(no subject)
Title: Young Adult Friction
Characters/Relationship: Stylinson
Synopsis: While away at boarding school, Harry and Louis form a tentative friendship (or something more) as they try to circumvent the typical high school politics.
Rating: PG-13
Notes: aimmyarrowshigh gets all the Stylinson.
Last Updated: 03/02/20 @ 11:11 p.m.
Harry watches the boy collect himself after a group of students breeze through and rearrange all the French poetry. He knows better than to expect tears, and behind the glasses it's really hard to judge, but he thinks he sees at least minor condensation. That's the only reason Harry pays attention to Louis now. He's seen this kid around before. He's probably been in one of the many gaggles of kids who make fun of Louis on a daily basis, even if he hasn't actually said anything against Louis' character. But today, his heart twinges, and he just feels. He's tolerated the bullying because it's easier in this place to go along with what the masses want.
Louis removes a woolen cap out of his back pocket and pulls it down over his face. Harry thinks there's something really sad about someone who can't even find his voice, not even to stand up for himself. Harry stands and walks over to Louis. He very gently taps him on the shoulder, and it makes his guts lurch when Louis flinches. Louis removes the cap and looks at him, his glasses slightly askew.
"What?" asks Louis. Harry expected a stern, cold voice. What he gets is much worse. Resignation is written over all the contours of Louis's face, and his voice reflects what must have been a very quiet internal death over the two years he's attended this school.
"Can you help me find some of the books for my class assignments?" asks Harry.
"Yeah, sure," he says. "Where's the list?"
Harry removes a crumpled piece of paper from his back pocket and hands it over. Louis regards the paper for a second before moving toward the librarian's desk. The librarian isn't in. She's on holiday, but Harry suspects that Louis is filling in to fulfill a credit for graduation.
"We don't really keep these first editions," says Louis. "You'll have to get on the Internet for them. We have a lot of the others though. Which ones do you want now?"
"I guess the Neruda and the Tao Te Ching."
"All right. Just ... wait here," he says.
Harry goes over to the group of boys laughing. There's five of them, people Harry knows. He smiles as he pulls the book out of their hands. One of the boys has drawn parts of the female anatomy in the margin, and from the primitive look of it, Harry can tell he's never actually seen a vagina.
"What are you lads doing with this?" he asks.
"Just having a bit of fun, Styles," says Kirk. He thinks the American's name is Kirk.
"Yeah, well if you don't fucking stop it, we're going to let all the lads know about what you and Katie Miles were doing in my dorm last Wednesday."
Katie Miles is not real. Kirk will tell his friends she's some townie slut. Harry just smiles placidly as the heat rushes into Kirk's face. Kirk and his friends retreat quickly, and Harry is left alone with Louis in the library.
"Who's Katie Miles?" asks Louis quietly. He hands over three books and sticks the cap back in his pocket.
"Me," says Harry casually while thumbing through the Neruda. He thinks he hears Louis choke on his own spit.
***
Again at the library, Harry is watching Louis squat in front of a shelf of biographies. Harry isn't sure what part of him has suddenly opened up to the idea of Louis, but the boy has been in his thoughts constantly. Harry has been leering, which is unbecoming of any young playboy studying abroad. It's just that Louis has the nicest behind of anyone in the entire school--girl or boy.
The way he's licking his lips, and the way his shirt rides up so that Harry can see the waistband of his black boxer-briefs (and, of course, Harry can tell that Louis is the boxer-brief type of guy despite the nerdy exterior), it all makes Harry wonder if Louis isn't more aware of his body than Harry has been giving him credit for.
"What are you doing later?" asks Harry. Louis doesn't respond. He cannot possibly be this aloof, Harry thinks. "Oi, Louis."
"You're saying my name wrong," says Louis.
"What?"
"It's Lou-ee, not Lewis."
"Since when?" asks Harry.
Louis bows his head forward like he's already tired of this conversation. He tilts his head sideways to look at Harry. "I had it legally changed last year just to keep everyone on their toes."
"Rude," says Harry. "Come on. What are you doing tonight?"
"I have a date at half past eight," says Louis.
"A date? Like ... with a girl?"
"Yeah," says Louis. "Why?"
He can't act like he's devastated, although there's a bit of a twinge behind his heart that could just be indigestion. "Well, want to get some tea or something? I know a place."
"We can, yeah. We can talk about what a terrible reader you are," says Louis.
"What do you mean by that?"
Louis grins from ear to ear and looks around. There's a few people at the library, most of them buried so deep in their books they haven't even been disturbed by the conversation. Louis stands up and pulls up his trousers. "You're shouting in a library. You've been on that page for probably ... what, thirty minutes now? Do you need a tutor?"
Louis seems like he's joking, but Harry seizes the opportunity to insinuate himself into Louis's life. "Yeah, actually. My grades are shit."
"It's because you're distractable," says Louis.
"That's not even a word," says Harry.
"No, but it gets the point across, yeah?" says Louis. "I'll tutor you, but I have a fee."
"Are you worth it?"
"Every penny," says Louis.
"We'll discuss it at tea, then," says Harry.
"Where are we meeting?"
"The square at five?"
"Yeah, sure," says Louis.
The way Louis says it, though, Harry wonders if Louis is even going to show. He collects his things and goes home to primp and preen a bit. He's not sure why he's so set on impressing Louis, but there's a compulsion driving him forward in whatever sly endeavor this is. Harry gets to the square at ten to five, but Louis doesn't show up until half past. When he does show up, he appears timid.
Harry watches him as he looks around. It clicks that Louis thinks it's a set-up. That's why he was playing it cool in the library. Louis legitimately thinks that Harry would lure him here just to be mean. He doesn't know how he can possibly convince Louis that it's not a set-up. Finally Louis is within reach, and all Harry wants to do is hug him.
"Hi," he says with a smile.
"Hey," says Louis. "Are we going?"
"Yeah. You know that place on Friedlander?"
"I don't get out much," says Louis.
"Right. Well they have the best scones and some pretty ace pound cake."
"Lead the way," says Louis. It hurts Harry someplace deep that this boy trusts him so little that he's not even willing to turn his back on Harry. The compulsion inside him grows stronger. He's torn between holding Louis's hand and slinging an arm around his shoulder.
"So, who are you dating?" Harry asks after a few moments of silence between them.
"Nobody you'd know," says Louis.
"A townie, then?"
Louis just shrugs. "Just ... her name is Fizz, the girl I'm seeing tonight."
"Fizz. What kind of name is Fizz?" asks Harry.
"It's a family name," says Louis.
Those are the last words Harry can get out of him until they get to the coffee shop. Harry holds the door open, and Louis ducks in. Harry watches a smile ripen on that lovely little face, and he knows he's somehow done something good. Louis is wearing stripes beneath his peacoat. He peels his layers away, and Harry can't help but watch the show as Louis settles in to a small table near the back of the shop.
"You're leering," says Louis.
"Sorry. I just ... do you like it?" he asks.
"Like what?"
"This place," says Harry. He removes his knee-length trench coat and drapes it over the empty chair between them.
"It reminds me of home. Coffee shops don't change no matter what the setting," says Louis.
"Where are you from?"
"Doncaster," says Louis. He knows he doesn't have to specify. He and Harry are both British, and Harry will most likely get the reference.
"So, how did a strapping young boy from South Yorkshire decide that he wanted to attend our prestigious school?"
"He didn't," says Louis. "My step-dad sort of made the decision for me. He works at a factory, and has his whole life. So he wanted to give me an opportunity to bring my family up rather than drag them down."
"He sounds charming," says Harry.
"He's not all bad. He's better than most guys Mum dated. At least he kept his hands to himself and treated my sisters like they were princesses. I won't speak ill of him for that."
Harry just stands there contemplating Louis as the boy's face shifts between two bipolar emotions -- peace and worry.
"What would you like to drink?" Harry asks once the conversation has expired.
"Coffee, please, and maybe a piece of the pound cake you were talking about."
Somehow it goes unspoken that Harry is treating. Louis doesn't argue the fact, and so Harry isn't forced to bully him into accepting a favor. It's the first conversation they have with each other that goes without saying. Harry orders and returns with the spoils.
Louis smiles like a small kid and actually has to restrain his hand under his leg to stop himself from diving right into the pound cake. Harry laughs and takes the seat right beside Louis. Something is drawing him forward. Maybe it's Louis's nonchalant attitude toward him. Most of the girls (and even, he admits to himself, some of the guys) can't keep their hands off him.
"So, can I ask you a question?"
"Sure," says Louis. He's pouring chocolate sauce and cream into his coffee and dunks the pound cake into the drink before he even takes a sip.
"Why ... why does everyone seem to--"
"Beat up on me?"
"They don't hit you, do they?" asks Harry.
"Does it matter if the abuse is verbal or physical?" asks Louis. "It still fucking hurts either way."
"I only mean ... is there something ..."
"You're asking me, the victim of verbal abuse and derogatory put-downs, what I feel I do to provoke my abusers? Watch it, Harry. That's dangerous thinking," says Louis.
"No, no. I wasn't, I swear!" says Harry quickly. "That's not what I was trying to say!"
"What, then?"
"I'm trying to ask you if I can help."
"Harry, you do understand why I don't trust you, right?"
"Yes," says Harry, and it hurts him to admit it. "I've hung out with the people who hurt you. I may not have said anything to you myself, but I didn't try and stop them."
"At least you understand that," says Louis before he takes a long sip of his coffee.
"I'm going to be different."
"Okay, Harry," says Louis.
But he smiles like he wants to believe it.
***
It's raining the first time they kiss. School is on break, and a few quiet souls are left behind to ponder what the word family really means to kids in boarding school.
They have been friends for a whole month now. Louis always disappears at eight on weeknights and will only accept invitations from Harry if they are before eight or after ten. Harry doesn't know who Fizz is. She doesn't go to the school. Harry has even gone so far as to creep outside Louis's bedroom door to see if he can catch a glimpse of Fizz. No such luck.
So Harry is driven slowly mad with wondering what secret Louis is keeping from him.
They're at the library in uniform. Harry had an interview with the Dean about a project he failed to turn in on time, and Louis has to wear his uniform when he's working. He spends most afternoons working, and Harry has grown accustomed to the black shoes, black slacks, white shirt, red tie, and black blazer. He's grown accustomed to Louis saying so little between two p.m. and five p.m. Once he's done with alphabetizing and numericizing (he's not sure whether that's a real word) and shelving his tiny carts of books, he comes over and sits down by Harry.
Harry has taken to bringing treats. Like a cat, Louis comes closer upon seeing flattened pieces of pound cake. His foot touches Harry's under the table, but he doesn't move it. Harry watches him for any sign that he's noticed. Louis smiles around a mouthful of cake and bristles like a little kitten. It's too cute. That's the only word for it. A month ago Louis didn't trust Harry enough to walk in front of him. Now, he trusts him to bring pound cake and even touches his foot under the table.
"So you have a date with Fizz tonight?" asks Harry.
"As always," says Louis.
"I don't suppose you'll ever not have a date with her?" asks Harry.
"They're not actually proper dates, Harry," says Louis. "I have told you that before, haven't I?"
Harry shakes his head slowly. Louis barely knows him, but he can see a mischievous little idea twinkling in Harry's eye.
"Come to my room tonight. I'll let you meet Fizz," says Louis.
"She isn't, like, your answer to Katie Miles, is she?"
"No. She's a real, human person."
"But not a girlfriend?"
"No, not a girlfriend," says Louis. He's laughing like this is the funniest conversation he's ever had. Harry likes the way his whole mouth opens up to the laughter. Harry leans forward and then thinks better of it. Sudden movements scare Louis. Louis stops laughing and contemplates him. "Not here," he says.
"What do you mean, 'Not here?'"
Louis offers Harry his hand. This is a test. That's what Harry keeps thinking. He takes Louis's hand. That's when the chemistry between them shifts. Feelings he's felt for a month suddenly feel reciprocated. Louis leans down and kisses his wrist.
"I mean, someone might see," says Louis. "Come with me?"
Harry nods slowly. Louis stands and escorts Harry to a small office hidden away near the back of the library. Harry has never before seen the office, but Louis flips on the light. The room is filled with a small collection of books that have been well cared for. There's an overstuffed armchair next to a small electric heater.
"What ... what is this?" asks Harry.
"It's my office. The librarian let me have it. It used to be a broom closet or something. She found some extra furniture in storage and had the lacrosse boys bring it up."
"So, what? These are your books?"
"Kind of. I put them in here, and no one else ever asked after them," says Louis. He's squatting in front of the heater, fiddling with the temperature gauge on the back to try and warm up what is a very cold room. "Since it used to be a broom closet, it doesn't have a vent."
Harry thinks he's shivering more because he knows what's about to happen. He wants the moment to last, to linger. The anticipation leading up to first kisses is always better than the kiss itself. Louis puts the heater up on the little desk so its facing the chair. Louis seems as tightly wound as Harry is. He approaches, and the tension between them is like taut piano wire. Harry thinks if he reaches out to touch the air it will thrum.
Harry moves closer, step by tentative step. Louis pushes a hand up Harry's chest and lets his hand settle on Harry's shoulder. There's no way in hell this is Louis's first time kissing a boy. He seems like an entirely new creature--confident, even. Maybe that's Louis's problem in this place. He's so afraid of everyone knowing that he likes boys that he never opens up to anyone.
Louis hooks a finger in Harry's trouser pockets and drags him back until they both fall into the chair. He's not sure which one is going to crack first. Louis seems determined not to make the first move. His mouth just sort of hovers in Harry's general vicinity. Then slowly, painfully, Louis closes the distance between them.
It's not like fireworks when they kiss. It's not like electric currents or palpitations. It's just kissing. Very, very hot kissing. Louis puts his hands on Harry's hip and pulls him closer while Louis adjusts. It's more comfortable this way. Louis nibbles on Harry's lower lip, which makes his whole mouth open wide. Harry has half a thought that it's not fair to start out kissing like that. But if Louis is going to play dirty, Harry figures he knows a few things. He's been the Katie Miles to quite a few boys now, and each one teaches him something new.
But what is Louis doing?
Harry loses his train of thought as Louis runs his tongue over the roof of Harry's mouth. He can't believe he actually whimpers, which makes Louis smile. He pulls back long enough to gloat, to say, "I'm two years older than you. I know a few things."
Louis reclines and pulls Harry closer. Harry takes his blazer off and tosses it onto the floor. He refuses to let shy little Louis get the upper hand. He grabs Louis's hands and pins them behind his head on the back of the chair.
"I don't need my hands to make you whimper," says Louis. And to prove a point, he lifts his leg up and rocks it back and forth between Harry's legs. It doesn't make Harry whimper; the motion makes him keel forward and moan into Louis's shoulder.
"Not ... fair," says Harry.
"We can stop anytime," says Louis.
"No," says Harry. "I want to kiss you."
"Where do you want to kiss me?" asks Louis.
"If you stop doing that with your leg, I might be able ... to figure that out," says Harry.
"I could keep going," says Louis.
"I don't feel like doing laundry."
Louis laughs and tips his head back. Harry seizes the opportunity to latch onto something with his mouth so he isn't embarrassing himself with words. He opens his mouth over the hollow of Louis's throat. Louis seems to purr as Harry sucks a hickey into his neck. Then they're kissing on the mouth again, more feverish than before. Louis breaks his hands free from Harry and pushes his hands up Harry's shirt.
"Okay, we have got to stop," says Harry.
Louis breaks away smiling. "Whatever you say, Hazza."
"I'm going to get you back for this," says Harry.
"I look forward to it," says Louis. He kisses Harry softly on the lips. "Go get yourself ready. Fizz starts promptly at eight."
"What?"
"Go."
Harry kisses him again and stands up. He starts tucking in his shirt and collects his blazer off the floor. "Walk me to my room?"
"I have to close up the library. I look forward to seeing you again in a few hours," says Louis. He stands up and wraps his arms around Harry's shoulders. The hug is sweet, which is more than Harry can say about the feelings coiled in his groin.
The anticipation of the first kiss is always better than the kiss itself. Or so he used to think before he had a first kiss with Louis.
***
Louis is toweling his hair dry when Harry comes in. Louis's room is one of the larger suites that all the senior boys are given upon passing their fifth-year finals. Each room is furnished with a desk, a four-poster bed, and a private bathroom. Harry envies Louis this. He's been showering with the same boys for two years now, and the landscape is getting a bit boring, to tell the truth.
The room looks like a continuation of the small library downstairs. Posters from political riots in the Sixties and bands Harry's never heard of are taped to the walls. Stacks of books and stacks of CD act as tables for little trinkets like Buddha statues and an array of little kids toys from Happy Meals. He can't be sure, but Louis seems conflicted deep down to his core.
"How did I not know about you until this semester?"
"I keep to myself," says Louis.
"Oh, yeah? I seem to recall you invading my personal space quite thoroughly downstairs in the library," says Harry. His fingers are dancing over a row of picture frames. All of them feature Louis with a different girl--all younger, all looking similar to him but with one or two quirks unique to them.
"You're not the only one whose seduced boys in his room," says Louis with a wiggle of his eyebrows.
"Right. A month ago you couldn't even stand up for yourself in the library. How did you get up the nerve to stick your tongue down another boy's throat?"
"Setting aside the fact that you can sometimes be a real asshole," says Louis. "I had friends too. The last of them graduated in the spring."
"So, what, you're passing the knowledge along? In two years, I'll be the one with a huge bedroom where I can lure boys to meet this mystical Fizz?"
"Fizz is on in 10. Do you want to kiss or not?"
Harry doesn't even have time to respond. Just as Louis gets to him, though, the sound of a ringing phone interrupts them.
"That'll be Fizz, cockblocking us," says Louis. He moves to his computer and turns on the screen and the webcam. Before Harry can form an intelligent thought, a little voice is coming through the speakers.
"Louis, are you there? It's all black right now," says the voice.
"Yes, muppet. Give me a minute," says Louis in reply. He pulls the post-it note off the webcam and pulls back. "I brought a friend to see you."
"A friend?" asks Fizz.
"Yes, his name is Harry. He's from Holmes Chapel."
"Hello, Harry," says Fizz. She's got a round face and plaits. Harry can see the resemblance but thinks that this must be Louis's half-sister. "Are you one of Louis's students?"
"You could say that, I guess," says Harry. Louis nudges him in the arm and sits down at the little chair at the desk.
"How is everything, muppet? Did you get the presents I sent you?"
"Yes, and they were lovely. Lottie even liked hers, and you know how she is."
"What about Daisy and Phoebe? Are they okay?"
"Yes, Louis, you worry too much! Mark took them out to the cinema, and later we're all going for pizza at Luciano's."
"I just miss you," says Louis. "I worry about my girls."
"We miss you too. When will you be home?"
"I don't know, muppet. I finish my term in a few months."
"But, it's been a year since we saw you."
"I know. Only a little bit longer, okay?"
Harry feels out of place when Fizz starts crying. It's even more off-putting when Louis wipes a few tears away himself.
"I know it's hard, muppet. I'll be home soon."
"Mom wants to talk to you," says Fizz looking off camera for a minute. "And Lottie."
Harry uses this as an excuse to move off camera. He goes and sits on the bed and plays with the fringe on one of Louis's pillows.
"Hey, Lou," says his mum. Harry feels increasingly uncomfortable. He's not sure why Louis invited him to see this. It's awkward enough that there was a child crying on the other end of the camera, but now there's a mom forcing a smile. A girl older than the last one, but with the same round face, is glaring into the camera.
"Hi, mum. Hey, Lottie."
"We won't keep you long, sweetheart. We just want you to know we're thinking of you. Are you doing well in classes?"
"Yeah, mum. Everything's going really well. The Dean is going to write me a letter of recommendation for Uni and everything."
"All right. You know Fizz just lives for seeing you. We'll try to get you home for spring holidays, okay?"
"Don't worry about it, mum. I love you. Let me say bye to Fizz. Bye, Lottie," says Louis.
"Bye, sweetheart."
"Bye, Lou," says Lottie.
Fizz pops back into view and leans in really close to the camera to give it a kiss. Louis smirks despite himself. "Is it true you'll be home for spring holiday?"
"I'll try my best, okay? I'll do my very best."
"Love you, Lou."
"Love you back, kiddo," says Fizz.
Then the screen goes black and Louis replaces the post-it over the little camera lens. The air in the room is dense as Louis crawls across his bed to Harry. Harry wipes a tear off his face and shakes his head.
"You haven't been home in a year? What do you do on summer break?"
"Not now, Harry. I don't want to talk about it now."
"We're not making out, either. It's not fair to either of us. I don't fit in that family-shaped hole you want to fill right now. Fondling me in your bedroom won't make you feel better."
Instead Harry kicks off his shoes and gets under the covers. The RAs all went home for the holiday too, and so it's just a few stragglers. Somehow, and it's unkind to think it, Harry is sure that no one is going to come barging in on them. Louis looks pitiful but crawls under the covers too. Harry pulls him close, and Louis lays his head on Harry's chest. He pretends not to feel Louis's tears soaking through his shirt. He figures the best thing to be is available, and if all Louis needs is a good cry then who is he to deny him that?
Harry strokes his hair and rubs tiny circles on Louis's back. He can tell almost down to the second when Louis falls asleep. Suddenly the tension in the room deflates until there's just peace and the dim light from the desktop lamp. Harry stays awake thinking about how, twelve hours ago, there was nothing between them but a friendship built on pound cake. Now, at the very least, Louis wants emotionally misguided makeout sessions in his bedroom after crying on Skype with his family.
And also, the way Louis clutches Harry's shirt in his sleep speaks volumes and volumes, but Harry falls asleep before he can ponder it anymore.
***
For weeks they've managed to hide out from the rest of the world. Harry's friends have stopped asking after him, and they just assume that he'll return once he's grown out of this phase, as they call it. He doesn't think this phase will ever end.
He and Louis are laying in the grass in a closed down wing of the school's community garden. They've scarcely heard anyone all afternoon, and they're sure they won't be bothered here.
Louis's weight on top of him is no less comfortable than a really tight hug, and he likes the way Louis is tracing shapes on his cheek. He starts with a square and then a circle, and it's only when he starts tracing Kanji that Harry gets curious.
"You write Chinese?" he asks.
"No, it's Kanji. I mean, I took it a while back when this Japanese student tried to get me interested in it," says Louis. "He was very big on culture."
"I bet he was," says Harry. There's a sly smile playing at his lips, and Louis has no choice but to lean down and kiss him.
So far it's all they've done except for that first day in the library. Both of them are putting off the inevitable. Once sex is involved the politics become different. Louis isn't sure how he'll react to dating the school's answer to Paul McCartney. He isn't sure if it involves coming out, so to speak, or if Harry will still want them to remain secret. He can't decide which will be more stressful for him, either. When they do their quiet little things in private, there's no pressure to be any one way. Louis is preemptively hurt though because what if Harry just wants them to remain secret. What if he's embarrassed or ashamed? That thought is the one that keeps him up at night.
"Where are you?" asks Harry. He pulls back and looks at Louis. Those huge eyes, pupils the size of a sixpence, seem to open wider and gaze right through all Louis's contrived answers.
"Right here," says Louis. He leans in for another kiss, but Harry puts a hand on his chest.
"No, you had something in your head right then. Your brows got all knitted up."
"I just like us. I really like us together, and I don't want--"
"Already trying to get rid of me? That's what you do, huh? You leave people while things are still good so that you don't get hurt. Maybe that's why you don't have any friends," says Harry.
"Fair enough," says Louis.
"Well, you're not pushing me out of your life that easy because I see right through you," says Harry. He presses his index finger gently between Louis's eyebrows.
"Fair enough."
"So, this Japanese boy. What was his name?"
"Bishamon."
"And how did you push Bishamon away?"
Louis smiles. "I didn't. He ran away one night. The idea of him going back to Japan and pretending to be someone he wasn't was too much for him. I woke up one morning with a note on my door that said he'd gone. He writes occasionally. He somehow found his way to Tuscany where he works on a farm."
"What life do you lead?" asks Harry with a perplexed smile. "You turn Japanese boys gay and they run off--"
"Oh, no," says Louis. "I did not turn him. I took one look at him and knew, so whatever it was we did at the Founder's Day Ball is not completely my fault."
"Is he the one who taught you all you know about seducing bright young things?"
"Give me a little credit, Hazza. I'm charming, aren't I?"
"Once you get past the sad, puppy dog exterior, yes," says Harry. "The inner sex kitten is worth it. I still think about that day in the library, sometimes while I'm in the shower alone with my thoughts."
"That was nothing. I was being a tease."
"Don't I know it?" says Harry.
Louis kisses harry on his jaw. Harry tips his head back and watches a cloud float by that looks like an Italian sports car, then a rabbit, then a duck. Louis slips Harry's tie off his head and wraps it around his wrist three times. Harry thinks about stealing one of Louis's ties and wearing it permanently. Louis unbuttons his top two buttons and peels back his shirt.
"What are you doing?" asks Harry. He looks like a four-year-old pondering the mystical nature of a magic trick. He peeks at Louis as Louis begins drawing the same Kanji letters with his tongue right around Harry's nipple.
Louis smiles and begins unbuttoning Harry's trousers. "Seeing how much I remember of the Kanji alphabet."
Harry groans and lifts his hips up. He might just have a new-found respect for Japanese culture before the day is out.
***
Louis is working at their little cafe on Friedlander now. His librarian position expired because he'd achieved his credits and was set to graduate in two months. So Louis now had to get a job busing tables. Harry didn't mind. Louis was as dapper in an apron as he was in a school uniform, and now that he was able to get free pound cake, Louis was developing a pooch.
Harry was quite fond of the pooched stomach. Louis seemed comfortable with it too, oddly enough. Whenever Harry mentions it, Louis says casually, "Oh, I've got my whole life to be a strapping young thing."
Harry lays some euros on the table around closing time. Louis eyes him sternly because this has been a fight with them since Louis started working here. Harry is being too generous. He leaves tips too extravagant for Louis to accept, and Louis always feels a bit like he's rejecting Harry.
"Harry, stop," says Louis.
"I know you want to go home for spring holiday. I'm more than willing to help you pay your way."
"I'm not a rentboy," says Louis.
"I'm not calling you one. Do it for your family, Louis. They fucking miss you. I'll come with you. You can show me Doncaster. We can even drive to Holmes Chapel for a weekend and you can see where I live."
"Put the money away, Harry. Come sit with me in back while I brew some tea."
"Is that a euphemism?" asks Harry.
"No," says Louis. "It's an invitation to tea."
Two weeks later, Harry is in his dorm. Louis hardly ever comes down here because he says he's "infringing" on Harry's "normal" life. It's one of the other fights they have, and just like the euros argument, Louis always seems to win. Today he looks flustered.
It's nine-thirty. Harry's roommate looks between the two of them and then casually dismisses himself.
"What is it?"
"I'll ... I have to go home," says Louis. "I need to borrow a bit of money. I'll pay you back. I've just been to the dean's office and talked to her about an extension on my homework."
Harry shoots up off the bad and puts his hand on Louis's shoulders. "What's wrong? Is Fizz okay?"
"Everyone's good. Just, I need to get home. I guess Mark is filing for divorce."
"I'm so sorry."
"I don't care about him, but I have to get home. Fizz has gone off and no one knows where."
"Stop, Louis. Stop. Of course. We'll get on the next plane, and we'll find Fizz. It's okay."
"We?"
"Well, I can't let you get on a plane alone."
"Train," says Louis.
"Plane," says Harry. "It's faster."
Louis can't say no to him right now. He nods his head. "Yeah, all right. You better go talk to the dean, although I'm not sure how you'll explain this to her."
Harry nods his head, and a flicker of a smile dances across his face. But these are serious times, so he won't tell Louis that the dean will most likely not even notice he's gone. They part ways briefly, and Harry throws as many clothes in his carry-on luggage as he can manage.
He meets Louis on the foyer and they get a cab to the airport together. Harry sits quietly while Louis talks to someone--presumably Fizz--on the other side of the phone. He's speaking quietly and at some point he reaches over to clutch Harry's hand. When he hangs up, he lays his head down on Harry's shoulder.
"Fizz got home," he says.
"Good. We still going?"
"Yeah. Mum needs help. Lottie's being terrible. Thankfully Daisy and Phoebe don't even know what's going on."
"Aren't they Mark's kids?"
"I'm the only one who's not," says Louis. "But he never made me feel bad about it or anything. I just think it's too much for--no, you know what. I'm not going to defend him. I've defended him my whole life. He has the audacity to send me away to boarding school for three years because he doesn't want me to bring my family down. What's he doing, then? He's walking out when things get too hard? Fuck that."
"Don't waste your time being bitter, all right? Put on a brave face for your sisters. It'll be hard enough that they're feeling like shit."
"I will. My mum is taking it kind of raw. Fizz says she left because Mum wouldn't come out of the bathroom."
"It will get better," says Harry.
"Harry, I won't miss him," says Louis.
Harry's not so sure, but he keeps his mouth shut. He even manages to get Louis to smile at the coffee shop in the airport as they trade dollops of whipped cream with each other. Louis licks the whipped cream off Harry's finger and then bites him softly. The sound that comes out of Harry's mouth makes him happy that no one seems to care about what they're doing. God bless progressive countries.
"You're trouble," says Harry.
Louis shakes his head and gives Harry the old bedroom eyes. "Trouble's my middle name."
( Part Deux)
Characters/Relationship: Stylinson
Synopsis: While away at boarding school, Harry and Louis form a tentative friendship (or something more) as they try to circumvent the typical high school politics.
Rating: PG-13
Notes: aimmyarrowshigh gets all the Stylinson.
Last Updated: 03/02/20 @ 11:11 p.m.
Harry watches the boy collect himself after a group of students breeze through and rearrange all the French poetry. He knows better than to expect tears, and behind the glasses it's really hard to judge, but he thinks he sees at least minor condensation. That's the only reason Harry pays attention to Louis now. He's seen this kid around before. He's probably been in one of the many gaggles of kids who make fun of Louis on a daily basis, even if he hasn't actually said anything against Louis' character. But today, his heart twinges, and he just feels. He's tolerated the bullying because it's easier in this place to go along with what the masses want.
Louis removes a woolen cap out of his back pocket and pulls it down over his face. Harry thinks there's something really sad about someone who can't even find his voice, not even to stand up for himself. Harry stands and walks over to Louis. He very gently taps him on the shoulder, and it makes his guts lurch when Louis flinches. Louis removes the cap and looks at him, his glasses slightly askew.
"What?" asks Louis. Harry expected a stern, cold voice. What he gets is much worse. Resignation is written over all the contours of Louis's face, and his voice reflects what must have been a very quiet internal death over the two years he's attended this school.
"Can you help me find some of the books for my class assignments?" asks Harry.
"Yeah, sure," he says. "Where's the list?"
Harry removes a crumpled piece of paper from his back pocket and hands it over. Louis regards the paper for a second before moving toward the librarian's desk. The librarian isn't in. She's on holiday, but Harry suspects that Louis is filling in to fulfill a credit for graduation.
"We don't really keep these first editions," says Louis. "You'll have to get on the Internet for them. We have a lot of the others though. Which ones do you want now?"
"I guess the Neruda and the Tao Te Ching."
"All right. Just ... wait here," he says.
Harry goes over to the group of boys laughing. There's five of them, people Harry knows. He smiles as he pulls the book out of their hands. One of the boys has drawn parts of the female anatomy in the margin, and from the primitive look of it, Harry can tell he's never actually seen a vagina.
"What are you lads doing with this?" he asks.
"Just having a bit of fun, Styles," says Kirk. He thinks the American's name is Kirk.
"Yeah, well if you don't fucking stop it, we're going to let all the lads know about what you and Katie Miles were doing in my dorm last Wednesday."
Katie Miles is not real. Kirk will tell his friends she's some townie slut. Harry just smiles placidly as the heat rushes into Kirk's face. Kirk and his friends retreat quickly, and Harry is left alone with Louis in the library.
"Who's Katie Miles?" asks Louis quietly. He hands over three books and sticks the cap back in his pocket.
"Me," says Harry casually while thumbing through the Neruda. He thinks he hears Louis choke on his own spit.
***
Again at the library, Harry is watching Louis squat in front of a shelf of biographies. Harry isn't sure what part of him has suddenly opened up to the idea of Louis, but the boy has been in his thoughts constantly. Harry has been leering, which is unbecoming of any young playboy studying abroad. It's just that Louis has the nicest behind of anyone in the entire school--girl or boy.
The way he's licking his lips, and the way his shirt rides up so that Harry can see the waistband of his black boxer-briefs (and, of course, Harry can tell that Louis is the boxer-brief type of guy despite the nerdy exterior), it all makes Harry wonder if Louis isn't more aware of his body than Harry has been giving him credit for.
"What are you doing later?" asks Harry. Louis doesn't respond. He cannot possibly be this aloof, Harry thinks. "Oi, Louis."
"You're saying my name wrong," says Louis.
"What?"
"It's Lou-ee, not Lewis."
"Since when?" asks Harry.
Louis bows his head forward like he's already tired of this conversation. He tilts his head sideways to look at Harry. "I had it legally changed last year just to keep everyone on their toes."
"Rude," says Harry. "Come on. What are you doing tonight?"
"I have a date at half past eight," says Louis.
"A date? Like ... with a girl?"
"Yeah," says Louis. "Why?"
He can't act like he's devastated, although there's a bit of a twinge behind his heart that could just be indigestion. "Well, want to get some tea or something? I know a place."
"We can, yeah. We can talk about what a terrible reader you are," says Louis.
"What do you mean by that?"
Louis grins from ear to ear and looks around. There's a few people at the library, most of them buried so deep in their books they haven't even been disturbed by the conversation. Louis stands up and pulls up his trousers. "You're shouting in a library. You've been on that page for probably ... what, thirty minutes now? Do you need a tutor?"
Louis seems like he's joking, but Harry seizes the opportunity to insinuate himself into Louis's life. "Yeah, actually. My grades are shit."
"It's because you're distractable," says Louis.
"That's not even a word," says Harry.
"No, but it gets the point across, yeah?" says Louis. "I'll tutor you, but I have a fee."
"Are you worth it?"
"Every penny," says Louis.
"We'll discuss it at tea, then," says Harry.
"Where are we meeting?"
"The square at five?"
"Yeah, sure," says Louis.
The way Louis says it, though, Harry wonders if Louis is even going to show. He collects his things and goes home to primp and preen a bit. He's not sure why he's so set on impressing Louis, but there's a compulsion driving him forward in whatever sly endeavor this is. Harry gets to the square at ten to five, but Louis doesn't show up until half past. When he does show up, he appears timid.
Harry watches him as he looks around. It clicks that Louis thinks it's a set-up. That's why he was playing it cool in the library. Louis legitimately thinks that Harry would lure him here just to be mean. He doesn't know how he can possibly convince Louis that it's not a set-up. Finally Louis is within reach, and all Harry wants to do is hug him.
"Hi," he says with a smile.
"Hey," says Louis. "Are we going?"
"Yeah. You know that place on Friedlander?"
"I don't get out much," says Louis.
"Right. Well they have the best scones and some pretty ace pound cake."
"Lead the way," says Louis. It hurts Harry someplace deep that this boy trusts him so little that he's not even willing to turn his back on Harry. The compulsion inside him grows stronger. He's torn between holding Louis's hand and slinging an arm around his shoulder.
"So, who are you dating?" Harry asks after a few moments of silence between them.
"Nobody you'd know," says Louis.
"A townie, then?"
Louis just shrugs. "Just ... her name is Fizz, the girl I'm seeing tonight."
"Fizz. What kind of name is Fizz?" asks Harry.
"It's a family name," says Louis.
Those are the last words Harry can get out of him until they get to the coffee shop. Harry holds the door open, and Louis ducks in. Harry watches a smile ripen on that lovely little face, and he knows he's somehow done something good. Louis is wearing stripes beneath his peacoat. He peels his layers away, and Harry can't help but watch the show as Louis settles in to a small table near the back of the shop.
"You're leering," says Louis.
"Sorry. I just ... do you like it?" he asks.
"Like what?"
"This place," says Harry. He removes his knee-length trench coat and drapes it over the empty chair between them.
"It reminds me of home. Coffee shops don't change no matter what the setting," says Louis.
"Where are you from?"
"Doncaster," says Louis. He knows he doesn't have to specify. He and Harry are both British, and Harry will most likely get the reference.
"So, how did a strapping young boy from South Yorkshire decide that he wanted to attend our prestigious school?"
"He didn't," says Louis. "My step-dad sort of made the decision for me. He works at a factory, and has his whole life. So he wanted to give me an opportunity to bring my family up rather than drag them down."
"He sounds charming," says Harry.
"He's not all bad. He's better than most guys Mum dated. At least he kept his hands to himself and treated my sisters like they were princesses. I won't speak ill of him for that."
Harry just stands there contemplating Louis as the boy's face shifts between two bipolar emotions -- peace and worry.
"What would you like to drink?" Harry asks once the conversation has expired.
"Coffee, please, and maybe a piece of the pound cake you were talking about."
Somehow it goes unspoken that Harry is treating. Louis doesn't argue the fact, and so Harry isn't forced to bully him into accepting a favor. It's the first conversation they have with each other that goes without saying. Harry orders and returns with the spoils.
Louis smiles like a small kid and actually has to restrain his hand under his leg to stop himself from diving right into the pound cake. Harry laughs and takes the seat right beside Louis. Something is drawing him forward. Maybe it's Louis's nonchalant attitude toward him. Most of the girls (and even, he admits to himself, some of the guys) can't keep their hands off him.
"So, can I ask you a question?"
"Sure," says Louis. He's pouring chocolate sauce and cream into his coffee and dunks the pound cake into the drink before he even takes a sip.
"Why ... why does everyone seem to--"
"Beat up on me?"
"They don't hit you, do they?" asks Harry.
"Does it matter if the abuse is verbal or physical?" asks Louis. "It still fucking hurts either way."
"I only mean ... is there something ..."
"You're asking me, the victim of verbal abuse and derogatory put-downs, what I feel I do to provoke my abusers? Watch it, Harry. That's dangerous thinking," says Louis.
"No, no. I wasn't, I swear!" says Harry quickly. "That's not what I was trying to say!"
"What, then?"
"I'm trying to ask you if I can help."
"Harry, you do understand why I don't trust you, right?"
"Yes," says Harry, and it hurts him to admit it. "I've hung out with the people who hurt you. I may not have said anything to you myself, but I didn't try and stop them."
"At least you understand that," says Louis before he takes a long sip of his coffee.
"I'm going to be different."
"Okay, Harry," says Louis.
But he smiles like he wants to believe it.
***
It's raining the first time they kiss. School is on break, and a few quiet souls are left behind to ponder what the word family really means to kids in boarding school.
They have been friends for a whole month now. Louis always disappears at eight on weeknights and will only accept invitations from Harry if they are before eight or after ten. Harry doesn't know who Fizz is. She doesn't go to the school. Harry has even gone so far as to creep outside Louis's bedroom door to see if he can catch a glimpse of Fizz. No such luck.
So Harry is driven slowly mad with wondering what secret Louis is keeping from him.
They're at the library in uniform. Harry had an interview with the Dean about a project he failed to turn in on time, and Louis has to wear his uniform when he's working. He spends most afternoons working, and Harry has grown accustomed to the black shoes, black slacks, white shirt, red tie, and black blazer. He's grown accustomed to Louis saying so little between two p.m. and five p.m. Once he's done with alphabetizing and numericizing (he's not sure whether that's a real word) and shelving his tiny carts of books, he comes over and sits down by Harry.
Harry has taken to bringing treats. Like a cat, Louis comes closer upon seeing flattened pieces of pound cake. His foot touches Harry's under the table, but he doesn't move it. Harry watches him for any sign that he's noticed. Louis smiles around a mouthful of cake and bristles like a little kitten. It's too cute. That's the only word for it. A month ago Louis didn't trust Harry enough to walk in front of him. Now, he trusts him to bring pound cake and even touches his foot under the table.
"So you have a date with Fizz tonight?" asks Harry.
"As always," says Louis.
"I don't suppose you'll ever not have a date with her?" asks Harry.
"They're not actually proper dates, Harry," says Louis. "I have told you that before, haven't I?"
Harry shakes his head slowly. Louis barely knows him, but he can see a mischievous little idea twinkling in Harry's eye.
"Come to my room tonight. I'll let you meet Fizz," says Louis.
"She isn't, like, your answer to Katie Miles, is she?"
"No. She's a real, human person."
"But not a girlfriend?"
"No, not a girlfriend," says Louis. He's laughing like this is the funniest conversation he's ever had. Harry likes the way his whole mouth opens up to the laughter. Harry leans forward and then thinks better of it. Sudden movements scare Louis. Louis stops laughing and contemplates him. "Not here," he says.
"What do you mean, 'Not here?'"
Louis offers Harry his hand. This is a test. That's what Harry keeps thinking. He takes Louis's hand. That's when the chemistry between them shifts. Feelings he's felt for a month suddenly feel reciprocated. Louis leans down and kisses his wrist.
"I mean, someone might see," says Louis. "Come with me?"
Harry nods slowly. Louis stands and escorts Harry to a small office hidden away near the back of the library. Harry has never before seen the office, but Louis flips on the light. The room is filled with a small collection of books that have been well cared for. There's an overstuffed armchair next to a small electric heater.
"What ... what is this?" asks Harry.
"It's my office. The librarian let me have it. It used to be a broom closet or something. She found some extra furniture in storage and had the lacrosse boys bring it up."
"So, what? These are your books?"
"Kind of. I put them in here, and no one else ever asked after them," says Louis. He's squatting in front of the heater, fiddling with the temperature gauge on the back to try and warm up what is a very cold room. "Since it used to be a broom closet, it doesn't have a vent."
Harry thinks he's shivering more because he knows what's about to happen. He wants the moment to last, to linger. The anticipation leading up to first kisses is always better than the kiss itself. Louis puts the heater up on the little desk so its facing the chair. Louis seems as tightly wound as Harry is. He approaches, and the tension between them is like taut piano wire. Harry thinks if he reaches out to touch the air it will thrum.
Harry moves closer, step by tentative step. Louis pushes a hand up Harry's chest and lets his hand settle on Harry's shoulder. There's no way in hell this is Louis's first time kissing a boy. He seems like an entirely new creature--confident, even. Maybe that's Louis's problem in this place. He's so afraid of everyone knowing that he likes boys that he never opens up to anyone.
Louis hooks a finger in Harry's trouser pockets and drags him back until they both fall into the chair. He's not sure which one is going to crack first. Louis seems determined not to make the first move. His mouth just sort of hovers in Harry's general vicinity. Then slowly, painfully, Louis closes the distance between them.
It's not like fireworks when they kiss. It's not like electric currents or palpitations. It's just kissing. Very, very hot kissing. Louis puts his hands on Harry's hip and pulls him closer while Louis adjusts. It's more comfortable this way. Louis nibbles on Harry's lower lip, which makes his whole mouth open wide. Harry has half a thought that it's not fair to start out kissing like that. But if Louis is going to play dirty, Harry figures he knows a few things. He's been the Katie Miles to quite a few boys now, and each one teaches him something new.
But what is Louis doing?
Harry loses his train of thought as Louis runs his tongue over the roof of Harry's mouth. He can't believe he actually whimpers, which makes Louis smile. He pulls back long enough to gloat, to say, "I'm two years older than you. I know a few things."
Louis reclines and pulls Harry closer. Harry takes his blazer off and tosses it onto the floor. He refuses to let shy little Louis get the upper hand. He grabs Louis's hands and pins them behind his head on the back of the chair.
"I don't need my hands to make you whimper," says Louis. And to prove a point, he lifts his leg up and rocks it back and forth between Harry's legs. It doesn't make Harry whimper; the motion makes him keel forward and moan into Louis's shoulder.
"Not ... fair," says Harry.
"We can stop anytime," says Louis.
"No," says Harry. "I want to kiss you."
"Where do you want to kiss me?" asks Louis.
"If you stop doing that with your leg, I might be able ... to figure that out," says Harry.
"I could keep going," says Louis.
"I don't feel like doing laundry."
Louis laughs and tips his head back. Harry seizes the opportunity to latch onto something with his mouth so he isn't embarrassing himself with words. He opens his mouth over the hollow of Louis's throat. Louis seems to purr as Harry sucks a hickey into his neck. Then they're kissing on the mouth again, more feverish than before. Louis breaks his hands free from Harry and pushes his hands up Harry's shirt.
"Okay, we have got to stop," says Harry.
Louis breaks away smiling. "Whatever you say, Hazza."
"I'm going to get you back for this," says Harry.
"I look forward to it," says Louis. He kisses Harry softly on the lips. "Go get yourself ready. Fizz starts promptly at eight."
"What?"
"Go."
Harry kisses him again and stands up. He starts tucking in his shirt and collects his blazer off the floor. "Walk me to my room?"
"I have to close up the library. I look forward to seeing you again in a few hours," says Louis. He stands up and wraps his arms around Harry's shoulders. The hug is sweet, which is more than Harry can say about the feelings coiled in his groin.
The anticipation of the first kiss is always better than the kiss itself. Or so he used to think before he had a first kiss with Louis.
***
Louis is toweling his hair dry when Harry comes in. Louis's room is one of the larger suites that all the senior boys are given upon passing their fifth-year finals. Each room is furnished with a desk, a four-poster bed, and a private bathroom. Harry envies Louis this. He's been showering with the same boys for two years now, and the landscape is getting a bit boring, to tell the truth.
The room looks like a continuation of the small library downstairs. Posters from political riots in the Sixties and bands Harry's never heard of are taped to the walls. Stacks of books and stacks of CD act as tables for little trinkets like Buddha statues and an array of little kids toys from Happy Meals. He can't be sure, but Louis seems conflicted deep down to his core.
"How did I not know about you until this semester?"
"I keep to myself," says Louis.
"Oh, yeah? I seem to recall you invading my personal space quite thoroughly downstairs in the library," says Harry. His fingers are dancing over a row of picture frames. All of them feature Louis with a different girl--all younger, all looking similar to him but with one or two quirks unique to them.
"You're not the only one whose seduced boys in his room," says Louis with a wiggle of his eyebrows.
"Right. A month ago you couldn't even stand up for yourself in the library. How did you get up the nerve to stick your tongue down another boy's throat?"
"Setting aside the fact that you can sometimes be a real asshole," says Louis. "I had friends too. The last of them graduated in the spring."
"So, what, you're passing the knowledge along? In two years, I'll be the one with a huge bedroom where I can lure boys to meet this mystical Fizz?"
"Fizz is on in 10. Do you want to kiss or not?"
Harry doesn't even have time to respond. Just as Louis gets to him, though, the sound of a ringing phone interrupts them.
"That'll be Fizz, cockblocking us," says Louis. He moves to his computer and turns on the screen and the webcam. Before Harry can form an intelligent thought, a little voice is coming through the speakers.
"Louis, are you there? It's all black right now," says the voice.
"Yes, muppet. Give me a minute," says Louis in reply. He pulls the post-it note off the webcam and pulls back. "I brought a friend to see you."
"A friend?" asks Fizz.
"Yes, his name is Harry. He's from Holmes Chapel."
"Hello, Harry," says Fizz. She's got a round face and plaits. Harry can see the resemblance but thinks that this must be Louis's half-sister. "Are you one of Louis's students?"
"You could say that, I guess," says Harry. Louis nudges him in the arm and sits down at the little chair at the desk.
"How is everything, muppet? Did you get the presents I sent you?"
"Yes, and they were lovely. Lottie even liked hers, and you know how she is."
"What about Daisy and Phoebe? Are they okay?"
"Yes, Louis, you worry too much! Mark took them out to the cinema, and later we're all going for pizza at Luciano's."
"I just miss you," says Louis. "I worry about my girls."
"We miss you too. When will you be home?"
"I don't know, muppet. I finish my term in a few months."
"But, it's been a year since we saw you."
"I know. Only a little bit longer, okay?"
Harry feels out of place when Fizz starts crying. It's even more off-putting when Louis wipes a few tears away himself.
"I know it's hard, muppet. I'll be home soon."
"Mom wants to talk to you," says Fizz looking off camera for a minute. "And Lottie."
Harry uses this as an excuse to move off camera. He goes and sits on the bed and plays with the fringe on one of Louis's pillows.
"Hey, Lou," says his mum. Harry feels increasingly uncomfortable. He's not sure why Louis invited him to see this. It's awkward enough that there was a child crying on the other end of the camera, but now there's a mom forcing a smile. A girl older than the last one, but with the same round face, is glaring into the camera.
"Hi, mum. Hey, Lottie."
"We won't keep you long, sweetheart. We just want you to know we're thinking of you. Are you doing well in classes?"
"Yeah, mum. Everything's going really well. The Dean is going to write me a letter of recommendation for Uni and everything."
"All right. You know Fizz just lives for seeing you. We'll try to get you home for spring holidays, okay?"
"Don't worry about it, mum. I love you. Let me say bye to Fizz. Bye, Lottie," says Louis.
"Bye, sweetheart."
"Bye, Lou," says Lottie.
Fizz pops back into view and leans in really close to the camera to give it a kiss. Louis smirks despite himself. "Is it true you'll be home for spring holiday?"
"I'll try my best, okay? I'll do my very best."
"Love you, Lou."
"Love you back, kiddo," says Fizz.
Then the screen goes black and Louis replaces the post-it over the little camera lens. The air in the room is dense as Louis crawls across his bed to Harry. Harry wipes a tear off his face and shakes his head.
"You haven't been home in a year? What do you do on summer break?"
"Not now, Harry. I don't want to talk about it now."
"We're not making out, either. It's not fair to either of us. I don't fit in that family-shaped hole you want to fill right now. Fondling me in your bedroom won't make you feel better."
Instead Harry kicks off his shoes and gets under the covers. The RAs all went home for the holiday too, and so it's just a few stragglers. Somehow, and it's unkind to think it, Harry is sure that no one is going to come barging in on them. Louis looks pitiful but crawls under the covers too. Harry pulls him close, and Louis lays his head on Harry's chest. He pretends not to feel Louis's tears soaking through his shirt. He figures the best thing to be is available, and if all Louis needs is a good cry then who is he to deny him that?
Harry strokes his hair and rubs tiny circles on Louis's back. He can tell almost down to the second when Louis falls asleep. Suddenly the tension in the room deflates until there's just peace and the dim light from the desktop lamp. Harry stays awake thinking about how, twelve hours ago, there was nothing between them but a friendship built on pound cake. Now, at the very least, Louis wants emotionally misguided makeout sessions in his bedroom after crying on Skype with his family.
And also, the way Louis clutches Harry's shirt in his sleep speaks volumes and volumes, but Harry falls asleep before he can ponder it anymore.
***
For weeks they've managed to hide out from the rest of the world. Harry's friends have stopped asking after him, and they just assume that he'll return once he's grown out of this phase, as they call it. He doesn't think this phase will ever end.
He and Louis are laying in the grass in a closed down wing of the school's community garden. They've scarcely heard anyone all afternoon, and they're sure they won't be bothered here.
Louis's weight on top of him is no less comfortable than a really tight hug, and he likes the way Louis is tracing shapes on his cheek. He starts with a square and then a circle, and it's only when he starts tracing Kanji that Harry gets curious.
"You write Chinese?" he asks.
"No, it's Kanji. I mean, I took it a while back when this Japanese student tried to get me interested in it," says Louis. "He was very big on culture."
"I bet he was," says Harry. There's a sly smile playing at his lips, and Louis has no choice but to lean down and kiss him.
So far it's all they've done except for that first day in the library. Both of them are putting off the inevitable. Once sex is involved the politics become different. Louis isn't sure how he'll react to dating the school's answer to Paul McCartney. He isn't sure if it involves coming out, so to speak, or if Harry will still want them to remain secret. He can't decide which will be more stressful for him, either. When they do their quiet little things in private, there's no pressure to be any one way. Louis is preemptively hurt though because what if Harry just wants them to remain secret. What if he's embarrassed or ashamed? That thought is the one that keeps him up at night.
"Where are you?" asks Harry. He pulls back and looks at Louis. Those huge eyes, pupils the size of a sixpence, seem to open wider and gaze right through all Louis's contrived answers.
"Right here," says Louis. He leans in for another kiss, but Harry puts a hand on his chest.
"No, you had something in your head right then. Your brows got all knitted up."
"I just like us. I really like us together, and I don't want--"
"Already trying to get rid of me? That's what you do, huh? You leave people while things are still good so that you don't get hurt. Maybe that's why you don't have any friends," says Harry.
"Fair enough," says Louis.
"Well, you're not pushing me out of your life that easy because I see right through you," says Harry. He presses his index finger gently between Louis's eyebrows.
"Fair enough."
"So, this Japanese boy. What was his name?"
"Bishamon."
"And how did you push Bishamon away?"
Louis smiles. "I didn't. He ran away one night. The idea of him going back to Japan and pretending to be someone he wasn't was too much for him. I woke up one morning with a note on my door that said he'd gone. He writes occasionally. He somehow found his way to Tuscany where he works on a farm."
"What life do you lead?" asks Harry with a perplexed smile. "You turn Japanese boys gay and they run off--"
"Oh, no," says Louis. "I did not turn him. I took one look at him and knew, so whatever it was we did at the Founder's Day Ball is not completely my fault."
"Is he the one who taught you all you know about seducing bright young things?"
"Give me a little credit, Hazza. I'm charming, aren't I?"
"Once you get past the sad, puppy dog exterior, yes," says Harry. "The inner sex kitten is worth it. I still think about that day in the library, sometimes while I'm in the shower alone with my thoughts."
"That was nothing. I was being a tease."
"Don't I know it?" says Harry.
Louis kisses harry on his jaw. Harry tips his head back and watches a cloud float by that looks like an Italian sports car, then a rabbit, then a duck. Louis slips Harry's tie off his head and wraps it around his wrist three times. Harry thinks about stealing one of Louis's ties and wearing it permanently. Louis unbuttons his top two buttons and peels back his shirt.
"What are you doing?" asks Harry. He looks like a four-year-old pondering the mystical nature of a magic trick. He peeks at Louis as Louis begins drawing the same Kanji letters with his tongue right around Harry's nipple.
Louis smiles and begins unbuttoning Harry's trousers. "Seeing how much I remember of the Kanji alphabet."
Harry groans and lifts his hips up. He might just have a new-found respect for Japanese culture before the day is out.
***
Louis is working at their little cafe on Friedlander now. His librarian position expired because he'd achieved his credits and was set to graduate in two months. So Louis now had to get a job busing tables. Harry didn't mind. Louis was as dapper in an apron as he was in a school uniform, and now that he was able to get free pound cake, Louis was developing a pooch.
Harry was quite fond of the pooched stomach. Louis seemed comfortable with it too, oddly enough. Whenever Harry mentions it, Louis says casually, "Oh, I've got my whole life to be a strapping young thing."
Harry lays some euros on the table around closing time. Louis eyes him sternly because this has been a fight with them since Louis started working here. Harry is being too generous. He leaves tips too extravagant for Louis to accept, and Louis always feels a bit like he's rejecting Harry.
"Harry, stop," says Louis.
"I know you want to go home for spring holiday. I'm more than willing to help you pay your way."
"I'm not a rentboy," says Louis.
"I'm not calling you one. Do it for your family, Louis. They fucking miss you. I'll come with you. You can show me Doncaster. We can even drive to Holmes Chapel for a weekend and you can see where I live."
"Put the money away, Harry. Come sit with me in back while I brew some tea."
"Is that a euphemism?" asks Harry.
"No," says Louis. "It's an invitation to tea."
Two weeks later, Harry is in his dorm. Louis hardly ever comes down here because he says he's "infringing" on Harry's "normal" life. It's one of the other fights they have, and just like the euros argument, Louis always seems to win. Today he looks flustered.
It's nine-thirty. Harry's roommate looks between the two of them and then casually dismisses himself.
"What is it?"
"I'll ... I have to go home," says Louis. "I need to borrow a bit of money. I'll pay you back. I've just been to the dean's office and talked to her about an extension on my homework."
Harry shoots up off the bad and puts his hand on Louis's shoulders. "What's wrong? Is Fizz okay?"
"Everyone's good. Just, I need to get home. I guess Mark is filing for divorce."
"I'm so sorry."
"I don't care about him, but I have to get home. Fizz has gone off and no one knows where."
"Stop, Louis. Stop. Of course. We'll get on the next plane, and we'll find Fizz. It's okay."
"We?"
"Well, I can't let you get on a plane alone."
"Train," says Louis.
"Plane," says Harry. "It's faster."
Louis can't say no to him right now. He nods his head. "Yeah, all right. You better go talk to the dean, although I'm not sure how you'll explain this to her."
Harry nods his head, and a flicker of a smile dances across his face. But these are serious times, so he won't tell Louis that the dean will most likely not even notice he's gone. They part ways briefly, and Harry throws as many clothes in his carry-on luggage as he can manage.
He meets Louis on the foyer and they get a cab to the airport together. Harry sits quietly while Louis talks to someone--presumably Fizz--on the other side of the phone. He's speaking quietly and at some point he reaches over to clutch Harry's hand. When he hangs up, he lays his head down on Harry's shoulder.
"Fizz got home," he says.
"Good. We still going?"
"Yeah. Mum needs help. Lottie's being terrible. Thankfully Daisy and Phoebe don't even know what's going on."
"Aren't they Mark's kids?"
"I'm the only one who's not," says Louis. "But he never made me feel bad about it or anything. I just think it's too much for--no, you know what. I'm not going to defend him. I've defended him my whole life. He has the audacity to send me away to boarding school for three years because he doesn't want me to bring my family down. What's he doing, then? He's walking out when things get too hard? Fuck that."
"Don't waste your time being bitter, all right? Put on a brave face for your sisters. It'll be hard enough that they're feeling like shit."
"I will. My mum is taking it kind of raw. Fizz says she left because Mum wouldn't come out of the bathroom."
"It will get better," says Harry.
"Harry, I won't miss him," says Louis.
Harry's not so sure, but he keeps his mouth shut. He even manages to get Louis to smile at the coffee shop in the airport as they trade dollops of whipped cream with each other. Louis licks the whipped cream off Harry's finger and then bites him softly. The sound that comes out of Harry's mouth makes him happy that no one seems to care about what they're doing. God bless progressive countries.
"You're trouble," says Harry.
Louis shakes his head and gives Harry the old bedroom eyes. "Trouble's my middle name."
( Part Deux)