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Harry is a watcher; he's reserved and could be considered an introvert of sorts. He studies people and catalogs certain information for future reference. Harry's what someone would call a sleeper. There is always those kids that no one wants to mess with because they know it would only end badly, but Harry isn't that kid. He flies under the radar unnoticed by everyone; no one realizes just how dangerous he is.
Harry has an inkling for destroying things. He can't pin point the exact moment this fascination started, but he knows it has been there since he was child. It started with simply stealing things from his older sister, or even his parents on occasion, and destroying whatever it was.
He took things that were pretty, things that were good, that were perfect and destroyed them. Smashed them into a million pieces until there was nothing left except shards that were even too small for magnifying lens to find.
Emotions have never been something that Harry easily expressed, his gaze is often too intense, his posture often intimidating the other kids and even a few adults, however, he never seems to care. If he did, no one would possibly know, but it really didn't. Harry was content with watching, watching and waiting. Harry was surprisingly patient for a child; he always seems to be studying. Large green eyes that seem to know everything always keep everyone on edge when he is in the room.
Teachers and classmates alike were never quite sure how to handle him and generally just left him to his own devices.
However, as he grew, his curiosity grew also and then instead of simply just breaking a plate or a phone, he would hide it away after breaking it and watch them go mad trying to find it.
This behavior carried on throughout Harry's life and only intensified as he continued to grow and found himself surrounded by other children. Children who had things he could destroy.
No one assumed that slow talking, gangly, ungraceful, Harry could be anything, but slow minded, and maybe that was why people find a salvation of sorts in his silence. As far as everyone knows he has no friends and he rarely speaks. No one is quite sure who starts it or how it even gets started, but somehow Harry turns into a confessional of sorts. He might as well be mute and he isn't someone you have to worry about stabbing you in the back. He mostly flies under the radar and knows more about the student body than anyone realizes. It is a powerful thing. However, the boy couldn't care less, he is waiting. It is all about the patience, he is waiting for the perfect confession, always listening, always-paying attention, but quick to dismiss that, which couldn't benefit him.
Harry took to watching people over the years, he knew how to read people and he could do it rather well. Liam Payne was an open book, Harry is just waiting for the other to crack, he would eventually come crawling, and they always did. Everyone had something they couldn't keep bottled up. However, there is no smirking or any snide comments made when he finds himself sitting in the back of the library with Liam and his wide eyes and unruly hair looking as if he is ready to burst out crying at any moment.
It is perfect; he is perfect. Liam keeps to himself mostly, besides the tiny group of kids he sat with at lunch. He is the epitome of a golden child with his good posture and hard earned grades. He is well put together, he is pretty; he is perfect.
That reason alone had Harry tingling with excitement. He wanted to sink his fingertips into the others tanned skin and pull at it, scratch, rip, tear until he fell apart. Harry wanted to reach into the cracks then tear Liam apart from the inside out. He strived for the destruction; he lived for the sensations that accompanied shattering something so lovely.
He listened, Harry always listens; he sits patiently and quietly not saying a word as Liam speaks. Words like fag and scared were thrown around so much that Harry didn't even have to plot. Everything just falls right into his hands, but he wouldn't be satisfied until he saw those wide eyes broken in a million pieces on the floor.
Liam finds salvation in the back of that library, looking forward to seeing Harry there. It becomes a routine for them to sit in the back of the library and for Liam to talk while Harry just listens. His patience outstanding, exceeding what most teenagers is willing to exert, but Harry knew it would be worth it. The pay off would make up for all of this time of listening and studying. A shiver coursed through his body at the thought. Broken and destroyed on the floor, no longer perfect and no longer pretty.
No one understands Harry; no one understands his fascination with destroying things. They didn't realize to what extent that fascination, that obsession stretches. Maybe things would be different if they did. Maybe it would have stopped him from pressing his lips against Liam's during one of their meetings. That way Liam wouldn't have had the opportunity to eagerly kiss him back. His movements were desperate and at first a bit timid while Harry was controlled. His actions precise and almost robotic as his ran a hand through that unruly hair, giving it a sharp tug reveling in the whine that escaped Liam's lips.
It is like a whisper in the wind, it is so quiet that it is almost missed by the students, but it only took one person to catch it for it too spread like wildfire.
There is no longer any composure left in those brown eyes, just desperation and panic. He sits in the back of the library crying about how he didn't understand and how they found out never once looking to Harry. He stayed naive to Harry sitting right next to him just listening. There is no comforting hugs or reassurances that everything will be all right, just an intense stare and Harry, who is always willing to listen.
A wave of pleasure washed over Harry as he watched those invisible cracks begin to widen. His fingers slip deeper and further into Liam, gripping, tearing, and ripping at him silently. A feeling of satisfaction coursed through his bones as he watches Liam crumbling right in front of him.
Standing off to the side, he goes unnoticed by the group, watching Liam shattering to pieces. His skin marred with bruises and blood as the others rained down in him. They show no mercy and that’s when Harry's new fascination became to bloom. A boy with black hair and dark skin letting insult after insult spill from his lips as he continues to crush Liam with two other boys.
He walks away from the scene, his mind already swirling with the thoughts of tan skin and black hair.
Words such as Liam and hospital and nearly dead float around the halls, but Harry’s interest have already waned. He no longer cares and only spares at a glance at the broken boy to see his handy work. He licks his lips as he watches what had once been so perfect scuffling down the halls not daring to look anyone in the eyes. The glue he has tried to replace the pieces with is clearly visible and doing a poor job at holding him together.
His interest in high cheek bones and tattooed covered skin is temporarily put on hold as his gaze dances over the couple standing a few feet ahead of him. His gaze intensifies studying their movements and interactions around each other. They have been dating for years, they are going to get married, live happily ever after. They are perfect for one another; they are perfect together. The cracks were a bit wider on them, not like Liam. It wouldn't take as much effort to make them crumble.
Slow talking and supposedly slow minded was a combination that seems dreadful. No one suspects his staring means anything, not that he is studying, not that he is taking notes, or waiting for the right moment.
All it takes is a brush of fingertips against her wrist and Harry already finds himself slipping into the cracks. Eleanor feels the need to protect Harry, acts like a mother figure of sorts; however, this doesn't sit well with her boyfriend. They crumble on themselves, Harry barely even lifts a finger, and it is all rather boring to him. However, he won't let it go without one more tear into the couple. He could see Louis fall apart at the sight of Eleanor kissing some bloke. Harry is then quick to move on leaving the pieces of the couple in his wake.
There is a persistent nagging in the back of his head watching tall and pouty lips in the halls. Patience, he just has to wait, this isn't something that could be rushed. That's why Harry set his eyes on the fake blonde who is currently sitting with him on the side of the school. He finds his interest quickly peaked listening to the others accent. Lots of words such as love and friendship were thrown around. One word that caught Harry's attention was Eleanor.
A few reassuring words sent Niall off to find the girl and Harry once again stood off to the side knowing fully well that Eleanor and Louis would be near each other. Louis' heart was breaking right in the middle of the courtyard. Everyone besides Eleanor knew what Niall wanted to talk about, his infatuation with her was anything, but subtle. He is falling to pieces, one more push, just a nudge and Louis would shatter. Harry could make a count down as they both watch the pair talking. He could practically hear Louis implode as Niall and Eleanor kiss. There is no need for any further assistance, all he has to do was sit back and watch everything else fall into order. Harry knows that one look at what was left of Louis and she would fall to pieces before trying to fix him leaving a destroyed Niall in her wake.
His attention is once again drawn away, but not to anything new this time. They return to Zayn with his black hair and fuck you posture. It would all come crumbling down soon enough. Harry could feel the excitement coursing through his veins at the very idea. He knew this conquest would be far better than Liam with his unruly hair and wide eyes.
Harry knows this will take longer; this will require far more planning and more after school attention. While they are more hidden, with a line of plaster covering them, the more he studies the more noticeable the cracks become. This would just make the triumph that much greater, the extra work just adds to the reward.
All it takes is convincing a teacher to let them work together due to their grade differences and a few subtle actions that weren't all that subtle. A catch of the eye and a few brushes of their fingertips is what sets everything in motion. Everything is done in the privacy of Zayn's bedroom; Harry doesn't bring people to his house, far too personal. Zayn takes longer than Harry expects, but the cracks begin to appear, they always do, and just like that Harry is in. It is all a slow process; it takes weeks before Harry brushes his lips over Zayn's cheek before he is heading home one night.
It is all a secret, no one knows about the two, only that they are working on a project together because everyone wants to know what Harry is like. Harry is such a mystery that their peers just have to know more. Zayn makes up a few things here and there that eventually make their way back to Harry, but he never says a word. Allow people to think what they want because no one will say anything to him directly.
Things begin to fall into place as the looks and the touches grow more heated. Their after school sessions begin to last longer and the amount of time spent working on the project lessens. More time is spent learning each other’s bodies versus the English assignment that they both know Harry will have done by the time its due.
The couple's actions grow bolder, Harry being the one to instigate them, but Zayn puts up little resistance. Skin brushing under tables and kisses being stolen whenever they're alone, it all grows more reckless as the two become more comfortable.
This by far is the most reckless they have been. They are running out of time, but it seems as if Zayn doesn't mind, Harry always disappears as the bell rings, always before the crowds could appear. He has no reason to doubt Harry pressing him against the lockers. His wrists trapped together above his head in one of Harry's larger hands, the other holding his hip firmly while his torso is pressed flush against Zayns and a leg between them. He keeps the boy pinned against the metal not caring that locks are digging painfully into Zayn's back. His lips are swollen and red from their previous activities. Harry knows the bell is about to ring; everything is planned out perfectly.
His lips brush over the other's ear, "how's it feel to be a faggot?" The question falls from his lips as calmly as if he was asking about the weather. With the question came a sudden shift in the air as Zayn tensed up.
"Wh-what?" His voice is filled with confusion, maybe a bit of fear, and Harry could only smirk practically feeding off of his emotions. "How does it feel to be a faggot? A queer? A poof?" He made sure each word is carefully punctuated in Zayn's ear. By this point his blood had gone cold and he began to try and squirm his way out of Harry's grip. It is too late though, the bell has rang and students are flooding the halls, not everyone notices the scene, but it all it takes is one.
Like a whisper in the wind, it only takes one person to catch it before it turns into a wildfire.
Harry presses their lips together roughly only pulling away after mumbling, "Go die faggot." Words that Zayn had just repeated to Liam only months before. Harry disappears into the crowd without another word, because Harry is good at disappearing when he wants. Leaving Zayn standing there with people staring and phones out. Harry doesn't bother to stay and watch for his reaction, Zayn is predictable, and he knows what would happen.
However, neither Harry nor Zayn notice the familiar face standing off to the side with a smirk of his own.
While Liam isn't as avid of a watcher as Harry, while he doesn't have the same desire to destroy what is perfect, he does have a desire for revenge. Liam is clever; he can read people without much effort. He can see Harry isn't as mysterious or complicated as people seem to think, he just requires a certain type of understanding. An understanding that Liam knows how to provide, but also knows how to manipulate.
Because Harry likes to destroy what is perfect, and Liam is awfully good at pretending.