Here it is! I’ve had the second half of this chapter written for a while, so it’s nice to finally post it haha. Let me know what you think!
Read all parts here. Read it on ao3.
“You know what I miss?” Louis prompted from where he sat at the desk in the boys’ cabin. It was just him and Harry in the room, with Niall having gone off to shower and Liam and Zayn not yet back from the therapist’s office. “Me mum’s cooking.”
“Oh, me too!” Harry agreed! He was sprawled out on his bed with a book, deciding to read a bit until lights out. As much as he’d rather have been taking advantage of their time alone, he knew that a counselor would be around for cabin check soon. He guessed their kisses would have to wait until later when they were snuggled together in his bed.
“You don’t even know my mum,” Louis teased, turning to grin at Harry. “When did you try her cooking?” Harry gave him a look like he was pretending to be annoyed.
“I meant my own mum, you arse.” Louis snickered before turning back to the desk. He had his workbook and various papers spread out in front of him, trying to review his notes and all of the work he had done so far while at the camp. “What I wouldn’t do for a bowl of spaghetti right about now.”
“Mm, I was thinking more along the lines of a nice roast,” Louis said, thumbing through some pages. “But I’d settle for anything besides the junk they’ve been feeding us.” Harry nodded, though Louis’ back was to him.
“They rarely give us anything good. They didn’t even let us toast marshmallows over the fire the other night!”
“Oh, I would die for a marshmallow right now,” Louis said dramatically. It was a few hours past dinner, but the boy felt like he was starving again. One thing he certainly was not getting used to at camp was the lack of snacks. The staff had them on a strict three meal schedule with very little wiggle room, and Louis was used to having constant access to the fridge when he was home.
Harry giggled before shifting to reach into the suitcase under his bed. “Would you settle for a Twinkie?” Louis spun around in his chair to meet Harry’s eyes, which were sparkling mischievously as he held up the wrapped snack cake.
“Where did that come from?!” the older boy demanded, shocked to find that Harry had just materialized it out of nowhere. “I haven’t had a Twinkie since they served them to us the first day here!” He got up from the desk and scurried over to Harry, plopping down next to him as his friend began opening the treat.
“I know,” Harry said with a laugh, breaking the cake in half to share with Louis. “I kept mine and snuck it back here.” He took a bite of the piece he kept for himself.
“And you’ve been holding out on me all this time?!” Louis mumbled cheekily around the food in his mouth. Harry chuckled with a shrug as they continued to eat their snack.
“You know,” Louis said a few moments later as he popped the last of the sweet in his mouth. “Twinkies are a pretty ironic thing for them to give us here.” Harry cocked his head.
“Why’s that?” he asked, crushing up the wrapper and hiding it back in his suitcase.
“Because twinks are what they call young boyish gay guys, and that’s what this camp is full of!” Louis shrieked, grabbing his stomach as he laughed.
Harry laughed too before adding to the metaphor. “Plus, Twinkies look like dicks, and they’re full of cream!”
Louis snorted. “Not sure what dicks you’ve been looking at, but mine definitely does not look like a Twinkie.”
”Prove it,” Harry said flirtatiously, a reckless glint in his eye. Louis stopped laughing as he began blushing in the awkward silence that filled the room. Harry reached forward to playfully tickle Louis’ side, but Louis stood quickly and headed back to the desk.
Harry sighed to himself as he was met with Louis’ back. The two had only fooled around together once, and for some reason, it seemed to Harry that Louis didn’t want to repeat it. Whenever Harry made a cheeky joke, Louis got weirdly quiet, and if Harry tried anything while they were kissing, Louis stopped him.
Harry was never one to force someone to go further than they wanted to, but he couldn’t help but worry why Louis always shut him down when it seemed to have gone so well the first time. The curly-haired boy wondered if he was bad at it or if he had done something wrong. He decided that maybe now was the time to ask.
“Have you seen this?” Louis spoke before Harry could open his mouth. He turned back to Harry with a piece of paper that he had just retrieved from the folder they were given their first day. “There’s a mixer next week.”
Harry furrowed his brow. “A mixer? With whom?”
“Apparently there’s a camp like this for girls down the road,” Louis read. It hadn’t occurred to either boy that there were girls like them trying to become straight, but Louis supposed that it made sense. Girls could be gay too, and there must be parents who weren’t happy about it or girls who chose to try and change. “Apparently we’re each getting paired with someone to take part in camp activities together.”
“Ew,” Harry exclaimed. “Like a weird arranged marriage.” He didn’t like the idea of this mixer at all. He could only imagine the types of activities they would have to do. Would they be forced to hold hands? Would they have to kiss? He made a mental note to ask Zayn about it later. His roommate was always good at giving some insight as to what to expect since he had been through it all so many times before.
A moment later, Liam burst into the cabin.
“Hey, Liam,” Louis said, tucking his papers back into his folder. “Where’s Zayn?”
Liam stormed over to his dresser, angrily opening the top drawer and tearing clothes out of it. “Who cares?” The other two boys exchanged a confused glance and then watched in awkward silence as Liam threw his clothing into his suitcase.
“What are you doing, mate?” Harry dared to question. The scene somewhat reminded him of when he had packed his own bag after a therapy session. It wasn’t quite as packed anymore; he had pulled a clean outfit out of it every day in the morning, so his bag was looking a bit empty these days. Harry would fill it again though. Eventually. He still wanted to leave. He wondered if Liam was packing for the same reason.
“I’m switching cabins,” Liam stated matter-of-factly. “It’s been real, lads, but I have to move on.” Louis frowned, rather confused by Liam’s words. Was cabin switching even allowed? He knew there was another cabin of sixteen-year-olds that Liam could maybe swap with. Did that mean they would get a new roommate? Louis quite liked the dynamic that the five of them had built together, and he didn’t know how someone new would fit in.
“Now?” Louis questioned. “It’s late. The other cabins are probably settled in already.” Liam paused, considering this. He honestly didn’t want to spend one more minute in the same space as Zayn, and he knew that the darker boy would be back at any minute. His friend did have a point though.
“Stay the night, at least,” Harry said, trying to sound convincing. “You can talk to the head counselors tomorrow about switching.”
Liam huffed a sigh, kicking off his shoes. “Fine.” He walked to the light switch and flipped it off, leaving his friends in the dark, before he climbed into his bed. If he had to share a bunk with Zayn one more time, he would make sure he was asleep before he got back and out of there before Zayn woke up in the morning.
~
“What do you mean you kissed him?”
Zayn ignored the voice in his ear that was coming from the boy he was currently wrapped around, a lad named Grayson from the cabin next to his. They stood by the wall inside one of the bathrooms, involved in what Zayn was hoping would turn into something more than just necking. He was in desperate need of a shag, a blow, a distraction, and while Grayson wasn’t necessarily his first choice, Zayn figured this was better than nothing. The two had hooked up the year prior, and it was nice to have a familiar body to fondle.
Zayn didn’t answer the lad’s question, instead choosing to continue sucking against Grayson’s neck, careful not to leave a visible mark that would get him in trouble. He hadn’t meant to tell Grayson about his kiss with Liam, and he certainly hadn’t meant to tell him at this exact moment, but Grayson was always chattering away, and he’d asked why Zayn seemed so off.
“I kissed Liam,” Zayn had said, not thinking clearly, instantly regretting it the second the words left his mouth. It wasn’t that he was worried that Grayson would tell or even that he’d get jealous. It was just not something Zayn was planning on telling anyone, and it definitely wasn’t the kind of thing he’d meant to season their foreplay with.
“Liam Liam?” Grayson asked, as if to clarify who Zayn was talking about. “The nervous lad from your cabin?” His hands were lazily dragging through the hair at the back of Zayn’s head as he spoke.
“Yeah,” Zayn replied quickly, his own hands clawing up the back of Grayson’s shirt as his lips moved to mouth at his mate’s collar bone.
“When?”
Zayn huffed with annoyance, his hot breath bouncing off of Grayson’s skin and hitting his own face. “Earlier,” he said, wishing the kid would shut up already. “Now would you hush?” He reached down to fiddle with Grayson’s trousers in attempts to pull them open.
“But,” Grayson protested as Zayn kissed back up his neck. “Why?”
“Because I can’t concentrate while you’re talking,” he growled in Grayson’s ear. He was starting to remember why the two had only fooled around once the previous summer.
“No,” Grayson corrected, shaking his head slightly. “I mean... Why’d you kiss Liam?”
Zayn halted his lips and hands with a deep exhale, resting his forehead against the boy’s shoulder. It was a damn good question, one that Zayn didn’t have an answer to. He hadn’t meant to kiss his bunk mate; he really hadn’t. But there was something about the way Liam’s hands clung to Zayn like he was the only thing keeping him together and the way Liam’s eyes twinkled in the moonlight (or maybe it was just his tears playing tricks)... Zayn had just been drawn to him as if he had jumped off a platform and was zip lining down a cable towards the other boy at rapid speed, unable to change directions before his lips met Liam’s.
“I don’t know,” Zayn finally replied. “Because I’m a prat, probably.” He couldn’t deny that kissing Liam was incredibly stupid. It could ruin their friendship, the trust that Liam had built in Zayn, the progress that the quieter boy had made in coming out of his shell... From the slap that had landed across Zayn’s face, it was clear that the kiss had very quickly steered things south, and not in the way Zayn’s kisses normally did with other blokes.
“Yeah, you are,” Grayson laughed, agreeing that Zayn had been dumb. “Idiot.”
Zayn pulled his body away while shoving Grayson’s against the wall by his shoulders. “Are we doing this or not?” he asked, searching Grayson’s face to see if he was even the slightest bit interested in messing around.
Grayson bit his lip as a grin spread across his face, his expression teasing Zayn in a way that made him want to scream with frustration. “Alright,” the boy said flirtatiously as he tugged at Zayn’s belt loops, pulling their hips together. He breathed against Zayn’s lips daringly. “If you insist.”
Zayn hummed lowly with satisfaction but covered it up by clearing his throat. “Good,” he hissed, biting his friend’s jaw as he jammed his hand down Grayson’s pants.
They were going away. It was Liam’s choice to go to camp in attempts to rid himself of the terribly immoral lifestyle he’d accidentally entered into. Niall chose the journey for a different reason, unsure of his beliefs, but wanting to see if it was really worth it to become “normal.” Zayn reluctantly was there for the umpteenth time, unsure as to when his parents continued to send him away when it was clearly not going to change anything. Harry’s parents sent him to camp too, although the confused boy didn’t know how he felt about their decision. Louis was different from all of them. He didn’t want to change, but he knew he had to. There wasn’t a choice.
Five boys: Harry, Louis, Zayn, Niall, Liam. Three months at a rehabilitation camp. One goal: to become heterosexual.
But is it that easy? Can a dozen weeks at an “ex-gay” camp and some intensive therapy truly change your sexuality? These lads thrown together at the young age of sixteen, each with their own story, might just find the answer.
Words: 3165, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English
Fandoms: One Direction (Band), Harry Styles - Fandom, Louis Tomlinson - Fandom, zayn malik - Fandom, liam payne - Fandom, niall horan - Fandom, Larry Stylinson - Fandom
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Categories: M/M
Characters: Harry Styles, Louis Tomlinson, Zayn Malik, Liam Payne, Niall Horan, Original Male Character(s)
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Zayn Malik/Liam Payne, Zayn Malik/Original Male Character(s)
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, larry stylinson - Freeform, Larry Stylinson Is Real, British Harry Styles, British Louis Tomlinson, British Zayn Malik, British Liam Payne, Irish Niall Horan, Coming of Age, Fluff and Smut, Fluff and Angst, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Smut, Fluff, 16-Year-Old Louis Tomlinson, 16-Year-Old Harry Styles, 16-Year-Old Niall Horan, 16-Year-Old Zayn Malik, 16-Year-Old Liam Payne, ziam, conversion therapy, Therapy, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Underage Drinking, Underage Sex, Consensual Underage Sex, Cuddling & Snuggling, Kissing, Boys Kissing, Boys In Love, Teenagers, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Teen Romance, Teen Crush, Teenage Drama, Underage Smoking, Smoking, Cigarettes, Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, Summer Camp, LGBTQ, Adolescent Sexuality, Sexuality, Everyone Is Gay
via AO3 works tagged 'Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson' https://ift.tt/39XmFqT
Elena, who is part vampire and part fae, has been given an assignment by her vampire leader; kill the Vampire King or all that’s left of her family will be eliminated. She goes undercover as a wedding planner for the Vampire King’s mating ceremony, and unexpectedly finds passion in the arms of a tall, mysterious vampire named Bash. Nothing has prepared her for the smoldering desire she feels…
As Always, thank you for your patience! I hope you enjoy =]
Trigger warning for slight mental anxiety type things.
Read all parts here
The four boys were left in the awkward silence that remained after Zayn’s sudden outburst. Niall was still clutching Zayn’s empty workbook while Liam was gripping his own thighs, desperately needing to feel something in his hands, holding onto a reminder that he was still here. Grounding exercises, one of his therapist’s called them. They kept him from spiralling into a panic when the situation threatened his anxiety. Seeing Zayn - such a steady presence at the camp - randomly explode in a fury of spewing hatred, and hearing him use the words that he did, made Liam feel like someone was strangling him, lifting the poor boy by the neck. He tried breathing deeply as he rubbed his palms against his jeans.
“Are you okay?” Niall asked, coming to Liam’s side. The blonde lad crouched down gently and tried to meet the other boy’s gaze.
“I’m fine,” Liam answered, tapping his fingers against the fabric lightly.
“What are you doing?” Louis said, causing Liam to jump and curl his fingers inward, hiding them from prying eyes. But when he looked at Louis, he realized the other boy wasn’t addressing him. Louis’ head was turned towards Harry, who had gotten up and was now kneeling in the corner, emptying drawers from the dresser that he and Louis were sharing.
“Packing,” Harry answered simply, closing one drawer and opening another.
“Packing?” Niall questioned, not moving from where he sat by Liam. Harry nodded.
“Mhm.”
“For what?” Louis spoke again. Harry didn’t answer. Louis’ eyes suddenly widened as the light suddenly clicked in his head. Harry had said he was getting out of there. But his parents hadn’t called and he wasn’t getting kicked out. “Harry. You can’t just leave.” The other lad remained quiet, closing the last of the empty drawers before rearranging things in his bag.
“You can’t just leave!” Liam echoed, his voice coming out in a panicked wail.
“Why not?” Harry asked, grabbing his extra shoes and shoving them next to his clothes.
“Because we need you here,” Niall spoke. Harry zipped his suitcase and hoisted it onto the bed, searching for where he kicked his sneakers when he took them off last.
“What about your parents?!” Liam asked.
“They’ll get over it,” Harry muttered, struggling to pull on his shoe.
“What about your cellphone?” Niall added. Harry paused and huffed a sigh. He had completely forgotten that they still had his phone in the head office along with his other confiscated items. He wished he had thought to ask Zayn about it earlier. He was sure the mischievous lad would have some way to get it for him.
“Already taken care of,” he lied, forcing his heel down as he tugged at his laces.
“I-if you leave, we’ll all get in trouble!” Liam stuttered, his attempts to remain calm failing him. Harry tried not to roll his eyes. He loved Liam, he really did, but he wished he could smack some sense into him, get him to see that he didn’t have to do what the counselors told him to do. He didn’t have to do what anybody told him to. They were each their own person, and they could make their own choices and be themselves, whether others liked it or not.
“You can’t leave now, Harry. Zayn needs us.” Harry scoffed in Niall’s direction.
“Like Zayn is going to stay. I bet you anything if I go ask him, he’ll come with me.”
“So you’re just… leaving?” Louis finally spoke again, his voice timid and quiet. Harry’s eyes softened as he turned to look at the pixie-haired boy who was now standing beside the bed where Harry sat. Harry stood, trying to offer an apologetic smile, but his lips barely moved. He watched Louis’ own, the same ones he had kissed days earlier, as they formed into a worried pout.
Come with me, he wanted to say. He could recite a thousand cheesy lines from romantic movies where one character begs the other to run away with him in the hopes that it would make Louis join him, and then they’d leave this stupid camp and go off some place where they could be accepted for who they were. It always worked for the straight couples in the old black and white films. But this was different. This was real life, this was in color. And they were gay.
Harry’s thoughts were interrupted by the cabin door slamming, and he and Louis whipped their heads back to see Niall standing alone and Liam off in a rush without so much as looking over his shoulder.
~
Zayn sat with a smoke between his fingers, taking a drag slowly as he stared at the water. It was already dim when he left the cabin, and now the stars were beginning to peer out of the darkness, wondering if it was safe to come out of hiding from the harshness of day and those who inhabited it. Zayn sure wished it was.
It was never safe, not at the camp, not in his house, not in the world. Zayn wasn’t scared like the stars though. He was more of a cloud, hanging above those around him, not caring if it was day or night, waiting for just the right moment to rain on someone. It wasn’t that Zayn meant to upset people, but he had learned over the years that it seemed inevitable. Why run from it? He had been upsetting people long before he was even born, as his father told him many times.
Zayn groaned at the thought of his father and the reminder of what had happened back in the cabin. It was a stupid moment of weakness, and he’d let too much of him show. It didn’t matter though. He was expecting to get thrown out any day now, for his language or his refusal to participate, and then it wouldn’t matter what the other boys thought of him. He was going to miss them more than he cared to admit. He wondered if stupid Harry and Louis would ever get over themselves and admit that they were attracted to each other. He hoped that Niall would come out on the other side of this realizing that he was fine the way he was. And he prayed to the god he didn’t believe in that Liam would stop fighting so hard, that he would accept himself and stop struggling to change into something he wasn’t. He was too good of a kid to lose to the war against the bigots in the world who wanted to shape him like a lump of clay. Liam was a rock. He just didn’t see it.
“You shouldn’t smoke,” came a soft voice from behind him. Zayn turned to see Liam standing a few feet away, hands fidgeting together and feet planted on the ground.
“You shouldn’t spy,” Zayn replied evenly. Liam lifted his head with large eyes.
“O-oh, no, I wasn’t spying, I was just - ”
“I’m just messing with you,” Zayn said with a slight sigh, turning back to look at the water. He should have known it was only a matter of time before someone found him. He was kind of hoping it would be a counselor, someone whom he could curse out and then they’d send him home. But he was too tired to yell anymore.
The lighter boy walked quietly until he was standing beside the bench where Zayn said puffing on his cigarette. Zayn sort of hoped that the smoke would have kept the younger boy away; he wasn’t in the mood for any company. Liam didn’t seem to get the message and stood silently, following Zayn’s gaze to the water. The two remained quiet for a few minutes, with only the soft chirp of crickets ringing in their ears.
Liam shifted his weight slightly, chewing his lip as he tried to think of something supportive to say. He wanted to ask Zayn about the things he had said back in the cabin during their therapy session, about being a disgrace to his family and how he was disgusting for kissing boys. Liam swallowed hard as Zayn’s voice replayed through his head. He wasn’t talking to Liam; he’d been talking to himself. And it seemed as though it wasn’t Zayn who was talking, but someone else, as if he’d been repeating words he’d heard before. But the kissing boys comment… That stuck with Li as if it had been spoken directly to him, spoken about him.
“You’re not a bad person,” Liam finally whispered. Zayn nodded.
“Okay.”
“I’m serious,” the other lad went on. He fingers folding around each other again. “You haven’t done anything near as bad as I have.” A snort escaped the nose of the darker boy, a cloud of smoke shooting out around him. Liam, the prince of perfect, the goody goody god of the year, was claiming to have done something worse than him? He was about to tell Liam that running with scissors didn’t count, but then he heard a sniffle. Zayn looked up and saw Liam’s eyes shining with the threat of tears, illuminated by the reflection of the moon on the lake.
Zayn was torn between reaching out and comforting the boy or saying something stupid and insensitive about how Liam needed to stop crying all the time. He would have done the latter with anyone else, but Zayn was growing fond of him.
“Liam.”
Liam didn’t look up or so much as flinch at the sound of his name.
“I killed someone.”
Zayn frowned. Clearly he had misheard.
“Liam,” Zayn repeated again.
“I did. Someone is dead because of me.”
Zayn froze, his cigarette burning out between his fingers as he tried to process the words Liam had said. He was tempted to speak, say something, anything, but Liam continued.
“I knew it was wrong, I knew it was wrong before anything even happened, but I didn’t care and I was selfish and I… l-loved him and now he’s gone.” Zayn exhaled slowly as Liam began rambling.
“What happened?” Zayn asked, not sure if he really wanted the answer. Liam had killed someone? What did that even mean? Liam took a quivering breath, trying to form the words he hadn’t said since he first heard them several months ago.
“A car crash. It was my fault.” Zayn nodded, trying to understand.
“Were you driving?” he said softly.
“No. He was.”
“Were you distracting him?”
“No. I wasn’t even in the car.” Zayn furrowed his brow, Liam’s words becoming more confusing by the minute.
“I don’t understand. If you weren’t in the car, how was it-”
“Because! I kissed him!” Liam wailed, tears now flowing down his cheeks. “That was the day I kissed him and I knew it was wrong but I didn’t care and I kissed him, I kissed him, it was my fault, and we were punished for it, the world is punishing him and me and he’s fucking gone!” Liam was truly shaking now, sobs tearing through his body as he pulled at his sleeves, needing to feel himself again. “I killed him, I fucking killed him.”
Zayn’s stomach lurched and he swore he could taste vomit in the back of his throat. He chest was tightening as Liam’s cries unfolded before him. As the boy crumbled quickly beside him, it became very clear to Zayn that Liam truly did believe it was his fault that his friend was dead.
“Liam,” Zayn said gently, moving closer to the trembling boy and extending his arm over the back of the bench and around Liam. He let his hand fall to Liam’s shoulder, pulling him close and stroking his arm. Liam didn’t pull away like Zayn thought he would. He barely acknowledged the touch. This somehow only made Zayn’s heart break more for the lad.
Zayn didn’t know what to do, didn’t know what to say. For once he didn’t have something smart or clever to pipe in with. The kid that was so easy to pick on and get a rise out of was now tucked in his shell, breaking more than Zayn had ever seen anyone else do, and words were not coming to him.
Zayn tightened both arms around the boy, resting his cheek on top of Liam’s hair and staring out onto the lake. His fingers and hands moved up and down slowly along Liam, who curled in closer and allowed himself to be held. Zayn couldn’t help the tiny smile that pulled at his lips as he remembered the first week when Liam wouldn’t even let another man within a foot of his personal space, but now here they were, wrapped in each other as one comforted the other. Zayn’s eyes drifted upwards to see several stars slowly emerge as a cloud slid along the black silk of the sky. And even though they had both broken down in the course of the hour, Zayn felt like he could breathe now with the other lad in his arms. And he swore Liam did too.
Alright patient, cats. Here's the next part of True Directions! I hope you like it. I may go back and edit later.
THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS OFFENSIVE LANGUAGE
Read all parts here. Read it on ao3.
“God, I hate therapy,” Zayn grumbled as the boys walked back to their cabin at the end of the day.
“It’s not that bad,” Niall added, jogging slightly to catch up with Zayn’s quick and long-legged pace. The darker boy was anxious to have a smoke, maybe a drink or two, and then turn in for the night. “What do you think, Liam?”
Liam said nothing. He walked along behind the others, hands stuffed in his pockets and staring at the ground. Sometimes he felt as though if he didn’t pay attention to any other boys, didn’t look at them or listen to them, maybe they would disappear… all of his feelings and confused urges and thoughts would just go away and then he would be normal. He jumped suddenly as he felt an arm curl around his shoulders. He shrugged away and quickened his feet until he was racing along ahead of everyone, leaving the blonde boy who was just touching him to shrug and watch him rush off.
Several meters behind them, Harry was trying to whisper to Louis. “I’m leaving soon,” he said softly, not wanting the others to hear. Louis didn’t remove his eyes from the path ahead of them as he responded.
“Your folks change their mind then? Are they coming to get you?” Harry shook his head. He had hoped that it would happen that way. For several days, whenever a counselor approached him, his heart quickened and his eyes brightened with hope. His mum was there, they’d say, or she was on the phone. And she would come to pick him up and he would run to her and she’d cry and say how sorry she was, how she couldn’t believe that she’d made such a horrible mistake in sending him away just for being different. They’d embrace, and they’d sob, and then they’d take hands and go home, and it would all go away. He could be himself, be with someone of the same sex, and she would still love him and smile at him like he was her pride and joy, just like she had when he was little. But the call never came. And neither did his mum or the freedom he needed to feel.
“No,” Harry finally said, still keeping his voice down. “I’m leaving on my own.” Louis frowned, looking up at Harry as they approached the cabin.
“What do you mean?”
Harry opened his mouth to answer, but was cut off by Zayn, who had already entered with the others, shouting again about how much he hated therapy. As the last two boys came into the cabin, a man stood smiling with his hands clasped together in front of him.
“Another session?!” Zayn bellowed. Harry tried to meet Louis’ glance as the boys settled on the floor in a circle and the new therapist tried to calm down Zayn, but Lou didn’t see him. Harry guessed he would have to continue their conversation another time.
~
Zayn held the letter that had just been handed to him, rolling his eyes at the familiar exercise that was to come. He knew where this was going; they had done this in the previous years, and every year it was the same stupid routine.
“Take a look at the letters in your hands,” the counsellor announced to the group. He was new that year, overly enthused about writing… Zayn had already forgotten his name.
Zayn glanced around the circle where they sat on their cabin floor, watching as the other boys studied their letters carefully. Liam was hunched over, squinting as if he was concentrating so hard his head might explode. Zayn felt bad for the kid; he was going to get himself hurt one of these days with how seriously he was taking everything. Zayn simply glanced at the first line and knew instantly that it was the same phony letter they handed out every year:
“Dear Bonnie. I’ve learned a lot about what causes me to feel the way I do, and I’ve discovered many ways to help me avoid my triggers. Blah blah blah blah blah. Love, Stanley.” It was supposedly written by a camp member a thousand years ago or something, but Zayn knew it was fake as anything. It was obviously fabricated as an example, a made up story of some boy who was now a man and ready to return to his girlfriend Bonnie after ridding himself of his ‘horrible homosexual tendencies.’ Zayn refused to read, yet again, how good ol’ Stan would never look at another man with temptation again and how he only had eyes for dear Bonnie. It was disgusting and untrue, every word of it.
Zayn’s thoughts were interrupted by the therapist speaking.
“Today, you’re going to write your own letters. They can be to your parents, a friend, a counsellor here… You don’t have to put the person’s real name if you don’t want to. Write things you want that person to know. Write about the past. The present. The future. Write about things you’ve learned here so far and how you can apply that to your life.”
Across the room, Zayn saw Harry furrow his brow, causing the darker boy to, again, worry for the way the others treated these counselling sessions. They were just stupid little activities, things to keep the day varied and attempt to get them thinking about why they should want to change who they were.
Liam raised his hand.
“Will we be graded?” Zayn snorted.
“No, Mr. Payne, you will not be graded.”
“Does it have to be long?” Louis asked.
“Just write what comes to you. Don’t worry about anything else.”
Zayn swore he could feel his eyes loosening from their sockets with how much he had been rolling them. He crossed his arms as he watched the others begin to write, not making a move towards his materials.
“Something wrong, Mr. Malik?” the man asked. Zayn sat up.
“I’ve done this activity a thousand times,” he stated, narrowing his eyes annoyedly at the counsellor. He was sure that copies of his letters were probably still in the office somewhere. If the man went into his file, he could pull them out instead of making Zayn do the incredibly mundane task once more. “I’ve already written to practically everyone I know.” The man frowned, as if in deep thought, and Zayn wanted to scream with the amount of effort and care that was being put into this.
“Why don’t you write to yourself then?” It was stupid. Write to himself? Why the hell would anyone write a letter to their own self? Was he supposed to stamp and address it to himself as well? Send it off and wait for the post to deliver it back to him? Zayn considered smarting off with those exact thoughts, but he only sighed, not seeing the point in arguing, as he flipped open his workbook to the blank pages in the back. He would at least make it look like he was writing. Hopefully that would get the man off of his back.
~
“Okay,” the man, Jarrod, his name was, spoke as he clapped his hands once. “Who’s ready to share?” Zayn scowled to himself. God forbid they wrote anything private.
“I’ll go first,” Niall offered, sitting up straight and clearing his throat.“‘Dear Mum.’” Zayn snorted, muttering a quiet, “Figures.” There was always one who wrote to their parents. Zayn had done it the first year, per his therapist’s request, though he knew she quickly regretted it when she realized he did not have one kind thing to say to them. Jarrod hushed Zayn and urged Niall to continue.
“‘Dear Mum... When I was little you taught me how important it was to say thank you. I would say thank you to the bus driver when she dropped me off at school. I said thank you to the man who bagged our groceries every Sunday at the store. I said thank you whenever someone said congratulations after a football win. But I don’t think I’ve said thank you to you, not as much as I should have, anyway. Thank you for always being there for me. I remember when I was little, and I wanted to be a merman for halloween, and you sewed me a costume. Thank you for that. Thank you for letting me switch primary schools when the other kids were mean to me. Thank you for reading me bedtime stories every night, and thank you for not getting mad when I told you I was too big for them. Thank you for telling me that it’s okay for me to be who I am and to love who I love, even if that person is the same sex as me. Thank you for understanding and letting me come here, to explore my options and find my own path. I’m very lucky to have a mum like you, and I will say thank you for everything you do for me from this day forward. With much love, Niall.’”
“Stupid,” Zayn muttered under his breath.
“What was that, Mr. Malik? Would you like to share next?” Jarrod asked, raising his eyebrows.
“Not really,” Zayn said more audibly, knowing for sure that the man was just teasing him now.
“I’ll share,” Louis spoke, not waiting for an answer before he began reading. “‘Dear girls. I have watched all of you grow from the day you were born, and I love each of you very much. I know it hasn’t always been easy, but I’ve tried my best to help Mum take care of you. I taught you to read, I walked you home from school, I made you soup when you were sick...I told you I was leaving because now I’m the one feeling sick, but I’m getting much better. I’m sorry that I left you. I hope you trust me when I say that this is what’s best right now.”
Louis paused, and Zayn wondered if he truly believed the words he had just spoken. Did he honestly think this was the best choice for him? Being here, away from everyone he knew and loved, suffocating as idiotic professionals squeezed the life out of them? If this was the best place to be, Zayn would rather be dead.
“I cannot help Mum take care of you if I do not first take care of myself. I want to be the best big brother I can be for the rest of our lives, and I know that I was unable to do that before. I’ll be better before I get home, and then, I promise, I’ll never leave again. Love, Louis.’” Zayn sighed impatiently, wishing he could knock some sense into these boys. He thought maybe Louis had it, the logic and reasoning to realize that this was just a joke, an in between, a filler before they found a place where they belonged as they were. But from the sounds of Louis’ letter, it seemed as though he was buying into the whole charade. Zayn wanted to scream at him, for him, and tell Louis that he wasn’t getting better - he was becoming worse.
Jarrod nodded at the conclusion of Louis’ reading, turning to the next boy in the circle. “Mr. Styles?”
Harry seemed to be shaking slightly, not taking his eyes off of the boy who had just read.
“Mine’s, um, kinda dumb,” he mumbled, fingering nervously at his lip. Jarrod smiled encouragingly, and Zayn wished he could punch the man square in the jaw. Harry took a deep breath, eyes flitting to Louis before they went back to his paper.
“‘Dear firefly…” Harry’s voice sounded strange to Zayn as he began to read, and he wondered if Harry realized. He remembered hearing once that a person’s own voice sounded different to them because the sound was already inside of their body, and it was traveling through bone, not air like what everyone else heard. It was as if a person’s own body was lying to them, saying that they sounded one way when they actually sounded another. Zayn couldn’t help but feel as if that’s what the staff was trying to train their brains to do - trick their own bodies. They wanted the boys to feel as though they were going to change, that they could become someone else, and many, like Louis, seemed to believe this. Zayn wondered if Harry was the same. Did the feelings in his bones seem different to him than the ones in the air? Did he feel the same way on the inside that he looked on the outside?
“‘You hide your light from the world, but I can see it, right under your tail. It blinks on and off at random times, kind of like mine. I used mine when I would fly, creating a glow in the deep dark of night so that I could find my way and not get lost. When I was caught here in this jar, I found my light to be useless. I wasn’t flying, and soon my light forgot how to shine. You’re in this jar with me, and it’s being shaken. They’ve captured us, and they want us to blink. And you do. You blink your light like fire for them, burning you while they study and stare at us from outside of the glass. I can see it’s exhausting you. How can you be so tired when we haven’t flown in weeks? You don’t have to flash in the pattern that they want. You can close your eyes and dim your tail when you want to sleep, and it will be okay. If the lid ever comes off, and we’re set free from this jar, I hope you remember how to glow your own. And if you were to come and fly with me, I would never force you to light yourself ablaze again. You make my heart shine enough to guide the both of us.’”
The room was silent and Harry’s teeth found his lip as his eyes found the floor. Zayn had underestimated him. The boy was opened up like a corpse on an autopsy table, and there was no longer any being or space between his bones and the air. Harry was practically begging the boy next to him to stitch him back up, and it was painfully obvious. It was as if Zayn was watching a tragic forbidden love story unfold right before his eyes, but Zayn looked to Louis, it seemed as though the latter male was oblivious to the fact. He couldn’t hear Harry’s pleas; he was too focussed on the sound in his own bones.
“That was very good, Mr. Styles,” Jarrod finally praised, breaking the silence and Zayn’s thoughts. “Mr. Malik?” The dark lad blinked, forgetting for a moment where he was and what they were doing.
“What?” he snapped with annoyance.
“Why don’t you read yours.” The boy grumbled as he flipped open his workbook.
“Dear Zayn,” he began, voice dripping with irritation as he held the paper in front of his face. “You’re a swell lad. You can make toast without burning the sides, and you’ve gotten through sixteen years without breaking anyone’s neck. Good job. You’re devilishly handsome, and you suck cock better than anyone I’ve ever met. People should be jealous of you. You’re an okay guy.” He stopped speaking, but didn’t look up from his paper.
Jarrod cleared his throat. “Is, uh, is that all?” he questioned. Zayn met the man’s eyes and tightened his jaw. What more did this guy want? This counsellor, Jerry or Jarold or whoever, and everyone else at the camp and at home… his parents, the therapists, the psychiatrists, the mentors, everyone. What did they want from him? What did the man mean, “Is that all?” It was who Zayn was. He wasn’t going to change, whether that was all there was or not.
“No. It’s not,” he continued, voice rising. “You’re an okay guy, but it’s not enough. You’ll only ever be okay, mediocre, the let down of the family because you don’t get the best grades, and you’re not great at sports, and you ‘keep things bottled up.’ Even all that could be forgiven, but no. You’re a disappointment because you kiss boys. You kiss boys, you fuck boys, you’re a boy who likes boys, and that’s disgusting.” His words were quickening now, voice breaking, eyes tearing, but he didn’t care. Now that he was talking, opening himself up like the corpse Harry had turned into, he couldn’t stop. “You’re disgusting, you’re a sinner, you’re a filthy piece of shit, you’re nothing but a disgrace of a son, a bent little fucked up sissy who can’t get a girl to say yes to you, so you turn to men like a fucking pansy.” His eyes were completely filled now, and tears began pouring onto his cheeks. The words spilled out of him like blood, and they tasted foul in his mouth, but they kept coming. “You’re a fucking faggot! You will quit this fucking homosexual bullshit or you will leave. Because you were not raised this way, and no son of mine is going to be a bloody faggot!”
With that, Zayn angrily threw his notebook across the room and stormed out of the cabin. Jarrod was instantly at his feet, going after the boy while the other four sat frozen on the floor. Everything felt as if it was going in slow motion, as if the room was filled with water, leaving the boys unable to breathe or move properly. Liam was shaking, right down to the tips of his fingers, as if Zayn’s words were rattling around inside of him. Harry was biting his lip so hard that he could taste blood, like a sick poisonous reminder of what they had just witnessed. Louis’ jaw and fists were clenched tightly, in a way that probably should have hurt but he could barely feel. It was Niall who moved first, who was able to swim through the thick sea of the harshness that had surrounded them. He stood and walked slowly to where Zayn’s workbook had landed, bending down to pick it up. It was still open to the page marked with that day’s date, but other than the set of numbers, the page was blank.
