He's br[ok]en be[cause] he be[lie]ve[d] (Larry Stylinson PAFP)

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⊹Bᴇᴀᴜᴛʏ⊹

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A slender boy walked through the small crowds of dispersing people, his eyes guarded and dark. They were blue, a bright blue that almost became gray in some areas, like he held the sky and the clouds just before it began to storm within his eyes. He had a beanie, gray to match the rest of his dark gloomily colored clothing, lazily placed atop his head to protect his ears and most of his head from the slightly chilly day he was forced to face outside. His button nose had become a near Rudolph red due to the nipping winds that bit and clawed lightly at any exposed skin, or maybe that was just his body overreacting to the cold. His small, pixie hands had been shoved into the pockets of the jacket he had buttoned all the way up to keep the slight breeze from entering his only layer of protection, and his feathered, chestnut hair was being combed by the wind. All in all, he looked rather weather-beaten and weak, and even so, he still held an unlined, baby face with him that exposed his young age. It also showed in the innocence and naivety in his eyes, but there was also age that showed behind his eyes, a certain point of wisdom that said that he's been through stuff that most his age hadn't. That he knew things most wouldn't expect someone so seemingly innocent and untouched by the world should know.

This boy was known as Louis, Louis Tomlinson. Although he was admittedly beautiful in so many ways, and unintentionally sexy in others-like in the way he moved, or his body that he deemed wasn't anything special-he was ignored. People had once been attracted to him, when he had first moved here a few years back. He was the shiny new toy and everyone wanted a turn with it, but like all new toys in a group of children, he was soon worn out and became old news. He had never really talked to anyone. He was a bit different then. Louis smiled a little more back then. He seemed just a little more broken now, a little more fear stricken...a little more lost within himself.

He had been innocently shuffling through the crowd, trying to avoid making any contact with others. Louis had always seemed to have something against having social interactions of any kind with anyone, even those apart of his family, as there was no exceptions to the fear that made him go weak in the knees every time he glanced up to see a new face before him. Even when someone simply looked at him, he shrunk down as if the intensity of the stares were wearing him down more than he already was. He'd duck his head as if to avoid the curious gazes thrown at him, which would make them more curious, and he'd freeze until they grew bored and left him be. That was, until he bumped into someone. Louis wanted to scream out, not only because someone dare touch him (even if he hadn't said aloud that no one was allowed to, he was pretty certain that "keep your hands to yourself" was something people had been told since Preschool) but because now one of his fresh, open wounds purposely slit into his skin had been harshly slammed into by another body, causing it to sting like a million wasps. He yelped, the salty tears instantly rising in his eyes as he jumped up-only to collide into something else, or should he say, someone else. His throat tightened. He had backed up, trying to get away, when the obviously older man grabbed his hand, rubbing his knuckles in what was obviously meant to be soothing, but was nothing more than alarming to the young lad. He felt his breath hitch. He felt his heart rate pick up. He felt his spine stiffen in fear and his lips curl in a frown. To say that he was surprised would be an understatement. He was completely shocked and alerted by the new development of the day. "I-I'm not cry-cr-crying..." Louis stuttered, his voice wavering with fear, although he tried to contain it. Louis not only had the fear of other people, but rape, and rape was usually performed by men, and therefore, he was more afraid of other men then women. Besides, this one in particular, although good looking, reminded him of something that haunted him so badly just by the way he looked. "It's just...the wi-wind and....please let me go." He croaked out, letting out another shaky, fearful breath.

[thankies! xx And sorry it's so long, my muse has sucked all day and then BAM! I could write like a whole novel right now. XD]

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Louis had just been about to walk away. He wanted to run, scream, cry....but he knew that was impolite to do, and he really didn't want to come across as rude. Best not to get on someone's bad side that was obviously so much bigger and stronger than him. Before he could get anywhere though, he saw the flash of bright electricity streak across the sky, and the low growling of the thunder afterwards. The young lad couldn't help but physically cringe at the sound. It was like nails on a chalk board to him and it made him want to chop his own ears off, just so the sound would remain unheard by him. His round, doe like eyes went wide with alarm, and once again, he was being touched, which made it all the more worse. He didn't want someone to comfort him. He didn't want to be by anyone at all. He wanted to go home, make himself some hot chocolate that was dotted with the occasional marshmallow, and sit in his bed, snuggled up to one of his stuffed teddy bears and sit tight until the storm was over. Maybe he'd even turn the Tv on and turn it all the way up to drown out the sound, or put in some earphones and turn some music up to block out the noise and get some relief flowing through his veins, because music somehow always found someway to make him feel better about his current situation.

The hold made his cuts sting, old or new, it didn't matter. They still hurt and the pain surged through his entire body, making him once again yelp in pain and fear as he was forcibly tugged to underneath the shelter of the building like a rag doll. His blue eyes narrowed slightly at the older man, and if he had the courage, he would have spit at his feet and thrown his jacket back at him-even though the gesture was surprisingly sweet despite who had performed him. Maybe he was quick to judge, but he had connected this man to something that hurt him, and therefore all his horrible, locked up feelings from his past was now being taken out on him. He could practically feel the unreasonable hate brewing in the pit of his stomach. He was judging this man for another's mistakes, and that was hardly fair, but he looked so much like him-Louis shrieked as more thunder sounded, and he covered his ears, shrinking back as he pulled the leather jacket tighter around him as if it would shelter him from the storm. "Ju-just le-let me go...please, I don-don't need your jacket." He murmured, sucking in as more tears wet his eyes. "I'm fine.."

Louis' eyes widened from the entire encounter. Could he not have a normal day in peace without any sudden interruptions, especially of things he's terrified of? Honestly, he would have preferred it to have been starving, stray dogs that had the chances of rabies to this. This was simply all too much to handle so close together. It was storming, he was surrounded by people and for once, they chose to acknowledge him. But not in a positive way. Slut? Prostitute? He felt a few tears slip down his cheeks. Louis shivered, but not from the chills the cool breezes gave his small, easily chilled body. It was because of the icy, cold meaning behind the man's eyes as he tried to punch him. Why wouldn't he just leave him alone? He distinctively remembered that he had told him to leave, to never come back and yet he never listened. It was like Louis spoke, but all his words fell upon deaf ears. No one had the respect to follow his wishes, not even the man that saved him. If he had respected what Louis wanted, he wouldn't have pulled him under here. He would have just let him go. He didn't want to be like Cinderella-he could save himself just fine. "Goddammit, just leave me the hell alone!" He sniffled, rubbing at his eyes. The whispers made his heart thump harshly against his ribs, and he had to resist the urge to turn roughly on his heels and walk away. He didn't need this. Not today. Any day but today, at least. He took a few steps back, his hands trembling and his knees felt like they'd give out at any moment and betray him. Louis knew one thing for sure. He just had to get out of here. That man, the one who he assumed was "Harry" but he still wasn't quite sure, seemed like he'd have quite a few friends almost as menacing as he. He didn't want to be here when they showed up, or for more drama to find him. Was must things always be like this when he's around? He was only good for screwing things up and letting his bad luck spread to everyone and everything that he touched with his cursed hands.

Now, Louis was afraid of other people. But the way that man sulked and the hurt that flashed in his eyes, it reminded him of the pain that he felt so often. Of course he was trying to help, but he wasn't. Louis was terrified of him, and the way the crowd stared at him. Louis was terrified of the way he was able to beat that man to the ground when he was so much bigger than him. He was terrified of the way that Harry reminded him off all the things that made him into the boy that he was today. The events that both shaped and scarred him for the rest of his life. That was his eternity. To be that poor little boy that lived for nothing, and died for nothing as well. That poor boy that never had any friends and died alone, pathetic....ugly....that died just himself. Some would say that that was a good thing, Louis disagreed. He wanted to be someone else. Someone who wasn't a coward and allowed the fears he had control him and his life. He wanted to be brave, a hero, he wanted to be the one that saved the day and everyone, including himself. That would never happen. No one would come to his aid either, considering that he pushed everyone away. He was too afraid to let anyone else in and see him for who he truly was, is, and will be. He sucked in a deep breath, and bolted off down the street. There was no reason for him to be here. And all the while, he couldn't help but think, how bad is it going to be at home?

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⊹Bᴇᴀᴜᴛʏ⊹

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⊹Bᴇᴀᴜᴛʏ⊹

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