Um, so this is an edit, but feel free to hate on this, or give constructive criticism? Love ya, hope you have a great day!

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People claimed that your shadow knew everything about you. It followed you everywhere, watched your every mistake, copied your every action. However, if your shadow did have a purpose, it certainly wasn't to stop you from making erroneous mistakes. Although it was doubtful that anyone's shadow had a conscience or any feeling. Shadows were just something that occurred naturally, not something that you were in control of. Well, not really, anyway. But if anyone at Smithston High cared at all about their peers' actions, they certainly didn't show it, and neither did their shadows.

A great example of this was the fact that one of Harry's close friends was currently being punched in the face repeatedly, and instead of helping, the entire lunchroom was gathered around the scene, watching it all occur.

So Harry decided he would be the first to defy society's invisible and undiscussed guidelines, as if he hadn't done so before. He happened to be in the lunch line while all of this was taking place, so he handed his friend his tray to hold on to as he pushed his way through the crowd towards the chaos.

Nick, the one who was being assaulted, was currently punching the boy back, obviously not terribly injured, much to Harry's relief. The only downside of this was the fact that the boy, well man really, punching him was taking close to no damage, most of his friends either laughing or just gaping at the fact their friend was beating up someone they knew.

And if the fight was over anything besides the fact that Nick was openly gay, then someone in the staff would have intervened. But this school was filled with homophobes, the staff and students both. In other words, no one cared to stop it, so no one did.

"Okay, thank you, James. I think he's good and fine on black eyes for now," Harry said, stepping in front of James. He was the co-captain of the school's football team, and easily the most popular guy in the school.

"No one asked you, Styles," he growled, looking Harry up and down. "Now get out of the way," he nudged Harry aggressively.

"Make me," he snapped back at him whilst patting his friend on the shoulder, "C'mon, let's go get some ice," he spoke towards Nick.

"Harry, I'm fine, really."

"Styles," James growled again. "Get out of the way, we get it, you love your many, many, boyfriends, but I wasn't done," he drawled out loudly, drawing a few laughs out of the crowd.

"He's not my boyfriend," Harry said, pushing him out of the way, "And by the way, it's called treating people with kindness, you should really try it sometime," he said sarcastically, gently nudging people out of the way, clearing a path for him and Nick.

"Just leave 'em alone," a voice said from behind them. "They're not worth it."

Harry rolled his eyes and continued to follow Nick. He turned down the hallway towards the boy's bathroom, which again, he rolled his eyes at.

"Nick, the nurse's is that way," he laughed.

"I know," he said, continuing to walk.

"So why are we going to the restroom?" Harry asked, already knowing the probable answer.

"Because." Nick turned around. "It's not that bad," he stated, despite the fact that he was currently bleeding from his lip and eyebrow.

"You are annoyingly stubborn," Harry grumbled, as Nick started walking again.

"Harry!" a voice called out. Harry turned around to Liam Payne's face moving towards him. "Wait up!"

"What?" Harry asked suspiciously. He was one of James's close friends as far as Harry knew, and the other co-captain, but surprisingly, not one of the "laughers" as he had nicknamed some of the members in James's inner circle, for obvious reasons.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry about what happened," he said, offering Harry a small smile.

"Um, thanks," Harry said, confused, and not entirely sure why he was apologising.

"Me too!" Niall popped around the corner, almost running into Liam as he rushed towards Harry.

"You didn't do anything, Nialler," Harry laughed, ruffling his friend's blonde locks. "Wait," he looked at him. "Where's my food?" he asked, looking at Niall's currently empty hands.

"I may or may have not eaten it," he laughed sheepishly.

Harry chuckled at his friend's incredible appetite as he glanced back at Liam. Harry cleared his throat. "Was that it?" he asked, trying not to let his current feelings about Liam leak into his voice.

"Um," Liam looked away awkwardly. "Is there anything I can do?" he asked, genuine sympathy obvious in his voice.

Harry studied him for a moment more before finally speaking. "Some ice would be great." He watched him carefully. "Thanks."

"No problem," Liam walked off in the direction of the nurse's office.

"So, what all happened to Nick?" Niall asked, who had obviously not been paying attention. But he was always more concerned with food than he was with the conflicts in his life.

"He's got a split lip and he's bleeding just below his eyebrow, maybe a couple of bruises," Harry said as they began walking again. 

"Oooh," Niall whistled. "Doctor Harry in the house!"

"You sound drunk," Harry commented as they neared the bathroom.

"Why thank you." Niall bowed.

Nick was sitting on the counter, leaning towards the mirror, dabbing at the cut on his face, a black eye already beginning to form.

"Jesus, Nick," Harry sighed. "I told you we should've gone to the nurse."

"Nah, I'm good," he laughed.

"Aren't you always good?" Niall asked with a snort.

"Mhm," he dabbed at it a bit more, his tongue sticking out in concentration. "What I do want to know though," he continued, "Is why James assumes that any guy that helps me is my boyfriend," he said, feigning exasperation. "He goes to another fucking school, for fuck's sake."

"I don't know mate." Harry leaned up against the counter.

"And I didn't know that you had a guy, on the other side," Niall pretended to rap, only getting eye rolls from Harry and Nick.

"Ice, as requested," Liam popped into the already crowded room.

"Thanks," Harry took the bag from him, "Here Nick, catch."

As Nick tried and failed, to catch the bag of ice, Harry turned back to Liam, still skeptical. "Why're you even bothering to apologise anyway?" Liam was kind of nice and all, but he never bothered to stop fights and such. To Harry, he was just one of the popular guys that probably didn't give a shit about anything but his ego, which was most likely why he was here.

"I just feel bad," Liam rubbed at the back of his neck. "I don't think it's fair. The way they treat you all," he gestured to the three of them.

"Two things," Harry said, crossing his arms. "What about all the other fights and comments and bullying, hm?" he raised his eyebrows, his skepticism more obvious now. "Second," he started, interrupting the starting-to-talk Liam. "Why do you care to apologise now, of all times?"

"Uh," Liam paused, his face scrunching up into a nervous wince. "Well, you're a nice guy, and..." he paused again, glancing away. "Peace-making, I guess?" he shrugged.

"Well, that's nice isn't it," Harry said. He was almost positive that Liam was just here to spy on them for James or something. Or again, to benefit his ego. "Well, thanks for the ice and everything, but we're goo-"

"Liam?" a voice called from around the corner. "You in there lad?" a face, followed by a body, walked into the already crowded bathroom. Louis Tomlinson. With the entrance of their fellow student, the somewhat easiness of the room quickly changed to awkward tension.

He didn't hate Louis like he hated James, if hate was even the word for it. Louis was the kind of guy that sat to the side and laughed but never did anything, and it was irritating. Well, that wasn't necessarily true, he had seen Louis throw a couple of punches, but still, they weren't to James, so it didn't matter. All Harry knew was that there was the kind of people that hid behind their popular friends to pretend that they were tough. And Louis definitely seemed like that kind of guy. But he was also on the football team, and most of them sat at James's table, which only stereotyped him even more in Harry's book. Harry and Niall were the only exceptions, he played keeper, and Niall was a sweeper. Harry usually avoided conversation with the teammates unless they initiated it, whereas Niall talked to everyone, even if they were stuck-up jerks.

"C'mon mate," Louis said, looking around at the individuals in the room, watching Harry and Nick especially, both of who were staring at him with equal distaste. "The bell's gonna ring soon," he continued. He was quite handsome, if Harry was being honest with himself. Dark, feathery hair that was mussed to one side, his blue eyes standing out against his tanned skin. He seemed to be wearing a tank-top even though it was mid-October, an Adidas zip-up hoodie covering his arms, with sweatpants to match. Harry's eyes flicked back up to Louis' face, his eyes sparkling as they met Harry's.

"Hullo, Louis," Niall smiled at him, shocking Harry out of his staring, his face reverting back to its original frown, which he had not realised had morphed into an "o" shape while he had been studying Louis.

"Hello," Louis smiled back, looking away from Harry.

"Ah, yeah," Liam said, studying the room, realising that both Nick and Harry were glaring at Louis. "I was just getting some ice for him," he gestured to Nick, "Since you know..." he trailed off.

"Yeah, I know," he finished for him, glancing at the other three, looking for their reactions. "You did, so let's go. We're gonna be late," he looked at his friend, then back at the other people in the room again, something undecipherable flashing through his bright eyes.

"We should probably be going anyway," Nick hopped off the counter, his face clean and no longer bleeding.

"Yeah," Harry muttered, straightening up so the counter was no longer supporting his body weight. "Let's go, Niall, Nick," he grabbed his friends, gently pushing them towards the exit. "Thanks again Liam," Harry smiled, his eyes flicking over to Louis against his will.

"See ya," Liam smiled back, nudging Louis with his arm, which he then waved reluctantly, to Harry's surprise. He raised his eyebrows at Liam. There was something up, Louis was acting normal, but Liam was being abnormally nice. And the fact that he was forcing Louis to do the same was even weirder.

-~-

"You were totally checking him out," Niall flicked Harry in the back of the head.

"For the last time Niall," Harry sighed. "I'm trying to work," he leaned farther over his paper, trying to avoid Niall's pencil.

"You don't deny it," he said to Harry. 

"I'm not gay," Harry continued to write. He didn't even like Louis, especially not like that.

"But you're not straight either," Niall laughed, flicking him again.

"Niall, I swear, I'm gonna fail calculus," Harry swatted at his friend's hand.

"You should talk to him after practice," Niall continued.

"Mr. Styles, Mr. Horan, for the second time, please stop talking, or you will get detention," Mr. Taylor's voice boomed from the front of the classroom, he glared at the two of them. Harry turned around, giving Niall an "I told you so," look. Calculus was one of the three classes he had with Niall, but thankfully, he was alone with absolutely no one next period. Well, except for the other twenty-three kids in his class. And Nick.

"Sorry mate," Niall laughed. "But it's not my fault he," he pointed to Mr. Taylor, "Hates us."

"It is your fault, actually." Harry let out a small chuckle.

"Detention! Tomorrow, after school, if it happens again it'll be a weekend as well."

"For fuck's sake," Harry groaned, "Thanks, Niall," he said sarcastically.

Harry settled back into his notes, hoping that Niall would leave him alone, which thankfully, he did. Under the surface, Harry was seriously stressed about his calculus test tomorrow. Maths had never been his strong suit and with football and all of his other classes, he hardly had any free time, and the free time he did have was usually not spent on improving his academics.

He had passing grades in every other class, even in science, which he had been terrible at in his seventh and eighth year, but had miraculously turned it around within the last three years. However, if he wasn't able to pass calculus by the end of the semester, he was more than likely just signing himself up for summer school with Mr. Rogers, the school's custodian. Harry rubbed his forehead, trying to ease away the beginning of a headache. Maths are so stupid, he thought to himself. Why do we need to learn this shit anyway? He groaned aloud. He sat there for a moment, contemplating whether or not to just pull out a book instead of filling out the notes in front of him.

The bell rang from the speaker above Harry, he looked up, thankful for the sudden interruption. He got out of his seat, gathering his supplies, his curls falling in front of his eyes, clouding his vision momentarily. As he was walking out of the classroom, trying to get past the steady stream of students flooding in, he tripped, which was not surprising, Harry being Harry and all. Thankfully, the only thing falling to the floor was his books.

"Shit," he muttered, reaching down to gather his things.

"Let me help you, mate," a student said, crouching down next to Harry. "I'm Zayn," the guy smiled, his hands gently placing Harry's fallen belongings in a neat pile. Surprisingly, Harry hadn't recognized him, probably meaning that he didn't have any classes with him, or he wasn't on the football team. Probably both.

"'M Harry," Harry stood up, immediately suspicious after what had happened earlier.

"I know," Zayn laughed, "You're welcome, by the way."
Now Harry was more confused than ever, sure, he didn't know Zayn, but he did know that he was friends with Liam, and now it was two guys being abnormally nice to him, both of whom had friends and reputations to keep. Which wouldn't keep too well if they continued to talk to Harry.

"Thank you," Harry tried to laugh along with him, "I should probably be going," he pointed in the direction of his next class.

"Later then," Zayn walked into Harry's previous class.

"Okay then," Harry said awkwardly, starting down the near-empty hallway. He was almost positive he was going to be late. Although Mrs. Crowick was a kind teacher, she was very strict about students being punctual in her class.

As expected, the bell rang a moment later, right before he was about to set foot in the classroom. He groaned, opening the door, instantly gaining the entire room's eyes.

"Mr. Styles," his teacher announced.

"Mrs. C, I dropped my stuff, and-" Harry protested.

Mrs. Crowick cleared her throat, stopping Harry mid-sentence. "Please take your seat," she finished.

Harry let out a sigh of relief, as he took his seat next to Nick, thankful that he had avoided a second detention.

"I feel as if most of you aren't ready for our exam next Monday," Crowick started, "So if you do feel ready for your test next week, please raise your hand, so I can figure out what to do today," she finished, pacing around the room, her hands resting on her pregnant belly.

Harry raised his hand, studying the room in the process. This class was one of the four that he had with James, which was incredibly frustrating and distracting. Louis was also in his class, also incredibly annoying and very, very loud.

"Okay then," Crowick clapped her hands together. "Those of you confident in your skills, you may have a free period, everyone else, please use this as an opportunity to study," she stated, walking back towards her desk.

"Two more periods," Harry muttered to himself. "Only two," then he had practice and homework. Damn, was life fun.

-~-

All Harry really wanted right now was to go to sleep. However, the boy's locker room was incredibly loud and reeked of sweat. Be that as it may, Harry enjoyed football, and if that meant that he had to play even when he was tired, then he would, the thrill of being on the field, and the bliss of preventing the other team from scoring was one of the only things Harry enjoyed in his slow, meaningless life. He sighed, finishing the knot on his right cleat, double knotting it for good measure.

"'Ello," Niall slapped him on the back, his face lit up with a smile.

"Hey," Harry started pulling his long hair up into a bun. That was probably the main reason why people thought he was gay. He had long hair and hung out with one gay guy and everybody automatically assumed that he was also into guys. But of course, if he shared with anyone that he had a somewhat strange obsession with women's apparel and nail polish, that would make him seem even more gay. So of course he didn't. And he wasn't gay. He didn't think so anyway.

"Um, hello?" Niall asked, waving a hand in front of Harry's face. "I was talking to you."

"I said hi," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "What'd ya need?" he turned to face his friend.

"I asked if we had a game this Friday, but if you're off in Lu-Lu Land, I can ask someone else," he scoffed, feigning offence.

"Well," Harry began to pick at his nails. "It's not my fault that you forgot that we do, indeed have a game Friday evening," he laughed, turning around. The rest of the locker room was sorted into three groups, little cliques if you would, with only eleven people on the team. James and his friends in one corner, joking and laughing, along with the occasional glare toward Harry. James's group was the majority of the team, with Niall and Harry in the far corner, and surprisingly Liam, as well as Louis on the other side. Harry sighed, turning back towards Niall who was smirking at him.

"Don't even-" Harry started.

"Aw, look," James said, walking towards the two, also interrupting their not-so-wonderful conversation. "It's the lovebirds," he said, making kissing noises.

"Oh fuck off James," Niall said, all of his cheery attitude gone. "You know that the both of us aren't gay."

"Well," James said, picking at his nails for a moment. "We know you're not," he poked Niall in the chest. "But Harry here's never said anything about it," he smirked as if he knew something.

"Cause I'm not," Harry laughed, trying to push past James. "Now move, or we'll be late."

James moved, he and his friends laughed at Harry. He felt his face heat up even though what they were assuming wasn't true. "Also," James laughed. "You can't be 'late' to fucking football, mate," he said, earning some laughter from his friends.

Harry turned around. "You cannot shut up, can you?" he laughed in frustration, about ready to tear his hair out."There's literally no purpose in going up to people who aren't gay, and fuck up their day just because you," he pointed at James accusingly, "Have one hell of a homophobic arse." There was silence for a moment, the entire room stunned at Harry's outburst. He wasn't usually loud or violent, but when it came to his friends, he stood tall to defend them. "So," Harry said, getting up in James's face, "Do everyone here a great favor, and shut, the, hell, up."

"You know what Styles?" James pushed Harry away from him. "I'd say the same for you." He punched Harry in the jaw. Half the room laughed as the other gasped at James's violent approach. "Why the fuck did you think I would listen to you and your stupid little speech?"
"I don't know," Harry rubbed his jaw. "I'm surprised you understood it, knowing how few brain cells you have," he smirked, winning a few chuckles from James's friends. James glared at them, causing it to stop immediately. Harry continued to smile, preparing himself to throw a punch if needed.

"Oookay," Liam walked between the two. "I think we're supposed to be on the pitch now," he pushed the two of them farther apart. "So, save the fighting for later. Well, not really but-"

"Stop jabbering, Payno," Louis put a hand on his friend's shoulder as he looked between Harry and James, the latter shooting him a very pointed glare.

"He has a point, Harry," Niall said, nodding his head towards the door. "Let's go," he turned around, but not before flipping James off, another rare move for Niall.

They walked out of the locker room into the biting cold outside. It wasn't rare for there to be multiple fights all on the same day, just rare for Harry to get involved in it. Harry was willing to admit to himself that he liked the attention, just not from people like James and his friends. But, even as important as any attention was to his ridiculously large ego, his friends always came first. Well, Niall and Nick always came first. They were the only people Harry really called friends, and even Nick wasn't super close with Harry.

"Hey, you good, mate?" Niall asked, tapping his friend on the shoulder.

"Yeah," Harry muttered. "Just thinking."

The field was extremely wet because it had rained the night before, and was probably a recipe for disaster with his teammates' expensive, white, cleats. It was cloudy, and the wind whipped briskly through Niall's hair, making it stand up.

They messed around for a bit, kicking the football around. Even though Harry was the goalkeeper, the coach still forced him to practice fundamentals with the team as well as skills that were necessary for his position on the team. He and Niall weren't half-bad either, definitely not as good as Liam or James, but decidedly crucial to the team.

The coach blew his whistle, calling the boys to him in fast sprints that had drops of water flying from their cleats. Harry's personal opinion was that it was way too cold for football, but the coach said that as long as it wasn't freezing or frozen, there would be games and practice, and he honestly had a point with their tournament coming up.

"Okay, listen up lads," the coach wrote something down on his clipboard. Probably taking attendance. "We'll be trying something new today, partner warm-ups," he sighed, his warm breath freezing in the cold air. "And they're pre-picked," he finished, moving his clipboard down to his side. The team groaned, there wasn't a likely chance they would've gotten to pick anyway. After all, they were immature, irresponsible, teenage boys that would probably mess around if allowed to train with their friends.

"So listen up, we'll do that, and then we'll do a five-on-five scrimmage since Horace is gone today." He flipped a piece of paper up off his clipboard, studying it for a moment.

Harry sighed as the coach began reading off the paper. He crossed his fingers mentally, hoping that he and Niall would be paired together.

"...Styles and Tomlinson, and Craigs with Horan," the coach finished with a smile.

Harry groaned in frustration as he began to search for Louis, who was laughing and chatting with Liam, oblivious to what the coach had just announced.

Harry grabbed a ball, dribbling and maneuvering it in a way that kept it continually under his feet. On a normal day, they would do their normal warm-ups and then work on whatever the coach felt they needed to improve on. He continued messing around with the ball, assuming Louis was still talking with Liam. And then he accidentally kicked the ball back when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

Louis leaned down and collected Harry's terribly misplaced ball. "Here you are," he handed Harry the ball.

"Thanks," Harry said, giving Louis a sarcastic smile. "I was going to get it myself," he started dribbling again.

"You do realise that we're supposed to be practicing right now?" Louis teased in a not-so-friendly manner.

"I do, actually," Harry said with a smirk as he continued to mess around, not giving Louis the ball.

Louis sighed, simply sticking his foot out in a strange maneuver so he now had the ball. He then smirked at Harry, kicking the ball up into his arms.

"Show off," Harry muttered.

"You start," Louis ordered, giving Harry the ball.

"I'm fine, thanks," Harry stated, sarcasm heavy as he kicked the ball back.

"Fine," Louis huffed. "You're a terrible partner."

"Well, no shit," he laughed.

"I swear," Louis said, turning around. "Why are you even on the fucking team if you hate everyone here?"

"I don't," Harry said, bittersweetness lining his words. "Everyone but Niall on this trashy ass team are just wankers. That doesn't mean I hate them," he began picking at his nails, noticing there was still a bit of black polish on his pinky from last night. He didn't think he could ever hate anyone, not even James. He just strongly disliked people like him. Including Louis.

"Same fucking thing," Louis growled.

"It's really not," Harry smiled, enjoying this. Pissing people off was his favorite activity by far. Especially if it was stuck-up jerks like Louis.

"Can we just fucking get this over with please?"

"You sure say fuck a lot," Harry commented.

Louis groaned, "That's it, I'm done, you can find someone else to warm up with."

"Fine," Harry said, feigning annoyance. "Just stop saying the fucking f-bomb."

"You just said it!" Louis whined in frustration, pointing at Harry.

"So?" he stuck his tongue out at Louis.

"Ugh," Louis groaned, rubbing at his eyes.

"What are we doing boys?" the coach shouted, walking over towards the two.

"He," Louis said, pointing at Harry, "Will not stop fricking talking," he glared pointedly, carefully avoiding fuck, as Harry had requested.

Harry simply shrugged, neither denying nor admitting it.

"Styles, Tomlinson," the coach looked between the two hopelessly. "Stop running your mouths and please, at least try to get this done. We have a game against Manchester this weekend, and they're the best team on the scoreboard right now."

"Sorry coach," Harry muttered, turning towards Louis, whose face went from a somewhat doting expression to one of frustratingly annoyed, the same as before.

Harry raised an eyebrow at Louis, who only glared at Harry. "Are we going to go then?" he asked expectantly.

"Fine," Harry said as the coach walked off.