still beating down people who are different. Bullies need hobbies; somewhere they can put all that petty anger and mommy issues aside from another human being.

The one called Elliot reaches forward, ripping the ear-bud from Louis' ear and saying, "Don't ignore us, faggot,"

"Okay," I mutter to myself, standing up. I walk around the desks and make my way to where the two idiots are. The one who threw the word that bothers me most stood to face me.

I hate the word faggot. It's the word I overheard my dad call me when I came out to my parents. Every time I hear it my blood boils a little hotter than usual.

"Mate, just shut up. The only person who likes to hear you talk is yourself. Your cute little gay jokes are making no one but your partner in dildoing laugh, and it is not your place to judge or harass Louis about what you think his sexuality may be. Or for anything,"

I glance down and find shocked eyes and a slightly dropped jaw on Louis. I return my gaze to the bumbling idiot as he tries to create a come-back statement.

"Stay out of it, Styles. You try and act like you're all high and mighty when you're really just a cock-sucker." Elliot replies, nudging his finger-tips forcefully into my shoulders, pushing me back.

I laugh at this. "Don't even pretend like you don't know I could beat you within an inch of you life before you could cry out to your boy-toy over there for back-up."

The second lad who was throwing slurs, Josh, decides to step in now. "Shut the hell up, Harry! You're just mad, you're not gonna do anything."

I shrug. "Yes, I am mad. You need to start leaving people alone, grow up, and mind your own damn business. It's pathetic,"

I take my turn shoving, pushing my palm against Elliot, making him stubble backwards. I don't like to say I'm exceptionally strong, but some of the tricks I've learned on my skateboard take a lot of upper-body strength. Elliot gets all hot and bothered by this, face contorting in anger. At this point, the whole class of spectators is telling us what they want by chanting "Fight! Fight! Fight!".

Elliot pleases the demands of the people by throwing a swing at me. I dodge it and catch his hand, gripping it with all my power and twisting his wrist. He starts yelping as I say, "You are not worth getting suspended over."

I release him from my grip and glance at Louis. He grants me the first grin in days and mouths a 'Thank you'. Before I can even stop my stupid self, I drop my eye in a wink and turn to walk back to my seat.

Why would I just wink at him? I was doing so well, now he's probably freaked out. I hope he sees it as a platonic gesture, and not a flirtatious one.

Wow, I sound like a 5th grader, I think, shaking my head and deciding I need to grow up a bit, too.

_

Surprisingly enough, I got through the rest of the day without a gang of homophobics jumping me for the stunt I pulled in defense of Louis. However, I do get an unexpected visitor at my locker when the last bell sounded and the overly populated wave of children file out of the building to catch their buses.

A small, familiar voice catches my attention from behind me. "Hey... Harry, right?"

I shut my locket, slinging my book-back over my shoulder and grabbing my skateboard. I turned towards Louis, holding my breath. "That's me."

He smiles. He's clad in his football uniform, a jacket and sweatpants covering his jersey and shorts. He's only been on the team for two years and he's co-captain. I've only seen him play once, but he's pretty amazing.

Sometimes I forget how small he actually is, standing about four inches shorter than me. He accommodates for it by being loud; a bit of the Napoleon Complex.

"I wanted to thank you for what you said to those asshats today," Louis spoke with returning sass. It's a bit obsessive how much better I feel when he's himself again. "A good friend made up a rumor about me, and now everyone thinks I'm gay."

He scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. I shrug, still trying to slow down my racing heart before it runs away from me. "I get it. People make up rumors all the time."

"Yeah, it's pointless, really. I wish they'd just... Never mind, I'll stop myself before I rant at you. Thanks, though." Louis cut himself off.

"You wish they'd just stop pretending that every detail of other people's life is their concern?"

Louis wets his lips. "You really do get it, then."

"I've had my fair share of homophobic treatment," I explain, propping my foot up against the locker.

"You just can't trust anyone, can you?"

I want so badly to ask if he really is gay, but that would just make him look at me like everyone else. I nod my head. "Very, very few people in this world are worth confiding in. I've made that mistake before, too. You learn. And, I know how bad it sucks right now, with everyone whispering about you in a negative way. But, trust me, someone is going to get pregnant and it's not going to matter anymore. Don't take anything personally."

Louis lifts his hand and pushes his fringe from his beautiful blue eyes. "I try not to. It's just kind of rubbish how one thing can make everyone turn on me like that. I thought people liked me,"

"People do like you. Just not the ones who use you as breaking news."

Louis grins at me. "You're pretty smart, lad."

I can't help but smile back. "You think?"

"I know. You give better advice than me Nan does. Granted, she is nearing her 70th year on this Earth..."

"I kind of feel like that was a reverse compliment, but I'm going to thank you anyways," I say, and we both chuckle. It is a lot easier to talk to him than I ever imagined.

He glances down at his watch and sighs. "Ah, I'm gonna be late,"

I inwardly frown as he slings his bag over his shoulder and throws me another grin. "We should talk more."

"We should."

"See you around, Harry."

I watch him walk away and wait a few seconds before I allow myself to crash my back against the lockers behind me and break into a huge, stupid smile.

"Bye, Louis."

_

I've been chatting with Louis all week. Nothing too in depth, just between classes, but a bit more than just the regular 'Hey, what's up?' 'Nothing much, you?'.

The more I see him, talk to him, hear his voice, the more I like him. Every time his eyes meet mine, I get this inexplicable feeling of overwhelming happiness and warmth spread throughout my entire body. Just the thought of him makes me feel giddy inside. Everything seemed like it was going really well until I saw him walking down the hall with his arm snaked around Isla Tanner's waist.

Isla is the ditsiest cheerleader on the squad. I'm honestly surprised she made it passed the 9th grade. She has long, wavy brown hair and a pretty, freckled face with giant, deep brown eyes. She's nice enough, but I never had a particular care for her.

I make eye-contact with Louis and he granted me a manufactured smile. I return the gesture as he tries to keep up with his new girlfriend's strutting.

"Looks like Tomlinson grew some facial hair overnight." Zayn comments before taking a swig of the poorly concealed whiskey from his water-bottle. I hold back an eye-roll.

"Guess he's not gay."

Liam lifts an eyebrow at me. "Haz, c'mon. He may be confused, but he's a raging homo."

"You can't just assume things about his sexuality. If he says he's straight, he's straight," I argue, shutting my locker. "If he's got a girlfriend, he's got a girlfriend. Simple as that,"

With that being said, I turn and shuffle down the corridor to first period.

I would never expect something like Louis dating someone else to hurt as much as it does. Even if Isla is a beard, I feel this pang in my chest that he's even pretending to be in a relationship with her.

Louis' a seventeen-year-old lad, and a very attractive one at that. He's going to date people, girls, and I understand that. It's not something I should be jealous about, I have no claim on him. But I can't help it. I hate emotions; there's no logic in them.

I take my seat in first period and open a notebook, starting a writing prompt that Mrs. Margot put up on the white-board. For the first time in a while, boys were herded around Louis again, joking and laughing with him like they hadn't been chastising him for being a homosexual just a day prior. It made me sick to my stomach.

"I guess you aren't Homo Tommo anymore," I mutter under my breath, huffing and training my eyes on my paper.

"Take your seats and get started." Mrs. Margot warns as she types away at her keyboard. The group of minions disperse and sit down at their desks. I glance over to see the very content Louis.

He peers back at me and sends me a wide smile. I give him a half-hearted grin and look away. The broken feeling within me has transformed into anger.

Louis makes me such a stereotypical boy with a crush.

_

"Hey, mate," Louis greets when he sits beside me in history.

"Hi," I return, continuing to scan my eyes along the words of the Order of the Phoenix. I haven't read the Harry Potter books in forever, and I didn't know what else to get at the library. "I noticed you're not a loser anymore. Be careful sitting next to me,"

Louis chuckles, and I laugh along, pretending that I was joking. "I guess having a girlfriend deems me worthy of positive attention again."

"So it would seem. Isla Tanner gives you so much substance as a human being." I turn the page, even though I didn't really read the last one.

Louis sighs. "I know it kind of makes me a tool, but it's better than being shoved between two people hearing 'What do you call a gay guy in a wheelchair? Roll-aids!'."

"I can't argue. I'm guessing you aren't really that fond of your new girl, then?"

Louis shrugs. "We've been friends a while. She's nice."

My lips curl into a smirk. "She's nice?"

"Shut it, Harry." He shakes his head as I chuckle. "I like her. Going out with her also shows people I am in fact straight."

"What's it matter, really?" I ask.

I watch as Louis fills out the homework paper from last night and hitch my breath when his hand brushes against mine. I leave it there, hoping that the accident will occur again.

"It's not that I care what people think of me, per say, but I don't like being treated like an outsider. So it matters in that way. It wouldn't matter as much if people weren't so fake and judgmental."

"Doesn't pretending to like a girl so you appear less gay kind of make you a common denominator?"

Louis lets out a huff and peers up at me, accidentally making me crazy when he looks in my eyes. "I never said I was proud of this. I like her enough."

"You make me sad, Louis."

He gives me a confused look. "Sad?"

"Sad." I repeat, then turn my attention to our science teacher as the lesson begins.

Zayn, Liam and I sit in my living room, watching television and eating some food we picked up from a petrol station on the way home from school. We spent the majority of the walk listening to Liam whine about some fit American exchange student.

"So, I'm not sure if Isla is a beard, but Louis definitely isn't overly interested in her." I say, Zayn laughs.

"No way," He says sardonically.

"It just pisses me off. He's such an amazing person, yet people make him feel like he has to be something that he's not to be liked."

"It's kind of on him. He doesn't have to pretend," Liam counter-claims.

"True, but then again, people who are pushed to the limit by bullies don't have to kill themselves. It doesn't make what the people are doing to them right; making them feel like there's no other way out of it all."

"That's why everyone needs some of this." Zayn speaks, unzipping his book-bag and pulling out a bag full of marijuana.

"Mate, yes, it's been ages," Liam says as Zayn rolls a blunt.

"Guys, could you not do that in my house?" I ask, biting a lip.

Zayn shoots me an annoyed look. "Seriously, Styles?"

I sigh. "I don't want my mum to think I'm doing that stuff..."

"Your mum's cool, mate, she won't care. Just tell her it was a one time thing," Liam tries to come up with the solution while Zayn is indignant.

"Or you can stop acting so pretentious and accept the fact that you're white trash."

I let out another dramatic huff, shaking my head. "Do what you want."

"I will." Zayn replies coldly before flicking his lighter.

I quite dislike this side of my friends. I blame it on the addictive drugs they've chosen to pollute themselves with, but nonetheless it's hard to deal with. I miss when we just used to have fun and do kid stuff. Now it's all about being the thug-like losers. I suppose we have to fit a stereotype just like everyone else.

I hate it.