fic summary: louis gives his teacher a blowjob and gets sent to boarding school, where he meets an incredibly young and lanky and adorable harry and basically falls in love with him.
warnings: i’m too american for my own good so excuse my mistakes, really very long this chapter (soz if ur rushing), idk i guess perrie/zayn but it’s nothing too extreme, a lot of grease references
previously: blonde babe AKA perrie is now going to school with them, harry’s upset with louis because he hung out with ben and didn’t tell him, and it’s maybe liam’s fault for tattling but in his defense he can’t lie.
Tuesday, 8:20, main caf
Liam knows it’s his fault when Harry walks into the cafeteria Tuesday morning and walks by their table without saying a single word. Louis looks small in his seat and Liam clears his throat awkwardly, not sure where to look.
“He doesn’t look too happy,” says Liam, sipping on his OJ. “Rough night?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Louis replies. He looks murderous and Liam can’t help but flinch at his startling glare. “Harry won’t speak to me.”
Louis is miserable all day. He tries texting Harry, maybe once or twice (or like fourteen times) -
Please let’s not fight :( xx
can we talk ?
What r u doing after classes??
are you going to respnd to me at all…? x
can i get a sign that ur alive? a number? any #? u could be laying dead in the streets right now and I’d have no idea bc ur not replying to me!!!
Alright well niall has just confirmed wit me that u r alive
I love you :(
- but the younger boy never replies. Not even a number.
In art they’ve started ‘painting’ and Louis is so upset over Harry he thinks that maybe this is his tragic college downfall; the part of his life series where he turns into one of those troubled teens and starts using drugs recreationally.
His teacher Mr. Greene mentions the beauty of watercolor paintings and Louis thinks to himself depressingly that he should use his tears to make a watercolor and give it to Harry as an apology. That bit makes him laugh, but then Aiden is giving him weird looks so he stops.
Ed doesn’t really speak to anyone when he’s working but occasionally he’ll glance over at Louis and frown. Louis’ got one hand occupied to keep his head up and the other to swirl lazy patterns around on his paper, over and over until the paper is too thin and it’s seeping into the newspaper underneath it.
He doesn’t get it, why Harry’s mad at him. He tries to remember what it’s like being fifteen, recalls a time when he was so insecure he locked himself in the toilet just because his boyfriend called David Beckham fit. Louis remembers screaming at Ethan to fuck off and sobbing on Stan’s shoulder for three hours afterwards because Ethan never said Louis was fit. Never outside of a bedroom, anyways.
Being that pathetic was something he tried blocking out most of the time, though.
Harry is silent and cold during lunch and when Ben stops by their table (‘You left so fast yesterday you forgot your folder. Text me when you’re free, seriously, we should hang out…’) Harry is so annoyed that he gets up and leaves, the double doors to the caf slamming shut behind him.
Niall gets up after Harry because he forgot his books and doesn’t end up coming back. He texts Liam about ten minutes later saying he found him in the toilets and ‘they’re talking’.
Zayn knocks their feet together under the table after Louis goes a whole minute without blinking. “You okay?”
“No.” Louis replies honestly, finally shutting his eyes. “We haven’t fought before. Not like this. He won’t even talk to me.”
“He’s just a moody teenager, Lou. He’s gonna get pissy when things don’t go his way,” Zayn tells him quietly. “Just…give it a day, yeah?”
“I don’t want to give it a day,” Louis growls. “I was barely even there for our own argument and he’s this upset? What’s gonna happen when I actually fuck up? Is he going to run away? Set up boobie traps in my room? Cut off his ear? I’m fucking worried, Zayn, seriously.”
Zayn shrugs calmly, sipping his tea. “He can be a bit over the top.”
“What do I do?” Louis moans, sounding tired.
“I dunno,” says Zayn, shrugging. “Maybe just don’t fuck up?”
Tuesday, 16:35, waiting creepily outside Harry’s door
Give it a day, Louis reminds himself, standing outside of Harry’s room with a cup of coffee in his hands. (He’s not sure if it’s very good, but he spent about 10 minutes fixing it, so it really fucking should.) Just one day.
That’s what, like, 22 more hours? Or, technically, did the day start out yesterday when he found out Ben joined them at the library? Or did it begin when he ignored Louis at breakfast?
See, it’s all too confusing, and Louis’ never been very good at maths.
Louis knows it’d be easier for him to wait if he had other things to do. But the thing is, he doesn’t. He has absolutely nothing else to do, and even if he did, he wouldn’t be doing it because he’s so upset he can’t think straight. His backpack is still hanging off his shoulders and his school shirt (buttoned to the very top) is so tight around his neck he thinks he might suffocate and die from like, actual fashion suicide.
Fuck it, Louis thinks, knocking quickly on Harry’s door. He frowns dejectedly when he gets no response, and proceeds knocking even harder until his knuckles start to hurt and he’s decided whoever first thought knocking was a good idea was a serious idiot.
He switches his tactics to banging his fist impatiently, hoping it’ll be more effective.
Someone yells from down the hall for him to shut the hell up and Louis growls, shouting back a childish, ‘You shut up!’ before sighing sadly and setting his cup of coffee in front of Harry’s door. He runs a shaky hand through his hair and lets it fall back at his side.
Maybe he should take a shower. Yes, that’s a good idea. He should shower, do his homework, and take a nice nap. Possibly (most likely) not in that order.
You just need to distract yourself, he thinks, backing away from Harry’s door.
Louis shuffles into his dorm, throwing his bag to the floor and freeing himself of his constricting uniform. He takes an impossibly long shower and conveniently forgets all about his homework, more or less collapsing into his bed once he’s dressed in joggers and Harry’s unwashed Ramones t-shirt.
Louis falls asleep like he’s been sedated, eyelids heavy and limbs heavier, his sheets feeling softer than ever against his skin. The smell of Harry sticks to his clothing and fills Louis with a false sense of security, willing him closer to sleep.
(It works, and Louis wonders how Harry can have such an impossible effect on him when he’s not even really there.)
Tuesday, 21:45, upstairs recroom
“So…you didn’t even see it yourself?” Niall asks, hovering greedily above a plate of leftover fish and chips.
Harry rolls his eyes for about the fiftieth time that day. “No, Niall. But he also didn’t deny it when I said Ben was hanging all over him! Ben, the individual who fancies my boyfriend.”
“Well isn’t that worth something, though? Him not denying it?” Niall wonders, giving him an ‘I’m unimpressed with your logic’ look. “He could’ve said Liam was wrong and told you he was alone, don’t you think?”
“So? He’d been texting me the whole time he was in there and he didn’t say anything.” Harry argues.
Niall gives him a look like he’s the biggest idiot he’s ever met. “First off, Harry: he was in a library, not some crazy drug ridden rave. Second: he was texting you. The whole time he was there. With his friends, while doing homework. Are you crazy, Styles? He’s obsessed with you - he was trying to keep you from getting yourself all worked up! Which, by the way: you did.”
Harry pushes the fringe out of his eyes and gives Niall a contemplative look. Since when did he get so fucking rational? Honestly, he’s getting relationship advice from a guy who tried making balloon animals out of condoms.
“Listen - I don’t mean to be an arse about this whole thing,” says Niall, picking at his plate. “It’s none of my business, really. I just like Louis. I think he’s cool. And I don’t want to see you guys argue over something so pointless when you guys are seriously good for each other. Like, how often does that happen in college, if you think about it?”
Harry gives him a sad look. “He is really great,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around his legs and resting his chin on his knees. When he looks up at Niall his eyes are wide like saucers, green and shining with almost-tears and Niall shakes his head emphatically.
“No, no, no — no crying, I can’t deal with that shit, alright?”
Harry makes a pathetic noise and buries his head into his chest so Niall can’t see. The blonde boy looks around wildly, scooting over on the couch cushions and putting a hand on his back. “He’s so perfect.”
Niall groans. “Yes, yes, he’s perfect, Hazza,” he says. “D’you want some of my chips?”
“No,” Harry says, like the offer offends him. “I’m not hungry, Niall! I’m upset.”
Niall shrugs, secretly pleased because good, this food is mine anyways and Harry is trying to blink away the tears burning at his eyes but it’s hard because this is all just embarrassing, really.
“So,” Harry says suddenly, “You and Liam? Are you two okay?” He asks, offhandedly.
Niall looks caught off guard. “Er - wha’? I mean, yeah, I guess.”
“I just remembered we never had time to talk about it as a group. Louis went downstairs with Liam and then the party was happening and the next day everything seemed…tense.” He explained, shrugging.
“Oh, yeah,” the blonde thinks for a second. “Things were a bit weird, I guess.”
Harry swallows. “What happened?”
“Er, well. I was with Zayn watching TV or summat and Louis came downstairs lookin’ all friendly and cheery and like, too-nice. At least for Louis, anyways,” he says, and a smirk pulls at Harry’s bitten lips. “He told us we had to talk to each other, ‘cause ‘ignoring the problem wasn’t gonna solve anything’. And then he kinda - sat in between us on the floor all calm and such and asked us questions like we were bein’ interviewed or something.”
“Did it help?” Harry asks, refusing to look up.
Niall laughs. “Obviously. I told Liam it bothered me how he lets people walk all over him. And Liam told me I’m his best friend and he cries when we fight, ‘cause he loves me most. Well — he didn’t say that exactly, but that’s only ‘cause Zayn was there, too.”
Harry is quiet for a few moments, focusing on controlling his breathing.
“What time is it?” He asks, lifting his head and rubbing at his eyes.
“‘M gonna go talk to him. Do you think he’s in his room?”
“He probably hasn’t left all day, Hazza.”
“Well, he wasn’t at dinner,” Harry argues irately, standing up and straightening out his t-shirt nervously. “What if he slams the door in my face?”
Niall laughs. “Then call the cops, ‘cause it’s not him.”
“Right. Okay. I’m going to go now.”
“Good luck, mate. Try not to cry!” He yells after him, and Harry flips him off. Niall sniggers, finishing off his chips. “Whatever. You love me.”
Tuesday, 22:04, Louis’ dorm
The wake up call Louis receives after three hours of deep sleep was certainly not welcome. It’s pitch black outside and somebody is banging on his door like their life depends on it. In his first few moments of consciousness he thinks he must be dreaming, because he’s about 99% positive that the voice behind it is Harry’s.
He thinks maybe it could just be the Harry-obsessed part of his brain acting up again.
“Louis? Please — open the door?” Yup, that was Harry.
Louis makes a weak noise and sits up, forcing himself out of bed. He pads across the cold wooden floor and opens his door without asking who it is. Harry is standing in front of him looking incredibly…frazzled.
“Hello,” says the younger boy in a tight voice. His eyes are rimmed red and his lips are chapped and bitten and he’s got Louis’ cup of coffee wrapped tightly in his hand and Louis really wants to kiss him so he does, pushing himself up on his toes and pressing their lips together lightly.
“Hi,” Louis replies and Harry’s breath stutters nervously, long fingers wrapping around his wrist. “Come in.” He tells him, pulling the younger boy inside his small room.
Harry rubs his eyes and sits down cautiously on Louis’ bed. “I came to talk to you and saw this by my door,” he says, wiggling the cup in the air. From where he was standing it looked like black squiggles covering the length of it but up close it was Louis’ handwriting, ‘i love you. please accept my crappy coffee as an apology. L x’
“Guess my timing was off.”
“No, it’s not,” says Harry, shaking his head. “I’m so fucking sorry, Louis. I’m an idiot, I am.”
“No you’re not -”
“I am, though!” He interjects, throwing his hands up frustratedly. Louis sits besides him, resting his hands on the bedding so his fingers are just barely brushing Harry’s thigh. “I was just jealous, I - I don’t know why. It’s just like: you’re gorgeous, yeah? You’ve already had boyfriends and you’ve had sex and you’ve got kinks and specifications of what you like in bed. You can legally drink and you have an amazing arse and you’ve got this amazing sense of confidence and for some fucking reason I cannot understand, you’re dating me, like, of all people.
“I’m just - terrified constantly that you’re going to realize how much better you could do once you go to uni. The fact that there is a person,at this school, who thinks about you the way that I do - it drives me mad, Louis. Just thinking about it makes me sick.”
Harry is out of breath when he stops talking, finally glancing at the older boy to try and decipher his expression. He expects the confusion, expects the sadness, even expects the slight judgement in his eyes. What he didn’t expect, was the anger. Louis knits his eyebrows together, pursing his lips sourly before shoving Harry back by the shoulders.
“What the hell -” Harry yells indignantly, propping himself up by his elbows.
Louis looks at him with wide eyes, like he maybe, sort of regretted doing that. Harry drops his head back down on the mattress to look at him. Louis looks sad now. “Have I really been such a shitty boyfriend that you don’t understand how fucking perfect I think you are?” He asks, sounding desperate.
“I’m with you because you’re fun, and loyal, and beautiful, and I can tell you anything and you always accept me. Being with you is literally the only thing I look forward to on a daily basis and — you not talking to me kills me. I’m so in love with you it’s terrifying, Harry, and when you asked me to be your boyfriend I only paused because I’m pretty sure my brain shorted out,” he tells him, eyes focused on Harry’s.
They’re so close he can feel the younger boys warm puffs of breath on his cheek, feel his soft curls brushing against his forehead. Harry’s eyes close, long lashes splayed against his cheeks.
“I love you so much I’d do anything for you, I’d never try to hurt you. I thought you knew that?”
Harry makes a small noise, straining his neck so can he kiss Louis longingly, fingers sliding into his hair. Louis rests his hands gently on Harry’s face, and his cheeks are soft and burning hot because the personal tone of this conversation is making him blush. “I love you,” Harry murmurs, snaking an arm around his neck. “You’re not a shitty boyfriend, Louis, I’m so dumb.”
“Urgh,” Louis growls, sitting up on his knees and pulling Harry up after him. “You’re not dumb.” He scolds him, pointing a finger at his nose.
“Even Niall thought what I was doing was stupid!” Harry argues. Louis laughs and wraps his arms around his neck. “I caused a scene over you going to the library with a guy who fancies you.”
“You’re not dumb,” the smaller boy says lowly, kissing his cheek. “But I mean, if you’re going to be jealous, at least make it sexy. It’s always been a dream of mine to have two guys to fighting over me…”
Harry rolls his eyes, detangling himself from Louis’ arms and sliding under the covers. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he says, tossing off his shirt. Louis plops back down on his arse, crawling after him and planting a kiss on his lips. “Do you mind if I sleep here tonight?” He asks, and Louis says nothing, just slides under the covers next to him and switches off his lamp.
They fall asleep wrapped up in each other, Louis’ leg slung over Harry’s hip and Harry’s arm wrapped protectively around Louis’ waist. They each wonder how they got so lucky so young, wonder how many people in the world are aching for somebody to share a bed with, to cuddle and hold onto in the dead of a cold winter night.
(Louis wakes up from time to time and admires the younger boy, kisses his jaw gently and tells himself he’s the luckiest boy in the world.)
Wednesday, 5:50 am, Louis’ bed
There are some things in Harry’s life that will never get old.
For instance, the gratification of a perfect cup of coffee early in the morning; the simple joy of lazy days spent watching his favorite films; the familiar smell of his mum’s cooking during the holidays…
The utter feeling of bliss when waking up to Louis giving him head. It’s a very nice, slightly overwhelming feeling that takes over the pit of his stomach and makes his legs go numb. Unlike anything else, really.
Harry’s brain is still fuzzy when he opens his eyes, but he’s vaguely aware of the fact that his pants have been pushed down around his knees and that Louis is currently planted in between them. He’s got his head bobbing steadily, fingers curled loosely around the base of his cock so he can stroke him slowly in time with his mouth.
Louis glances up at him when he makes a small noise, making sure Harry’s fully awake when he deliberately sucks harder on the head of his cock, hollowing his cheeks and curling his tongue around the hot flesh.
Harry gasps suddenly, tossing his head back and clenching the sheets. Louis smirks and pulls back to take a breath, sinking back down right away. He takes in as much of him as he can, which is hard to do because A. Harry is quite big for his age and B. he did not properly prepare himself for this or think things through before he decided he’d give Harry head at 6 in the morning.
Nevertheless, Harry barely lasts a minute before he’s writhing and bucking into Louis’ mouth, fingers splayed against the sheets like he’s not sure what to do with them. Louis is appreciative of the enthusiasm, jerking him off with his free hand and letting the younger boy fuck his mouth, uncaring of how much his throat would hurt later.
Harry lets out a deliciously loud moan, feeling a tight, overwhelming heat twist at the pit of his stomach. “Oh — JesusfuckingChrist,” Harry chokes on his words, coming hotly into Louis’ mouth. He lets out a stream of tiny whimpers as his hips buck weakly, riding out his orgasm best as his tired body can.
The older boy smirks around his cocks and pulls off, sitting back on his heels. “Was that good?” He asks, wiping the back of his hand across his wet mouth.
“Amazing, yeah, just…fuck.” Harry murmurs, brushing the curls out of his eyes and trying and failing at sitting up. Louis giggles breathlessly, curling his arms around Harry’s narrow waist and hauling him forward.
“I think your come face is the best thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” Louis says endearingly, kissing him gently on the nose.
“Wow, thanks,” Harry murmurs sarcastically, hand roaming softly along the older boy’s stomach before cupping his obvious erection and squeezing. Louis’ jaw hangs open, moaning softly. “I think I’ve forgotten what yours looks like.”
Louis bucks into his grip, fingers winding into the younger boys curls. “I’ve got about an hour to remind you.”
Wednesday, 7:30 am, main caf
Everything becomes normal again rather quickly. Louis and Harry are practically sitting on each others laps during lunch. Liam can look at the two of them in eye when he speaks to them, and vise versa. Niall stops giving weird philosophical advice and gets back to eating, and Zayn is openly talking about his problems with blonde babe, or, as of recently: Perrie Edwards.
“Wait, so — you didn’t even say ‘hi’?” Louis asks, blowing at his steaming cup of tea.
“It’s not like she said ‘how are you?’ and I ran away. Jesus. I just…left the room as quick as I could.”
Harry gives him a contemplative look. “But…she definitely saw you?”
“Yes,” Zayn groans. “But then yesterday, the moment she walked into our class she found me. She said she thought she was hallucinating when she saw me. Apparently I’d given her the impression I was in uni or something? I dunno. You should’ve seen her face, though. Like she thought she’d never see me again.”
“Well, I think that’s quite nice…” says Liam, shrugging. “Why don’t you just give her a chance?”
Louis nods quickly in agreement, practically lurching across the table in excitement when he speaks. “This is like Grease!” He nearly screams. “Cute blonde goes on holiday and meets some dark-haired bad boy who uses too much hair gel. They get on, she shows up at his school, and he acts like a total arse. Said blonde is heartbroken and bad boy feels like an idiot!”
“I’m not an arse, — and she isn’t heartbroken, you twat!”
“Wait, but, this is perfect!” Louis laughs. “You’re like Danny, and Perrie is like Sandy. And then Liam and Niall can be Sonny and Putzie — his idiot friends who like, sing all the time and eat a lot. And then I’m Kenickie - duh - and Harry can be Rizzo.”
“Why are you so familiar with the characters of Grease?” Zayn asks exasperatedly.
Harry narrows his eyebrows. “Wait — why am I the only other girl in this situation? Danny has three friends!”
“Yes, love, but then I’d still be stuck as Kenickie and I’m pretty sure he wasn’t seeing seeing the curly one behind Rizzo’s back. Besides, Rizzo and Kenickie were in love. And you’ve both got curly hair.” Louis explains.
“Just because our hairstyles match up to a fictitious couple’s doesn’t mean that we’re soul mates, Lou. Not everything is a fucking musical,” Zayn argues.
Louis frowns. “But it can be…if you believe.”
Zayn rolls his eyes and tears the crust off of his sandwich.
“No offense, mate, but you haven’t had a girlfriend in like, 3 years,” says Niall.
“No offense, but that’s not an insult, it’s a fact,” Zayn replies, smacking him upside the head. “And I don’t want her to be my fucking girlfriend, for Gods sake.”
Harry leans forward on his elbows, looking thoughtful. “When I first met Louis, I thought he was annoying and loud and kind of rude. But then I started talking to him and realized how awesome he was. We’re like, the happiest ever now.” He says, grinning at the noise Louis makes.
The older boy beams, kissing his cheek messily in a way that could (hopefully) be seen as platonic.
Zayn watches them warily. Harry and Louis are lovely together, he knows they are, but it’s unmistakable the way Harry freezes a bit after Louis touches him, sinks back into his seat and keeps his eyes trained on his food. Zayn doesn’t look at Louis, isn’t sure he wants to see whether or not Louis caught on, too. It’s sad, honestly, like a sad fucking teenage drama and he can’t keep pretending it’s not weird or fucked up Harry isn’t letting them tell people.
Louis clears his throat and pokes his arm to catch his attention. Zayn nods, eyes lazily watches the way the steam curls out of Louis’ styrofoam cup. “Yeah, you’re right,” he says calmly, glancing at a suddenly tired looking Louis. “I’ll try and be nicer.”
Wednesday, 11 am, west wing
“I’m taking you on a date this weekend,” Louis announces as Harry walks him to class.
“Are you now?” The younger boy asks.
Louis nods, blue eyes sparkling. “Yes, I’m taking you to Leeds. I want to walk around the shops and hold your hand, and I want to eat at a restaurant and feed you food like a codependent elderly couple, and I want to kiss you in the snow, and take a picture of it, like the disgustingly in love teenagers we are.”
(It’s times like these when Harry wishes he could stop being such a coward and kiss him; kiss him like two people in love should kiss before they drop each other off at class, before they part ways for the rest of the day.) Louis stops in front of his class and leans against the cobblestone wall.
“What if it’s not snowing when we kiss?” Harry asks, hoping the way he’s hovering over the shorter lad doesn’t look like he’s ready to devour him.
“Then I’ll push you into a snowbank and do it there.” Louis says, cocking an eyebrow and smiling devilishly.
Harry smiles, all wide and dimpled and bright. “Okay,” he says, wrapping his arms tighter around his books. “What are you guys doing in art?”
“Our teacher is letting us ‘freestyle’ paint,” Louis says, shrugging. “I’m awful and my seat partner is apparently Leonardo whatever-the-fuck -”
“Yes! He’s already on his fourth one today and I can’t even draw a proper flower. I’m feeling extremely self-conscious.” Louis says, sticking out his bottom lip in a pout.
Harry frowns along with him, poking the side of his stomach. “Paint me something.”
Louis looks up. “Liiiike?”
“I don’t know! Something cute.”
“Something cute?” Louis repeats, laughing.
“Yeah, like…puppies and hearts and shooting stars. That type of stuff,” the younger boy suggests. “Or draw me. I’m cute.”
“Yeah, yeah. You’re bloody adorable.”
Harry beams as the bell sounds. “Bye,” he says, squeezing his arm. “Think of me.” He says as he walks away.
Louis smiles, getting that ridiculous fluttering feeling the pit of his stomach. (He had butterflies. He was eighteen and he was getting butterflies.) “Always,” he says back.
Thursday, 16:50, Auditorium
“The fact that I’m still in this fucking thing is astounding to me,” says Niall in a gruff voice as they take a quick break. It’s one of those rare days where the drama crew doesn’t have rehearsal and the choir had the auditorium to themselves.
Miss. Holly is unforgiving as usual and has scolded Niall a number of times, picking on him mercilessly and altogether making him feel like an enormous idiot.
“What?” Liam asks in a surprised tone. “But — you love chorus.”
Niall rolls his eyes, sucking on the top of his water bottle. “The only reason I haven’t left is ‘cause all we used to do was goof off. But now you get solos in every song we sing, Harry is being watched like a hawk ‘cause of his problem with texting, and Zayn is always asleep or staring or like, thinking. About things.”
“I’m bored, too,” Zayn says, not sounding too worried about the idea of Niall quitting. “And I don’t get solos.”
“Yeah, but you don’t care,” the blonde mutters and Zayn says nothing because, yeah, he really didn’t. Zayn just likes to sing, doesn’t care if anyone hears him or not because it’s just nice, singing. He liked it.
The doors to the auditorium swing open and an unlikely pair walks in, catching the attention of Harry in particular. The curly haired boy perks up noticeably, unthinkingly fixing his shirt and standing up.
“Hello, Curly,” says Louis, arms crossed as he looks at the younger boy. He looks like he wants to devour him and Harry looks like he’d let him. Next to him is a very cheerful looking Perrie, and like. It’s not that Zayn doesn’t like her, it’s just like, what the fuck are you doing here? You know?
She catches sight of Zayn and waves. Zayn returns it weakly and looks helplessly at Liam, who ignores him.
Harry sits on the edge of the stage so his legs dangle off, saying hi to Perrie and letting Louis put his hands on his knees. Zayn wonders how anybody can’t realize that they’re fucking, but then again, he didn’t get it either for the longest time, observant as he is.
Miss Holly struts back onto stage, wordlessly demanding the classes attention. The redhead turns to find Harry focused elsewhere and rolls her eyes, giving the two boys an impatient look. “Excuse me, Mr. Thompson, would you ever so kindly bugger off? Rehearsals aren’t quite done yet.”
Louis glances at the older woman above him, giving her what Zayn likes to call his ‘stinkface’. “It’s Tomlinson, actually,” he says.
“Lovely. And, well, Mr. Tomlinson. While your intentions of supporting our choir are greatly appreciated, you’re a bit of a distraction.”
“I can’t help that I’m so handsome, Miss Holly.”
“Nobody’s blaming you, darling. Sit down.”
Louis smiles despite being yelled at and takes a seat in the front row, watching Harry as he returns to where he was before. Zayn knits his eyebrows together, confused as to why Perrie is still here. Zayn smacks Harry’s arm.
“Why is she here?” He hisses. Harry shrugs innocently in response.
Zayn digs his mobile out of his back pocket. What r u doing??? he texts Louis hurriedly. He watches as the older boy reads his message, sitting back in his seat before typing a response.
calm down weirdo. i’m trying to be frenchy.
Harry and I have changed roles so he’s doody (the third friend btw idk if ur familiar) and i’m frenchy. it’s more fitting. I’m a good friend like frenchy is and they get together anyways.
u r so dumb and i hate you. NOT EVERYTHING IS GREASE.
Maybe not to you, Malik. now get back to singing.
When rehearsals are finally done Louis’ bum is sore from the stiff seats and Perrie hasn’t shut up for more than five minutes at a time.
Louis likes the girl, thinks she’s amusing enough and now that he knows her and Zayn have a thing it gives him even more of a reason to talk to her. He found her walking alone in the halls looking incredibly confused, and when he recognized her (blonde, short, obviously new to school) he introduced himself.
He told her he’s a friend of Zayn’s and she seemed incredibly pleased by that. “I was actually looking for the chorus instructor? My mum told me to join as many clubs as possible and my guidance counselor told me I should take up a free period. Figured I’d try and talk to her.”
“Oh, I know her! Awful woman, she is. Horrid,” Louis crows in a posh accent.
Perrie had laughed. “Well I’ve already told my mum I’d try and join! Do you know where she’d be?”
Louis smiled because yes, he did. Harry had been texting him all afternoon complaining about how they were practicing in the auditorium and the older boy had just been on his way to see him.
Immediately, Louis texted Harry. Perrie follows him obediently and blabbers on about how awful her first day was. Louis, as usual, fails at being sympathetic.
change of plans I’M FRENCHY AND YOU ARE DOODY
who is doody? are you ok?
from grease. doody and frenchy went to the dance together. honestly, harry.
oooooh okay! Yay, I’m not a girl !
No, you’re still prtty girly ;) I’m bringing Perrie now, don’t tell zayn I wanna see his face..
She wants to join chorus. prepare yourself.
He will notttttt be pleased…
I’m too busy thinking about whether or not I could convince miss holly to make u guys sing a Grease song … wouldn’t that be gr8?
Now, Louis is stretching and yawning tiredly. He pities people who don’t have pillows for a bum because even he is in pain.
Miss. Holly sits at the piano to organize her note sheets and Perrie takes it as an opportunity to hop on stage and talk to her. Harry looks incredibly happy to be done and practically sprints offstage, giving Louis a near painful hug. Louis pets his hair and tucks his head into his neck.
(Nobody in chorus cares about Harry or Louis because they’re much too occupied racing each other to a water fountain or complaining about how much they hate their lives. It is possibly the only upside of rehearsals besides getting to sing as loud as he wants for hours on end.)
Over Harry’s shoulder Zayn is giving him a death stare and Louis bites his lip. “Do you want a hug too, Zayn?” He asks.
“No,” Zayn replies pointedly. “What the hell are you doing? Why are you talking to her?”
Louis pulls away from Harry, crossing his arms. “Have you forgotten that I’m gay?”
“I don’t think anybody could forget that, Louis,” Zayn says. “If I wanted to spend time with Perrie, I’d ask her myself.”
“Well, one: you weren’t. And two: she asked me if I knew where she could find the chorus instructor herself. She didn’t even know you’d be here,” the older boy explains. “See, she’s talking to Satan’s Mistress, not you.”
Harry snorts at the nickname and pulls on Louis’ sleeve. “Can we leave? M’ so tired.”
“Of course,” says Louis. “Goodbye Zaynie. Fingers crossed things for Perrie go well, yeah?” He smiles cheekily and Zayn flips him off, walking in the opposite direction. He’s the last one to leave apart from Perrie.
Friday, 19:00, mealtime
“So, what’re we doin’ this weekend?” Niall asks as they sit at their regular table.
“Sleeping,” says Zayn.
“I was thinking about getting back into running,” Liam replies. “We’ve got an indoor track and I never use it —”
Niall scoffs. “Ugh, boring,” he drones. “What about you two?”
“I’m taking Harold on a date.” Louis says simply, smiling when Harry blushes. “I’ve got a whole day planned.”
“Aw, Lou. You’re so thoughtful, who’d have known?” Liam jokes. Louis throws a piece of broccoli at him and makes a face.
“I’m extremely thoughtful. And romantic. Right, Harry?”
Harry nods dutifully and swallows his food. “The king of romance,” he says. He’s sipping tentatively on something hot and Louis looks at it worriedly, ripping it out of his hands and pulling the top off.
“Coffee? Coffee, Harry, at this time of night? You’re never going to sleep!” He complains, looking very upset.
“No — I will, I promise! Give it back, please -”
“I swear, Harry, if you’re tired tomorrow -”
“I won’t be, promise. Give me back my coffee. Please?”
Louis glares at him, scowls unsurely before sighing and handing it back to him. “Whatever. I don’t care if I have to drag you around by your leg, tomorrow. You better be awake.”
Saturday, 18:45, Leeds
Louis was not joking when he said he had an entire day planned out for them.
They’d left at half past noon, and because Louis was in Year 13 he got a ‘special privilege pass’ to go off campus without a teacher or a group of people to accompany them. Leeds is practically iced over anyways this time of year and Louis doesn’t think there’s anyone besides them who are crazy enough to leave the safety of their dorms.
Despite the bitter weather, Harry thinks Leeds is lovely. It’s only about 20 minutes away from Fulneck and Harry honestly can’t believe he’s only been there once before.
The first part of their date is a pit stop at a local cafe. It’s tiny but perfect, with large, dark oil paintings of vague cities and a cluster of purple velvet couches and tall potted plants that complement the chipped, recycled bookshelves in the corner.
Harry is enamored by it, tugging Louis behind him and telling him they should come here all the time. A skinny, bearded barista with tattoos covering his entire body takes their order and asks them if they go to school around here. Harry tells them they go to boarding school and when he leaves Harry gawks at him, squeezing Louis’ hand. “That guy was taller than me,” he says. “Did you see all his tattoos? He had, like, fifty.”
“I know, babe,” replies Louis, melting into his side. Harry pokes his cheek and giggles.
“We should get tattoos, wouldn’t that be sweet?” He asks. Louis doesn’t reply, just nuzzles into his neck. “Oi, why are you tired? This was your idea!”
“You kept me up,” Louis growls, biting his shoulder and ending up with a mouth of fuzz. “I fell asleep twice and you woke me up both times.”
Harry frowns. “Is it a crime to be horny when I’ve got such a hot boyfriend?”
Louis sticks his tongue out, and Harry bites it playfully. “Cute,” he mutters, fiddling with his cup of tea. “I’ve got something planned for us, yeah?” He asks, and the younger boy nods animatedly, curls bouncing. Louis grins and downs the rest of his earl grey, tossing it in the bin before dragging Harry out of the cafe with promises of returning soon.
They see a film at some tiny indie cinema that Louis knew Harry’d eat up. It’s a nice one too, albeit slightly dingy. The wallpaper is old and peeling but they’ve got freshly made popcorn and reclining seats and Harry picks the most ridiculous title he can find (The Fearless Vampire Killers, AKA, Pardon Me, But Your Teeth Are in My Neck).
There are only two other people in the theatre with them and they sit in the row furthest back, snogging shamelessly whenever they feel like and holding hands and feeding each other popcorn and crying with laughter at the terrible acting. When it’s over Harry stuffs their ticket stubs in his pocket and tells him it’s the best movie he’s ever seen.
After their film they walk around for an hour, checking out small shops and buying more coffee and Louis gets them matching bracelets with their initials on it and gives him an ‘L’ one and keeps the ‘H’ for himself. Harry says it’s probably the cheesiest thing anyone’s ever done for him but he puts it on anyways and pushes Louis against the exit door, snogging him senseless.
After exactly five hours of wandering around, Louis leads Harry to a restaurant close to where they started their journey. He’s made reservations and Louis orders him a glass of white wine because he’s got his ID and Harry certainly looks above sixteen anyways. The waitress doesn’t question him, giving them both a warm smile and promising to return shortly.
“This is, like, so lovely, Lou,” Harry says quietly, wishing he’d worn something more formal. He’s got on about four layers of clothing and his hair is matted from wearing a beanie all day. Of course Louis looks perfect, he thinks annoyedly, admiring his perfectly messy hair and pink cheeks. “I feel like I’ve costed you a fortune.”
Louis rolls his eyes and reaches out his hand, wiggling his fingers so Harry gets the message and slots their hands together. “Nah,” says Louis, sipping his wine tentatively (because yes, maybe it was a bit expensive) and shrugging.
Harry frowns, reaching for his glass as well. “You’re sure?”
“We’ve never been on a proper date before and that makes me sad…” Louis mutters, knocking their feet together. “Now, drink your wine and let me get you tipsy. This is the last stop of our magical evening and I’d like to ravish you later.”
Harry blushes, biting his lip before following Louis’ wishes.
When their waitress returns Harry orders something simple and cheap and Louis wants to argue but Harry insists that he really wants ravioli so Louis lets him, ordering himself some tasty sounding dish with pork and mashed potatoes and figures they can share if Harry isn’t full enough.
They finish the night with a second glass of wine and cupcakes from an adorable bakery called Jensen’s and Harry holds his hand as they walk back to the train station, feeling bubbly and giddy and light on their feet. Harry places feather light kisses on his nose and his chin and his cheeks and finally his lips, not caring if the old lady and her granddaughter sitting across from them look on.
Harry wants to stay like this forever, wants to take up Louis’ offer on moving away and buying a tiny flat in London and working in a coffee shop and sharing a tiny bed that pulls out of the wall. He wants to hold Louis’ hand when they walk down the street and give him kisses when he comes home from work and tell people that he’s his boyfriend when they ask who the gorgeous brunette waiting for him is.
He wants to bake for him and buy them expensive wine for their anniversary and share a closet with him and wake him up early in the morning when he’s late for his early-shift. He wants to get tattoos and dedicate them to Louis and he wants to buy a fish with him and name it something dumb like Gertrude and have their family over for Sunday dinners and takes pictures of them kissing and make it his phone’s wallpaper.
Harry wants a lot of things, he knows, but he only wants them so much because he knows what he wants is so easy for him to reach out and grab. He could have everything he wanted with Louis and all he has to do was stop fucking caring so much about the few people who would disagree with his relationship.
He opens his eyes when the trains comes to a screeching halt and Louis tells him, ‘getup, getup, getup, we’ll miss our stop!’. Harry’s heart beats uncertainly in his chest, feeling incredibly fond toward the older boy. They stumble out of the automatic closing doors and Harry leans forward, kissing Louis needily.
“Iloveyou. I love you. So much,” he murmurs, twirling his fingers in Louis’ hair. “You’re like. The best thing. You know?”
Louis chuckles, wrapping his arms around Harry’s so his hands lock behind his back. “Yeah, I feel the same about you.”
Harry kisses him again, intertwining their fingers once he pulls away. They take their time walking back to school, purposely waiting an impossible amount of time before crossing a street or walking up steps. When they fall back into Louis’ bed Harry shows him how much he loves him, riding him hard and coming loudly, caring fuck all about the thin walls. When he’s done, Harry falls onto his back, blissed out and moaning as Louis kisses up and down his chest, biting bruises into his collarbones and pressing his lips to his wrist, over the L charm resting on his pulse.
Louis pulls the covers over them and brushes the hair out of his eyes, looking at Harry like he’s some sort of precious gem he’s afraid of losing. “King of romance, right?” Louis asks breathlessly into his ear, fingers curling around the back of his neck. Harry nods, eyelids too heavy to open.
“Yeah,” Harry thinks his mumbles, utterly exhausted. “Kinguffromans. Loveyou.”
Louis laughs lightly, kissing his forehead. Harry can’t remember ever having such a lovely evening.
Alright, so that was my first attempt at angst. If you couldn’t tell this chapter was long as fuck so thank you for reading. Kind of upset I couldn’t use more description during the smut but this chapter was dragging on :/ Maybe next time. ~
ALSO in case you’re wondering, like it bothered you or something, I made Niall say ‘summat’ which I know is like English slang but I’m just assuming Niall would use a bit of UK slang after living there for so long? Alright JUST DEFENDING MYSELF.
Sorry this dragged on ;_; Sorry if the Zayn/Perrie parts were weird.
Also this is Doody and Frenchy I swear it’s really his name. I’m just assuming Louis would know all the names bc he’s a huge Grease fan and he was in the play so like he knew all the cast?