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Love Me With Your Eyes Closed

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Today wasn’t his day, Harry decides, slouching lower into his tight, too-small seat. “Your enthusiasm overrides you,” Zayn, who sits directly across from him, murmurs dryly. Harry just barely stops himself from baring his teeth or something of the other dominance, knowing how intolerable that would be considered in their “proper” Private school. But he wants to. God, he wants to let something loose inside him, something unknown that’s rattling along the chains of his self control…It’s freakish, but moving all the same.

Instead though, he balls his hands into fists at his thighs and makes another half-hearted attempt to pay attention to what their teacher, Mr. Lerwick, is blabbering on about.  But, to be completely honest, he’d rather be anywhere else. Even home –his father’s untouched manor. At least there he could sleep in his bed, comforted by the cool, lone silence.

The hour drags by insistently slow, their moron of a teacher (they’re three bloody weeks into this History’s course, yet still learning absolutely nothing) lecturing about some shit that has nothing to do with Queen Elizabeth the Firsts reign (not that Harry’s listened much, but still, what exactly did this man get paid for?) “And Mr. Styles, could you please tell us what the Elizabethan Settlement did exactly?”

Here we go again. Sighing heavily, Harry straightens slightly in his chair, meeting Lerwick’s reproachful gaze evenly. The old bastard is always out to get him. Poor little Beta. “Well, Mr. L,” he begins easily. “What it did was try and force two very separate religions into one, though, to be blunt sir, I think it was a shit attempt, quite like your shit attempts at schooling.” Around him is a chorus of gasps from the others, but Harry doesn’t really care if he’s tainted their precious innocence, it’s too early in the bloody morning for Mr. Too-Freakin’-Good-To-Be-Teaching-Lerwick’s crap.

Much to his glee, Lerwick turns impressive shades of red, completely outraged. Zayn’s the first to burst into laughter, starting the classes (cattle, he swears) swift laughter. Harry throws Zayn a bemused look to which Zayn shakes his head, mouthing: you’re such a twat. It couldn’t be truer.

“You-! I will not –tolerate this sort of behaviour–!” Cutting him off, Zayn rises from his desk, shrugging his tattered backpack over his shoulder. Harry takes that as his cue to join and shoves away from the wooden desk quickly enough that the legs scrape the polished linoleum floor, causing a resonating, cringe-worthy screech to travel from his ears to his temples, which give painful throbs.

He really should’ve stayed home instead of getting plastered off his arse last night. Really, it’s never been any good for him. But, Harry thinks bitterly, he couldn’t ruin his perfectly fucked reputation, now could he? Least his father disown him or something. With a thoughtful sigh at the classes’ queue of scandalised faces, he slings his own bag over his shoulder and sides Zayn, tossing an easy arm around his best-mates shoulders.

Lerwick looks like he might explode and Harry smiles broadly at the prospect but takes pity on the older Beta. “See you in detention, Sir.” And that’s that. Harry starts for the doors, towing Zayn along with him. As they pass a pretty red-head, Zayn grins wickedly, shooting her a very inviting wink that has her mouth falling open.

“You shouldn’t get her hopes up like that mate, ‘specially if you’re empty offering,” Harry reprimands as they exit.

“And what gave you the idea I was ‘empty offering’ mate?” Zayn questions, staring straight ahead at the group of blokes (far enough that they can’t actually see them, even with their enhanced vision) with that same too-pleased smirk.

Harry taps his bottom lip, pretending to be deep in thought. “I dunno. Could’ve been all those times I walked in on you and those blokes…” he trails off knowingly. “Or maybe far back when you confessed your undying love for my curls and –!”

“Wha–You little shit!” Zayn accuses, olive skin tinged with pink as he shoves the Alpha by the shoulder. Completely caught off by the force, Harry staggers forward, catching another unsuspecting student’s shoulder, the force enough that the other goes sprawling to the floor, the contents in their bag scattering everywhere.

A heavy silence stretches, that obnoxious, unknown feeling churning in the Alpha’s chest as he stares intently at the smaller boy. He doesn’t bother to reach for his things, but instead scrambles into a sitting position, tucking his legs underneath his bum and tugging on the blazer that swamps his figure. Physically, the boy gives nothing away, head bowed lowly as to hide his features with his feathery fringe. And for some reason, the protective pose bothers Harry like nothing he’s ever felt before. It screams no. This boy should not be hiding from him; his Alpha claws at him impatiently and Harry is completely thrown off by that.

More so by the fact that he can feel this boy –his emotions radiated from his that forcefully. Sharp spikes of anxiety and embarrassment. What…?He doesn’t know how to react at all; everything in him demands he lighten the stuffy, tense atmosphere and well. “Accidents happen, yeah?” Harry smiles widely, showing off his dimples with arrogance, waiting a full five seconds before realising the boy’s blatantly ignoring him. His irritation skyrockets.

It runs down his skin, prickling uncomfortably as he grits his teeth to keep back a warning growl. He isn’t used to being ignored or unwanted. Not at all. Harry’s known around the school, hell around the town as a “bad boy” who the guys look up too and the girls want to mess around with. He is used to getting his way. As an Alpha, that’s how it works. Except this boy, this specific little boy obviously doesn’t want anything to do with him and that makes him want to hurt something or better, someone.

He could feel the need bubbling to the surface. Fuck. He shoots a look at Zayn, who simply shrugs, looking obnoxiously (there’s that fucking word again) amused from where he leans on the wall –fucking smug bastard. Trying to seem impassive, he crouches, reaching for a thick book (what the hell does this boy read?) when a smaller, sun-kissed hand goes to stop him, though it manages to somehow miss by a few inches. Intrigued, Harry freezes, hand still outstretched, simply waiting for the fluttery hand to land on his and when it finally does, it trembles along his skin, feather-light and unsure. “D-Don’t. I-It was just an accident, yeah?”

Mine. Harry doesn’t understand what does it, maybe the high-pitched, but oddly hesitant voice or the soft pads of his dainty hand over his own rough one, but abruptly, an electric jolt runs up his spine and instinctively, he inhales deeply through his nose. The rich, sweet scent spreads through his blood like wildfire and the feral, caged part in him snaps.

“Look at me,” he demands, brain-to-mouth filter shattered. The other’s emotions blare like sirens to Harry –curiosity, intimidation and fear. A low, threatening growl rips from the Alpha’s chest, prepared to defend with his life. For the time, he tunes into their surrounding but finds nothing to defend against and with a blink, belatedly realises the other might actually be afraid of him.

“’s a, erm, bit difficult,” the boy begins, head-tilting so that Harry can finally see him. Mine. That’s all he’s able to think as he drinks in the masculine yet feminine features. Eyebrows thin, high wings above blue forget-me-nots, his cheeks are sharp, so fucking sharp, and his lips are a thin, inviting pink colour so different from Harry’s plumper, rosy ones.

Everything about him is lovely, but the eyes, they stick to Harry’s mind. Deep enough that he wants to drown there…but there’s something missing; the colour is too dull, almost… “When I can’t see you,” he finishes.Almost unseeing. Harry has the urge to rip something apart, to shout at the unfairness he abruptly feels.

“…can’t see you,” the words ricochet around his head as the rusty gears shift. He searches those eyes, eyes that stare right back at him and it seems impossible that this boy cannot see him. That he could be blind. It drives Harry’s emotions in millions of directions, all of which revolve around him.

“LOUIS!” The voice is too close to the boy, a hand lands on his boy’s shoulder. He literally see’s red.  Mine, mine, fucking mine!  Before he realises what he’s doing, he shoves the other male away from the boy, crowding him, prepared to tear his throat out with his teeth –which are bared to harsh sounds to escape him. Surprising and infuriating him, the other male stands his ground as Harry sizes him up, taking in the Alpha figure, shorter than Harry but much bulkier. His own Alpha takes control, calculating the best ways to take him down though he doesn’t get to act because he’s being yanked away by the collar of his shirt.

Instantly alerted of another presence, he snarls, turning to take down whoever dared to interfere with him protecting what belonged to him. It was another boy, small, but taller than his boy by mere inches with wide blue eyes that scream Did-I-Just-Do-That?! An easy enough opponent. Far off, he tries to stop himself because he doesn’t want this, he doesn’t even understand what is going on with him; all he can think is that the boy with blue, blue, so very blue eyes can’t even see the colour of his own. And these two think they can just take him away…or possibly hurt him.

He takes a warning step closer when someone blocks him, someone familiar. Zayn’s eyes, usually warm and teasing, are darker with something close to reluctance. “C’mon Harry. You don’t wanna do this. You’re not that much of an idiot.” I really, really don’t he thinks in frustration.

It takes every bit of self-control he possess to force his Alpha down, breathing rough and uneven as he fists his hair (with the hand that isn’t being restrained by Zayn). The silence now is eerily tense, the only sounds are muted breaths, and well, “I’m not ‘bout to snap,” he bites, though he’s not so sure and it doesn’t help anything, at all.

The other Alpha, with the short cropped brown hair and almost…puppy-like brown eyes, stares at him intently, muttering, “Are you quite finished?” Harry lurches for him, but finds himself stuck under Zayn (when the hell had he gotten anywhere near as strong as Harry?), growling under his breath. The prick must realise he isn’t answering to him because he looks over his shoulder at Zayn. “Is he?”

Zayn simply shrugs, sizing the Alpha up much the same as Harry (which is quite hard to beat, not to mention weird). Two Alphas on edge really shouldn’t be anywhere near each other, but hell, Harry is not just going to…The boy, Louis finally rises jerkily, eyes wide and unfocused. “…can’t see you.”

“Um, Li…could you?” he speaks in that same, soft tone, completely unsure and the damn Alpha immediately goes for him…rather like an eager-puppy. Funny that.  Except no, it really isn’t funny.

“You wanna leave, Lou?” Now the dirty-blonde scrambles forward, quickly retrieving all his –Louis’s fallen belongings, shoving them carelessly into his bag. Then Louis places his hand on the dirty-blondes shoulder, as if for guidance and Harry’s breath catches because he wants that…He wants to support the Omega. But that isn’t possible with that Alpha staring pointedly in warning and Zayn’s fucking paw digging into his upper arm.

Something weird (nothing new there) courses through him, suspiciously close to sadness as Louis nods at “Li, the precious puppy”…yet as the blonde tries to lead him away, the smaller lad stops dead, turning back half-way so that his eyes land straight on Harry, and he hopes he isn’t imagining how soft they are, looking at him. “Um…it was nice to meet you Harry.” And then he has to go and smile.

Once again, Harry doesn’t know what does it, the sweet smile or his name on the others pretty lips, but his heart does this weird thing, hammering so forcefully it’s hard to breathe. He doesn’t move at all, watching intensely, even after Louis is dragged away, he tries to wrap his head around what the bloody hell just happened. That’s why he gives no fight when Zayn tows him to the schools lot, shoving him with unnecessary force, into his car.

Zayn doesn’t speak for a while, though neither does Harry. He doesn’t know how long passes, but Zayn breaks the silence first.

“Wanna talk ‘bout it?”

Harry winces because no, he really doesn’t. Zayn understands of course, because Zayn gets him and he gets Zayn, so it isn’t a surprise when the other mutters “right”, grabs the keys from his pocket and starts the car without another word.

They drive to Zayn’s and Harry has never been more grateful to see the familiar drive. But he still can’t find any words.

He says nothing all throughout dinner, letting Zayn’s sisters chatter distract him until, hours later, Zayn sits him on his bed with patient, but expectant eyes. And – “I…He’s mine…Or he will be…I-I want ‘im.” Well, if he sounds as lost as he feels, Zayn doesn't comment. Probably good on him too with how wound up he feels, like he's teetering on the edge of something...dangerous. Best mate or not, he can only go so far with his Alpha.

He doesn’t sleep at all that night. Instead he lies awake, exploring the heavy feeling in his chest until he becomes restless and has to think about something, anything. Harry thinks and thinks and thinks about a gorgeous Omega with blue, blue eyes that can’t even see. 

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