The Water Boy (Narry)

Chapter 13

In fact, I did not see Harry Styles the next day or the day following. Actually, I didn't see anyone. 

As soon as I did my best to stroll casually inside my house, my mum was there to greet me. Her standing there took me completely by surprise and I stumbled in like some sort of drunk. When I took my graceful entrance, my ill-settled stomach lurched forward and I twisted my side. All of my pain came back and my body had to naturally save itself, which included my face wincing and my arms collapsing to hug the wounded areas. I had heard my mum gasp so I quickly dropped my arms and cleared my throat. It took some time to relax my face. Of course, she had asked me what was the matter and I told her it was nothing; an excuse nobody seems to ever believe. The poor frightened woman sent me up to my room and insisted on taking care of me, her overbearing instincts kicking in right away as she watched her son try to get into bed, which was usually an extremely easy task for him. She had me staying home from school until she could figure out from me what exactly had happened.

I didn't want to tell her for so many reasons. I didn't want her to flip shit over this and get more people involved, as some mother's attempt to do in order to bring justice to their children. Those two didn't beat me that badly. It all hurt more than what was there. I also didn't want Louis and Zayn to have more motive against me than the zero they already had. Who knew what they were up to without their punching bag to wail on for two days and I didn't want to know what my homecoming would be like when we were reunited again. They probably should be in trouble but it was my life that I didn't want to risk anymore. 

Now, from sitting in my room I didn't fall into a huge depression. I still felt like me, battered and bruised. I  spent time watching the telly or just thinking. I did loads of thinking. Most of it was just looking back on myself on that day. I could actually envision myself lying on the ground as Louis brought his foot back to slam in into my stomach like a he usually did with a ball. I didn't budge. I didn't make a sound. I appeared dead, which was what I wished to be at that time. I don't think that anymore. I'm actually somewhat okay, maybe between happy and a fucking wreck. I shouldn't be but I am. 

I was getting rather bored and I didn't want to stay home anymore. I was also turning stir-crazy from being in the same room for hours on end, going to sleep and waking up just to do it all over again. I needed to be at school, obviously not to see the faces of Louis and Zayn or the ones staring at me because I looked like I've been mugged.

I let out a sigh and scrunched my face up, groaning as I turned myself over to face one of the walls in  my bedroom. It had a poster of the team's match schedule with the full team picture, me included on the side, and action shots of the boys. Of course, there was one of Harry. How could he not be represented? The school wanted to make him out as their hero, whereas he was somewhat mine. At least, that's how I always wanted to see him as but it took awhile for him to take action on his damsel. 

I missed going out to practice. I never missed one since I started with the team and it partially gave me anxiety not to be there. I wondered how they were getting off without me. Unlike the players, there was no second string position for the water boy because, frankly, nobody wanted the part. I guess I wouldn't make the best argument for their case to take it up either. 

As my eyes wandered over that same poster, my thoughts went back to Harry. Who was he going to talk to during practice since I wasn't there? Who was he going to press himself against as he pointed out things about each of the players? He seemed to enjoy watching them from my point of view and I began thinking that I should be more passionate and fascinated about it. I was, but only about him. It was always about him and never really about me.

He had to be feeling just like I was feeling: caged by limitations. The only thing that we didn't have in common was the fact that he probably wasn't even thinking about me at all. I wanted to be there. I didn't want to be held up in here. I didn't want people to think that I was afraid even though I was. Most of all, I didn't want Harry to know that.