round 7 - team au - My Friend
Title: My Friend
Pairing: Harry/Louis
Rating: PG
Word Count: 5370
Warning(s): None
Summary: Louis almost can’t believe it when he gets the text: I have a friend who thinks ur cute. But when Harry won’t tell him who his mysterious ‘friend’ is, Louis decides he’ll just have to figure it out for himself.
At the light buzzing in his pocket, Louis glanced up at the teacher and surreptitiously slid his phone out under his desk. A text from Harry lit up his screen, and Louis frowned as he read the words:
I have a friend who thinks ur cute
He looked up, his eyes seeking out his friend across the room. Harry’s head was bent over his book, looking for all the world like a good, studious boy who would never dream of texting during class.
Louis bit his lip and glanced back down at the words on his screen. After a second’s thought he typed out:
No way. Who?
Harry had a lot of friends. Far more than Louis. In fact, Louis still wasn’t sure why Harry hung around with him at all. Manic, bitchy, dramatic Louis Tomlinson, who could never seem to sit still or pay attention, and who always managed to say the wrong thing. He had been on the outside of things his whole life. Until Harry.
His phone vibrated in his hand: Promised I wouldn’t tell.
Louis looked back up at his friend. If it were anyone else, he’d think they were taking the piss. But Harry wouldn’t do that to him, Louis was pretty sure. No matter how much his popular friends gave him a hard time for hanging around Louis, Harry still sat with him at lunch, and texted him during class, and drove him home when he missed this bus (which was nearly every day).
He couldn’t quite imagine, though, that there were many other people in the school who would put up with him, let alone tell Harry Styles that he was cute.
Still, Louis shifted a little in his seat as he scrolled back to Harry’s first text, rereading the words. It felt kind of good to think someone might.
~
At lunch Harry wouldn’t budge on keeping his secret, despite Louis’ persistence in pestering him.
“Come on, Haz,” he whined. “Why would you even say anything if you weren’t going to tell me who it is?”
Harry gave him one of his half-smiles, his lips curling up crookedly, one dimple denting his cheek. “I thought you might want to know.”
Louis quieted at that. He did want to know. His whole morning had improved, thinking someone out there might be thinking he was cute. That he wasn’t just some annoying kid, but a boy cute enough to talk to Harry Styles about.
“Want to know what?” Niall asked, half a scotch egg sticking out of his mouth, practically drooling sausage on the table.
“Nothing. Also, you’re disgusting,” Louis said, out of habit.
Niall merely shrugged, uncaring, and crammed the rest of the egg into his mouth.
It had taken Louis a long time to get used to Niall. At first, he was just Harry’s sporty friend, a guy on the football team who ate too much and drank too much and just seemed like another lughead who might give Louis a hard time, poking fun at his clothes, the way he walked, the way he talked. The kind of guy who had spotted that Louis was different before he even knew it himself, and gave him hell for it.
So Louis ignored Niall, and assumed eventually he’d stopped coming around (and maybe Harry would too, realizing that Louis wasn’t his sort). But instead, Niall continued to sit with them at lunch, and invite himself along to things after school, and sometime around the tenth time he ended up in Louis’s lounge, kicking both Harry and Louis’ asses at FIFA, Louis accepted that they were friends.
His eyes widened. Surely it couldn’t be Niall who thought he was cute?
He eyed the Irish lad a bit more closely, trying to look past the food that was smeared on his chin, or the way he kept trying to talk to Harry despite his mouthful. He wasn’t bad-looking, given the givens, Louis thought. His eyes were quite a lovely shade of blue, now that Louis looked closer, and his skin was good-better than Harry’s, anyway, although Louis always pretended not to notice Harry’s breakouts, because he knew how sensitive the other boy was about them. Niall’s body was okay, although his skin was awfully pale. And then there was the eating. And the constant footie talk. And the eating.
He looked back down at his plate, picking absently at his own lunch. Niall seemed like an unlikely candidate, but then again, he was one of Harry’s few friends who could stand Louis. And maybe, he thought, it wouldn’t be so bad if it was Niall.
Louis looked up just as the Irish boy grinned, a mouthful of braces and flecks of sausage. Then again, maybe not.
~
My friend said to tell u that shirt looks good on u
Louis glanced down at his shirt and then back at his phone, mystified. He was just wearing a simple white t-shirt, and besides, since when did anyone notice anything he wore? Unless they were shoving him into lockers and telling him it was too gay. (He liked scarves, thank you very much. It had nothing to do with his sexuality).
Harry was watching him this time, smirking at Louis’ confusion as he blatantly tried to figure out what there was to like about this particularly shirt. Louis frowned at him and Harry ducked his head over his phone again, ignoring the droning of their history teacher.
It shows off your collarbones. Makes you look fit, popped up on his phone. Louis’ eyes widened.
My friend says.
Right, Louis typed, his eyes scanning the room. Was it someone in this class? Which friend, again?
Not telling! :) x Harry shot him a wide, cheeky grin.
Louis rolled his eyes. Of course he wouldn’t give it up that easily. He let his eyes drift away from Harry-who looked pretty good in the shirt he was wearing, too, if Louis was being perfectly honest-to consider the other occupants of the room. It was only second period, so not that many people could have seen Louis and his apparently collarbone-flattering t-shirt.
Liam was in this class, Louis noted, feeling a bit uncomfortable. Liam was probably more Louis’ friend than Harry’s, although they all hung out. Liam was quiet and reserved and spent all his time on homework, trying to keep up with his classmates, and so he didn’t really run with the same crowds as Harry. He and Louis had become friends rather by default, being the last two picked in every phys ed class and for every class project. Eventually they just started partnering with each other, rather than always feeling left out. Given a few years Louis realized that Liam wasn’t quite the stick-in-the-mud he seemed to be, and Liam seemed to realize that merely talking to Louis wouldn’t immediately get him suspended (although they had come close a few times-which Liam never let him forget).
And because Liam and Louis were friends, Liam and Harry became friends. But were they close enough for Liam to tell Harry something so personal?
More importantly, was there any way Liam was sitting there thinking about Louis’ collarbones?
Louis really, really hoped not. Liam was a good-looking lad: he was tall and muscular and had big brown puppy dog eyes. But he also scolded Louis constantly, and told him to wear a jacket when he went out, and just generally mothered the hell out of him.
Not exactly what Louis pictured in a boyfriend, when he allowed himself to picture such a thing at all.
No, he thought morosely. Liam wouldn’t do. He glanced back down at Harry’s text and hoped against hope that it was someone who might be a bit more mischievous than the sensible Payner. And someone who might eventually want Louis to know who they were.
~
The music was pounding, a deafening roar in Louis’ ears as he downed another shot. He had lost track of Niall at some point, subsumed into the crowd that was currently wrecking the Devine’s house. Josh was Niall’s friend from the football team, and normally this kind of party was the last place Louis would want to spend his Saturday night, but. Harry was going to be there.
Harry, who Louis couldn’t find anywhere in the melee.
He shook his head and grabbed another drink, not even bothering to look what it was before knocking half of it back. He was here to have fun, so fun he would have, Harry or no Harry, Louis decided. Hell, someone in the world thought he was cute and had nice collarbones. If that didn’t warrant a drunken celebration, he didn’t know what did.
Louis followed the sound of shouting into the living room to find Josh stood on his own coffee table, a beer in each hand, dancing like a lunatic and trying to get the rest of the room to join in. Well, Louis thought with a shrug, taking another gulp of the burning liquid in his cup. You only live once.
The song was a good one, his head was swimming, and there was no one around to tell him it wasn’t a good idea, so he launched himself up on the table next to Josh, bellowing a “hello!” over the sounds of Katy Perry. Josh had been known to shove him into a locker or two before Harry and Niall intervened, but tonight he just screamed his approval, doing a sloppy little jig next to where Louis was bumping and grinding like the teenage dream Katy Perry told him he was.
The music drowned out any jeers that were floating his way from the gathered crowd and Louis threw his head back, laughing to himself as he let loose and just danced, however he wanted to. Fuck everyone else and what they thought of him.
A few songs later Louis raised his cup to his lips and came up dry. He blinked into its depths for a moment, wondering why nothing was coming out, until realization dawned. “I’m going to get another drink!” he bellowed at Josh.
“I love you man!” the boy screamed back, face red and hair slicked with sweat. Louis laughed and launched himself into the crowd, shoving his way through with an utter disregard for everyone’s personal space and physical comfort. A few elbows to the gut later and he reached the kitchen, panting in the doorway while he tried to remember what he had come there for.
“Right!” he announced to no one. “A drink!”
A few girls gave him a look that told him he’d be hearing about this on Monday, but that was the best thing about being drunk, as far as Louis was concerned. The eternal worry about what his idiot classmates would say about him faded for the moment, and he could be as ridiculous and camp as he wanted. Live while you’re young, he thought, and tossed back another shot.
A persistent buzz at his hip had Louis blinking in confusion before he remembered the existence of phones and dug his out with clumsy fingers. Harry’s name flashed on his screen and he grinned.
My friend likes the way u dance
Louis’ eyes widened. The words swam in front of his eyes a bit, but after a moment it occurred to him that the text meant his ‘admirer’ (if the person could be called that. And he hoped they could) was at this party.
Of course, most of the school was at this party. Still, though, his options had narrowed down to the people who could fit into Josh’s living room, and thus might have witnessed him shaking his ass to LMFAO.
Louis hurried to the doorway and peeked back into the room, trying to make out any familiar faces. But the only one who stood out was Josh himself, still standing proudly on the coffee table, and currently spilling beer onto the head of a girl in Louis’ chemistry class.
He hated that bitch, anyway.
“Louis!” Josh called, spotting him. “Come back and dance with me!”
Louis looked down at his phone and then back up at Josh.
He likes the way I dance, he thought with a gulp. Josh kept waving, his beer drenching the poor girl below him and sweat dripping down his back.
“No thanks!” Louis called back, hurriedly fleeing the room.
~
Come Monday morning, Louis was still in knots over who Harry’s texts might have been about. He hadn’t seen the other boy all weekend, which wasn’t unusual, but which still left him feeling out of sorts and bit … empty if he was honest with himself.
Which Louis almost never was, because he hated to admit that Harry Styles might be that big a part of his life. Sure, he liked hanging out with the other lad, and yes, Harry was smart and funny and talented and for some reason laughed at all of Louis’ jokes. But still … that didn’t mean he couldn’t go two days without seeing him.
Nevertheless, Louis felt his face light up when he spotted Harry leaning against his locker, clearly waiting for someone.
“Who’re you stalking this week, Styles?” Louis asked, shoving the other boy out of the way to get at his locker. “Someone with the last name T?” Louis guessed, given the locker section Harry had been occupying. He wrinkled his nose. “Is it that girl? The one with the hair?”
Harry barked out a laugh, leaning his lanky body right up in Louis’ personal space as Louis fished for books out of the cavern of his locker. “A compelling description. But no, I don’t think ‘the one with the hair’ has made any kind of impression. Besides,” his eyes crinkled up with a grin. “Can’t I just be stalking you?”
Louis ducked his head further into his locker to hide the blush that rushed, unbidden, to his cheeks, and shook his head. “It’s not your traditional M.O.”
“Well, maybe I’m branching out,” Harry said, his voice suddenly serious, and Louis looked up at him in surprise.
But Harry just gave him another dimpled grin and slung a long arm around his shoulders. “Come on, we have classes to ignore.”
Louis let himself be dragged down the hall, trying not to feel vindicated by the jealous looks half the female population was giving him at the sight of Harry at his side.
History was just as boring as always, and Louis was relieved when he felt his phone vibrate halfway through class. He looked away from the complex set of doodles he was inscribing on his desk to slide the phone out of his pocket.
The text was from Harry, because who else would it be from?, and Louis thumbed it open with a grin.
My friend wants to ask u out but hes shy
Louis chewed his lip, reading over the words again. At least Harry had finally confirmed that his ‘friend’ was a guy-although Louis knew that Harry knew that Louis was gay, even though by unspoken agreement they never talked about it. Still … it was something to go on.
And shy, huh? He glanced up at the back of Harry’s curly head. Harry’s friends were usually as outgoing as Harry was, so that piece of information narrowed it down even more. Louis thought back to Josh, dancing wildly on his living room table, and mentally ruled him out. Niall was the same-loud and carefree and about as far from shy as a boy could get.
He could still mean Liam, Louis thought, tapping his pencil idly on his desk. Or … his eyes tracked across the room.
There was Zayn.
Zayn was almost as much of a loner as Louis was, except his outsider status was by choice rather than default. He was dark and mysterious and wore leather jackets and didn’t talk to anyone-except Harry, because Harry insisted on being friends with absolutely everyone. Zayn smoked behind the school and drew complicated pictures in his notebook that he never let anyone see, and basically didn’t seem to give a fuck about high school.
Louis would normally classify Zayn as ‘enigmatic’, but he guessed ‘shy’ would work, too.
And, now that he took a closer look, he supposed Zayn was rather ridiculously good-looking. If you were in to the male model type, that is.
Louis looked at the way the boy’s long dark lashes laid shadows across his high cheekbones as he bent over his notebook, and squirmed a little in his seat.
That … wouldn’t be so bad, he admitted to himself, admiring the way the black leather of Zayn’s jacket emphasized the width of his shoulders and the narrowness of his waist.
He glanced back over at Harry who was watching him with a curious smile, all floppy curls and deep dimples, and he couldn’t stop the answering grin that spread over his face. Harry arched his eyebrows, ever the cheeky chap, and Louis had to fight the urge to giggle out loud, embarrassed and pleased all at once about the secret they were sharing in the texts.
Stop you, he quickly texted back, watching the way it made Harry smile, ducking his head to hide it in the mass of his curls.
u like it, came back instantly and even as Louis shook his head he had to admit, he did like it.
He didn’t glance back to Zayn once during the rest of class.
~
Still, at lunch Louis cornered Harry by the utensils, pressing close with his tray full of meat product and potato-like substance.
“What’s up?” Harry laughed.
“Your friend,” Louis said, lowering his voice.
Harry looked away, reaching to fiddle with the spoons, clanking them together but not picking one up. “Yeah?”
“Is it Zayn?”
“What?” Harry looked up, green eyes wide.
Louis shot him a meaningful look, lowering his voice even more. This was the last conversation he’d want anyone to overhear. “You said the guy was shy. So I was thinking, maybe Zayn?”
“Oh,” Harry said, shaking his fringe into his face. “Did you-did you want it to be Zayn?” he asked carefully.
Louis shrugged, not quite meeting his friend’s eyes. “I don’t know,” he said evasively. None of Harry’s friends had really caught his interest. He wanted someone who made him smile, who’s very presence made him light up inside. But, he reminded himself, he’d be lucky if any of the guys in the school wanted him-manic, gay, loner that he was. “He’s really fit,” he finished lamely.
“Yeah,” Harry nodded behind his curtain of hair. “I guess he is. Pretty?”
Louis snorted. “Pretty?”
“What?” Harry defended, finally shaking his curls out of his face to meet Louis’ eyes. “He’s got those cheekbones and those lips.”
“Really, Styles? Noticing his lips?” Louis smirked, happy to be back in familiar territory.
“Oh, shut up, you,” Harry chided, knocking their shoulders together. “You’re the one who wants him to be your secret admirer.”
They moved towards their usual table, where Niall was already sat, shovelling food into his mouth.
Louis frowned at Harry, unsure what that meant. Was it a yes or a no? But Harry was already sliding into the seat next to Niall, jostling the blond with his elbow to make him splutter.
“Louis, he’s abusing me!” Niall complained as Louis dropped into the seat across from him.
“Yes,” Louis agreed. Harry was stealing all of Niall’s chips. In Niall’s world, that certainly counted as abuse.
“Well aren’t you going to do anything about it?” Niall asked piteously.
Louis smirked. “Since when have I ever taken your side over Harry’s?” He asked.
“Yeah, yeah,” Niall muttered. “We all know you love him best.”
Louis would have argued, but Harry was leaning across the table to nudge a chip at his lips, sharing his spoils, so Louis was a bit distracted.
~
That weekend Louis found himself at yet another party, surrounded by classmates he didn’t particularly like, while he pathetically searched for Harry.
“I’ll meet you there, he said,” he muttered mutinously as he pushed his way through the crowd. “Just come find me, he said.”
The room was absolutely packed, and there was no way Louis was going to find Harry in the crowd. Harry would have better luck finding him, he decided, since the other lad had height to his advantage.
So Louis turned away from the sweaty mass and headed for the kitchen instead, following the siren call of warm beer in plastic cups. When he reached the doorway, though, he stopped short.
Zayn stood alone in the kitchen, slouching back against the countertop like he was born to brood, his leather jacket and quiffed hair perfectly completing the picture. Harry had been evasive about ‘his friend’ since Louis asked about Zayn, refusing to answer questions and sending no more cryptic texts.
The fact that Harry had backed off after his guess made Louis all the more sure he was right. If Zayn was as shy as Harry said, maybe he had asked Harry to stop sending hints until he was ready to talk to Louis himself.
And now here they were, alone together.
Louis glanced down at himself, pulling his shirt straight and wishing he hadn’t worn such bright trousers. Zayn never seemed to wear anything but black and white, and looked effortlessly cool doing so. Louis favored patterns and colors, and, for one memorable year, braces with every shirt he wore. Still, the idea that he had a secret admirer had given him a confidence boost, and so he strode into the kitchen, flashing Zayn a bright smile as he reached the keg. “Hey, mate.”
Zayn looked up slowly, blinking lazily at him through his thick, dark lashes. Louis took a moment to admire the way they framed his brown eyes, prettier than any girl’s he’d ever seen. “Hey, Louis.”
And that was a good sign, Louis thought, biting his lip. Zayn definitely knew his name. That didn’t immediately mean he was Louis’ secret admirer, but it didn’t rule it out either. “Good party?”
Zayn shrugged, an effortless roll of his shoulders. “You know. They’re all the same.”
Louis had said as much a million times before, complaining that all the parties were stupid and all the people were lame. But Harry always dragged him alone and somehow he always ended up having a good time in the end, dancing and laughing with Harry, shouting over the music, singing along and generally acting like idiots.
It was more fun than hanging out in the kitchen and acting disaffected, anyway.
But he didn’t say any of that. He just nodded as he leaned near enough to Zayn to keep up the conversation without looking like a creep.
“Yeah, these parties are kind of lame,” Louis agreed. He offered Zayn a smile that he hoped came off as conspiratorial, rather than sleazy. “So how do we always end up here?”
Zayn made a noncommittal noise, raising his plastic cup in a half-salute. “Nothin’ better to do,” he said. “Plus the booze is free.”
It wasn’t exactly the ‘embrace life to the fullest’ attitude that Louis tried to live by, but at least Zayn was talking to him. “Amen to that,” he agreed.
Zayn’s eyes slid over to him, seeming to take Louis in for the first time. Louis shifted nervously, wondering if that was approval he saw in their brown depths. “Get you one?” Zayn offered, raising his cup.
It wasn’t exactly buying him a drink, since the beer was free, and only two feet away. But it was something.
“Sure,” Louis tried his best flirtatious smile on for size.
Zayn didn’t smile back, but then again, he never really smiled at all.
Louis was sure he could get used to that. If Zayn wanted to be his boyfriend. He laughed enough with Harry, anyway. So it was fine if Zayn was a bit more … reserved.
Zayn pumped the keg expertly, filling a cup up to the frothy brim before holding it out to Louis.
As Louis reached for the cup his fingers brushed Zayn’s, a dry slide of skin over skin. He froze, their hands overlapping around the cheap plastic. Louis expected Zayn to pull his hand back, to look away, but instead he stilled as well, leaving their skin pressed minutely together.
Louis’ heart thumped as Zayn bit his lip and peered up at him through his ridiculous lashes.
“Um,” Louis said, and then realized he had absolutely nothing to follow it up with. All he knew was that Zayn wasn’t looking at him like he was the weird kid, the gay kid, the loser of the school. His eyes were warm when they met Louis’, and his fingers moved imperceptibly, to tangle their hands together around the cup. As moments went, it was everything Louis had ever imagined he wanted.
So why did he feel so relieved when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket?
“Oh!” he said, drawing back, away from Zayn, to fish the phone out from his ludicrously tight trousers.
Zayyn’s not my frend
Louis frowned at the text, looking up at the boy in front of him, and then back down at the words on his screen, surprised. Harry always seemed to like Zayn.
NO, I mean he dsn’t like U
Louis’ frown deepened. Harry was drunk texting him, and now Zayn didn’t like him.
Imean, he doent want to fuk u
“You okay?” Zayn asked, leaning back in.
“Um,” Louis looked up, wide eyed, desperately hoping Zayn couldn’t see his screen, where Harry was blathering about Zayn wanting to fuck him. Or not, more specifically.
His phone buzzed again.
Mebbe he does, Harry amended. But he nvr told me
Louis risked a peek at Zayn, who was watching him curiously. Zayn was handsome and mysterious and talented and, from the look they shared, more interested than Harry seemed to think.
But Harry said he wasn’t the guy, and for some reason Louis was kind of relieved.
“I’m just going to, yeah,” he said, gesturing with his phone. “See you around?” He slipped out of the kitchen before Zayn could answer and thumbed a quick text back to Harry.
Has someone ELSE told you they want to fuck me? he typed desperately.
That was...kind of important brand new information.
yeh
my friend thinks you're hot & wants to fuck you
Louis gulped, staring at the phone in his hands. Niall, Liam, Josh, and Zayn zipped through his mind and he bit his lip as he realized he didn’t really want to sleep with any of them. He always imagined his first time being … special, but kind of fun. With someone he could laugh with, who wouldn’t make it awkward or awful, or try to spread rose petals everywhere (like he was sure Liam would). He wanted to be with someone who really got him, in all his ADD, scarf-wearing glory. He wanted someone who didn’t care what anyone else thought about him, or them as a couple. Someone who would stand up for their relationship, no matter what.
He wanted more than the compromises he would have to make to be with any of Harry’s friends-watching football for Niall, or toning down his attitude for Liam, or hanging out with stuck-up jocks for Josh, or pretending not to have fun at parties for Zayn.
He wanted more than a secret admirer. He wanted someone who was willing to come right up to him, and tell Louis they liked him.
His phone vibrated in his hands.
ps i'm my friend
He stopped in a dimly lit hallway, staring down at the words, uncomprehending. Surely Harry couldn’t be saying that he was … that he wanted to … Louis gulped.
“Hey.”
Louis’ eyes flew up to find Harry standing at the end of the corridor, eyes wide, and phone gripped tightly in his hands. He looked uncharacteristically nervous and it made Louis’ heart thump in his chest.
He didn’t know what to say, and so, like usual, he laughed. “You’re drunk texting me, mate,” he said, hoping Harry didn’t hear the squeak in his voice.
At that Harry straightened, rising to his full height and squaring his shoulders. “Nah,” he said, offering Louis one of his signature lopsided grins. “When I drunk text I only talk shite.”
And that had to mean … Louis took a deep breath. “And you’re not now?”
Harry stepped forward, closing the distance between them. “I’m not now,” he confirmed. He ducked his head, peering into Louis’ eyes and biting his absolutely ridiculous red lip. “Is that okay?”
“Is that okay?” Louis asked a little hysterically. He could hear blood rushing in his ears, and his heart felt like it was going to pound out of his chest. Harry. Harry was his secret admirer. Harry wanted to fuck him.
Harry who made him laugh, and never made him feel weird, and didn’t give a damn what anyone else thought of Louis.
Harry, his best friend, who Louis had long known was perfect. But. He had never let himself think too closely about that.
Until now.
“Harry,” he said helplessly.
A grin blossomed over Harry’s face, his eyes lighting up as a dimple appeared in his cheek. The expression was so adorable and brilliant and fond, Louis kind of felt like he might die. Harry bridged the last few feet between them, bringing his large hands up to cup Louis’ face. Louis took a shuddery breath, looking up at his friend’s twinkling eyes.
“My collarbones?” he asked, Harry’s texts coming back to him. “Really?”
Harry laughed, ducking his head down to close the distance between them, his smiling lips catching against Louis’. For a moment they just grinned into each other’s mouths, and something eased in Louis’ chest. This was exactly the kind of kiss he had always wanted.
Not Zayn’s brooding lips, or Liam’s serious care. Not worrying about Josh being too rough, or the food stuck in Niall’s braces.
Just. Laughing into each other, holding each other close.
Finally, Harry nudged him to a better angle and kissed him for real, their lips molding together, with intent.
Louis let himself be led, parting his lips when Harry licked gently against them, letting Harry push even closer, his tongue tangling wetly with Louis’, his thumb stroking over the sharp line of Louis’ cheekbone.
He tangled a hand in Harry’s curls, the way he always wanted to, and let himself be kissed, feeling Harry guide him until his back thumped up against a wall, leaving him pinned between its cool surface and solid mass of boy. Warm, musky boy.
Louis whimpered into Harry’s mouth and he felt more than heard the way the other boy giggled as he drew back. “Okay?”
As if there could be any question. “More than okay.” Louis wasn’t even embarrassed about the stupid grin he knew was plastered on his face. “You think I’m cute?” he asked, just to check.
“I do,” Harry smiled, one of his large hands still cupping Louis’ cheek.
“You like how I dance?”
“Even though you look ridiculous,” Harry agreed.
“Hey!” Louis protested, but he was laughing. “And …” he bit his lip, peering up at his friend. “You want to ask me out?”
Harry’s smile softened. “This Friday? Dinner and a movie?”
Louis felt his heart flutter. A date with his best friend. “Can it still be a stupid movie with too many explosions?”
“Is there any other kind worth watching?” Harry scoffed.
Louis grinned. This was going to be … kind of perfect, he realized.
“Want to go back to the party?” Harry asked. “See if there are any more tables for you to dance on? You only live once.”
Louis laughed, elated. “Too true. To the booze and the dancing!”
As they turned back down the hallway Louis reached out, slipping his hand into Harry’s, his stomach clenching pleasantly as the other boy tangled their fingers together tightly.
“P.S.,” he whispered, leaning in to Harry’s ear. “I like you, too.”
~
[They talk. Kiss. End.]
Pairing: Harry/Louis
Rating: PG
Word Count: 5370
Warning(s): None
Summary: Louis almost can’t believe it when he gets the text: I have a friend who thinks ur cute. But when Harry won’t tell him who his mysterious ‘friend’ is, Louis decides he’ll just have to figure it out for himself.
At the light buzzing in his pocket, Louis glanced up at the teacher and surreptitiously slid his phone out under his desk. A text from Harry lit up his screen, and Louis frowned as he read the words:
I have a friend who thinks ur cute
He looked up, his eyes seeking out his friend across the room. Harry’s head was bent over his book, looking for all the world like a good, studious boy who would never dream of texting during class.
Louis bit his lip and glanced back down at the words on his screen. After a second’s thought he typed out:
No way. Who?
Harry had a lot of friends. Far more than Louis. In fact, Louis still wasn’t sure why Harry hung around with him at all. Manic, bitchy, dramatic Louis Tomlinson, who could never seem to sit still or pay attention, and who always managed to say the wrong thing. He had been on the outside of things his whole life. Until Harry.
His phone vibrated in his hand: Promised I wouldn’t tell.
Louis looked back up at his friend. If it were anyone else, he’d think they were taking the piss. But Harry wouldn’t do that to him, Louis was pretty sure. No matter how much his popular friends gave him a hard time for hanging around Louis, Harry still sat with him at lunch, and texted him during class, and drove him home when he missed this bus (which was nearly every day).
He couldn’t quite imagine, though, that there were many other people in the school who would put up with him, let alone tell Harry Styles that he was cute.
Still, Louis shifted a little in his seat as he scrolled back to Harry’s first text, rereading the words. It felt kind of good to think someone might.
~
At lunch Harry wouldn’t budge on keeping his secret, despite Louis’ persistence in pestering him.
“Come on, Haz,” he whined. “Why would you even say anything if you weren’t going to tell me who it is?”
Harry gave him one of his half-smiles, his lips curling up crookedly, one dimple denting his cheek. “I thought you might want to know.”
Louis quieted at that. He did want to know. His whole morning had improved, thinking someone out there might be thinking he was cute. That he wasn’t just some annoying kid, but a boy cute enough to talk to Harry Styles about.
“Want to know what?” Niall asked, half a scotch egg sticking out of his mouth, practically drooling sausage on the table.
“Nothing. Also, you’re disgusting,” Louis said, out of habit.
Niall merely shrugged, uncaring, and crammed the rest of the egg into his mouth.
It had taken Louis a long time to get used to Niall. At first, he was just Harry’s sporty friend, a guy on the football team who ate too much and drank too much and just seemed like another lughead who might give Louis a hard time, poking fun at his clothes, the way he walked, the way he talked. The kind of guy who had spotted that Louis was different before he even knew it himself, and gave him hell for it.
So Louis ignored Niall, and assumed eventually he’d stopped coming around (and maybe Harry would too, realizing that Louis wasn’t his sort). But instead, Niall continued to sit with them at lunch, and invite himself along to things after school, and sometime around the tenth time he ended up in Louis’s lounge, kicking both Harry and Louis’ asses at FIFA, Louis accepted that they were friends.
His eyes widened. Surely it couldn’t be Niall who thought he was cute?
He eyed the Irish lad a bit more closely, trying to look past the food that was smeared on his chin, or the way he kept trying to talk to Harry despite his mouthful. He wasn’t bad-looking, given the givens, Louis thought. His eyes were quite a lovely shade of blue, now that Louis looked closer, and his skin was good-better than Harry’s, anyway, although Louis always pretended not to notice Harry’s breakouts, because he knew how sensitive the other boy was about them. Niall’s body was okay, although his skin was awfully pale. And then there was the eating. And the constant footie talk. And the eating.
He looked back down at his plate, picking absently at his own lunch. Niall seemed like an unlikely candidate, but then again, he was one of Harry’s few friends who could stand Louis. And maybe, he thought, it wouldn’t be so bad if it was Niall.
Louis looked up just as the Irish boy grinned, a mouthful of braces and flecks of sausage. Then again, maybe not.
~
My friend said to tell u that shirt looks good on u
Louis glanced down at his shirt and then back at his phone, mystified. He was just wearing a simple white t-shirt, and besides, since when did anyone notice anything he wore? Unless they were shoving him into lockers and telling him it was too gay. (He liked scarves, thank you very much. It had nothing to do with his sexuality).
Harry was watching him this time, smirking at Louis’ confusion as he blatantly tried to figure out what there was to like about this particularly shirt. Louis frowned at him and Harry ducked his head over his phone again, ignoring the droning of their history teacher.
It shows off your collarbones. Makes you look fit, popped up on his phone. Louis’ eyes widened.
My friend says.
Right, Louis typed, his eyes scanning the room. Was it someone in this class? Which friend, again?
Not telling! :) x Harry shot him a wide, cheeky grin.
Louis rolled his eyes. Of course he wouldn’t give it up that easily. He let his eyes drift away from Harry-who looked pretty good in the shirt he was wearing, too, if Louis was being perfectly honest-to consider the other occupants of the room. It was only second period, so not that many people could have seen Louis and his apparently collarbone-flattering t-shirt.
Liam was in this class, Louis noted, feeling a bit uncomfortable. Liam was probably more Louis’ friend than Harry’s, although they all hung out. Liam was quiet and reserved and spent all his time on homework, trying to keep up with his classmates, and so he didn’t really run with the same crowds as Harry. He and Louis had become friends rather by default, being the last two picked in every phys ed class and for every class project. Eventually they just started partnering with each other, rather than always feeling left out. Given a few years Louis realized that Liam wasn’t quite the stick-in-the-mud he seemed to be, and Liam seemed to realize that merely talking to Louis wouldn’t immediately get him suspended (although they had come close a few times-which Liam never let him forget).
And because Liam and Louis were friends, Liam and Harry became friends. But were they close enough for Liam to tell Harry something so personal?
More importantly, was there any way Liam was sitting there thinking about Louis’ collarbones?
Louis really, really hoped not. Liam was a good-looking lad: he was tall and muscular and had big brown puppy dog eyes. But he also scolded Louis constantly, and told him to wear a jacket when he went out, and just generally mothered the hell out of him.
Not exactly what Louis pictured in a boyfriend, when he allowed himself to picture such a thing at all.
No, he thought morosely. Liam wouldn’t do. He glanced back down at Harry’s text and hoped against hope that it was someone who might be a bit more mischievous than the sensible Payner. And someone who might eventually want Louis to know who they were.
~
The music was pounding, a deafening roar in Louis’ ears as he downed another shot. He had lost track of Niall at some point, subsumed into the crowd that was currently wrecking the Devine’s house. Josh was Niall’s friend from the football team, and normally this kind of party was the last place Louis would want to spend his Saturday night, but. Harry was going to be there.
Harry, who Louis couldn’t find anywhere in the melee.
He shook his head and grabbed another drink, not even bothering to look what it was before knocking half of it back. He was here to have fun, so fun he would have, Harry or no Harry, Louis decided. Hell, someone in the world thought he was cute and had nice collarbones. If that didn’t warrant a drunken celebration, he didn’t know what did.
Louis followed the sound of shouting into the living room to find Josh stood on his own coffee table, a beer in each hand, dancing like a lunatic and trying to get the rest of the room to join in. Well, Louis thought with a shrug, taking another gulp of the burning liquid in his cup. You only live once.
The song was a good one, his head was swimming, and there was no one around to tell him it wasn’t a good idea, so he launched himself up on the table next to Josh, bellowing a “hello!” over the sounds of Katy Perry. Josh had been known to shove him into a locker or two before Harry and Niall intervened, but tonight he just screamed his approval, doing a sloppy little jig next to where Louis was bumping and grinding like the teenage dream Katy Perry told him he was.
The music drowned out any jeers that were floating his way from the gathered crowd and Louis threw his head back, laughing to himself as he let loose and just danced, however he wanted to. Fuck everyone else and what they thought of him.
A few songs later Louis raised his cup to his lips and came up dry. He blinked into its depths for a moment, wondering why nothing was coming out, until realization dawned. “I’m going to get another drink!” he bellowed at Josh.
“I love you man!” the boy screamed back, face red and hair slicked with sweat. Louis laughed and launched himself into the crowd, shoving his way through with an utter disregard for everyone’s personal space and physical comfort. A few elbows to the gut later and he reached the kitchen, panting in the doorway while he tried to remember what he had come there for.
“Right!” he announced to no one. “A drink!”
A few girls gave him a look that told him he’d be hearing about this on Monday, but that was the best thing about being drunk, as far as Louis was concerned. The eternal worry about what his idiot classmates would say about him faded for the moment, and he could be as ridiculous and camp as he wanted. Live while you’re young, he thought, and tossed back another shot.
A persistent buzz at his hip had Louis blinking in confusion before he remembered the existence of phones and dug his out with clumsy fingers. Harry’s name flashed on his screen and he grinned.
My friend likes the way u dance
Louis’ eyes widened. The words swam in front of his eyes a bit, but after a moment it occurred to him that the text meant his ‘admirer’ (if the person could be called that. And he hoped they could) was at this party.
Of course, most of the school was at this party. Still, though, his options had narrowed down to the people who could fit into Josh’s living room, and thus might have witnessed him shaking his ass to LMFAO.
Louis hurried to the doorway and peeked back into the room, trying to make out any familiar faces. But the only one who stood out was Josh himself, still standing proudly on the coffee table, and currently spilling beer onto the head of a girl in Louis’ chemistry class.
He hated that bitch, anyway.
“Louis!” Josh called, spotting him. “Come back and dance with me!”
Louis looked down at his phone and then back up at Josh.
He likes the way I dance, he thought with a gulp. Josh kept waving, his beer drenching the poor girl below him and sweat dripping down his back.
“No thanks!” Louis called back, hurriedly fleeing the room.
~
Come Monday morning, Louis was still in knots over who Harry’s texts might have been about. He hadn’t seen the other boy all weekend, which wasn’t unusual, but which still left him feeling out of sorts and bit … empty if he was honest with himself.
Which Louis almost never was, because he hated to admit that Harry Styles might be that big a part of his life. Sure, he liked hanging out with the other lad, and yes, Harry was smart and funny and talented and for some reason laughed at all of Louis’ jokes. But still … that didn’t mean he couldn’t go two days without seeing him.
Nevertheless, Louis felt his face light up when he spotted Harry leaning against his locker, clearly waiting for someone.
“Who’re you stalking this week, Styles?” Louis asked, shoving the other boy out of the way to get at his locker. “Someone with the last name T?” Louis guessed, given the locker section Harry had been occupying. He wrinkled his nose. “Is it that girl? The one with the hair?”
Harry barked out a laugh, leaning his lanky body right up in Louis’ personal space as Louis fished for books out of the cavern of his locker. “A compelling description. But no, I don’t think ‘the one with the hair’ has made any kind of impression. Besides,” his eyes crinkled up with a grin. “Can’t I just be stalking you?”
Louis ducked his head further into his locker to hide the blush that rushed, unbidden, to his cheeks, and shook his head. “It’s not your traditional M.O.”
“Well, maybe I’m branching out,” Harry said, his voice suddenly serious, and Louis looked up at him in surprise.
But Harry just gave him another dimpled grin and slung a long arm around his shoulders. “Come on, we have classes to ignore.”
Louis let himself be dragged down the hall, trying not to feel vindicated by the jealous looks half the female population was giving him at the sight of Harry at his side.
History was just as boring as always, and Louis was relieved when he felt his phone vibrate halfway through class. He looked away from the complex set of doodles he was inscribing on his desk to slide the phone out of his pocket.
The text was from Harry, because who else would it be from?, and Louis thumbed it open with a grin.
My friend wants to ask u out but hes shy
Louis chewed his lip, reading over the words again. At least Harry had finally confirmed that his ‘friend’ was a guy-although Louis knew that Harry knew that Louis was gay, even though by unspoken agreement they never talked about it. Still … it was something to go on.
And shy, huh? He glanced up at the back of Harry’s curly head. Harry’s friends were usually as outgoing as Harry was, so that piece of information narrowed it down even more. Louis thought back to Josh, dancing wildly on his living room table, and mentally ruled him out. Niall was the same-loud and carefree and about as far from shy as a boy could get.
He could still mean Liam, Louis thought, tapping his pencil idly on his desk. Or … his eyes tracked across the room.
There was Zayn.
Zayn was almost as much of a loner as Louis was, except his outsider status was by choice rather than default. He was dark and mysterious and wore leather jackets and didn’t talk to anyone-except Harry, because Harry insisted on being friends with absolutely everyone. Zayn smoked behind the school and drew complicated pictures in his notebook that he never let anyone see, and basically didn’t seem to give a fuck about high school.
Louis would normally classify Zayn as ‘enigmatic’, but he guessed ‘shy’ would work, too.
And, now that he took a closer look, he supposed Zayn was rather ridiculously good-looking. If you were in to the male model type, that is.
Louis looked at the way the boy’s long dark lashes laid shadows across his high cheekbones as he bent over his notebook, and squirmed a little in his seat.
That … wouldn’t be so bad, he admitted to himself, admiring the way the black leather of Zayn’s jacket emphasized the width of his shoulders and the narrowness of his waist.
He glanced back over at Harry who was watching him with a curious smile, all floppy curls and deep dimples, and he couldn’t stop the answering grin that spread over his face. Harry arched his eyebrows, ever the cheeky chap, and Louis had to fight the urge to giggle out loud, embarrassed and pleased all at once about the secret they were sharing in the texts.
Stop you, he quickly texted back, watching the way it made Harry smile, ducking his head to hide it in the mass of his curls.
u like it, came back instantly and even as Louis shook his head he had to admit, he did like it.
He didn’t glance back to Zayn once during the rest of class.
~
Still, at lunch Louis cornered Harry by the utensils, pressing close with his tray full of meat product and potato-like substance.
“What’s up?” Harry laughed.
“Your friend,” Louis said, lowering his voice.
Harry looked away, reaching to fiddle with the spoons, clanking them together but not picking one up. “Yeah?”
“Is it Zayn?”
“What?” Harry looked up, green eyes wide.
Louis shot him a meaningful look, lowering his voice even more. This was the last conversation he’d want anyone to overhear. “You said the guy was shy. So I was thinking, maybe Zayn?”
“Oh,” Harry said, shaking his fringe into his face. “Did you-did you want it to be Zayn?” he asked carefully.
Louis shrugged, not quite meeting his friend’s eyes. “I don’t know,” he said evasively. None of Harry’s friends had really caught his interest. He wanted someone who made him smile, who’s very presence made him light up inside. But, he reminded himself, he’d be lucky if any of the guys in the school wanted him-manic, gay, loner that he was. “He’s really fit,” he finished lamely.
“Yeah,” Harry nodded behind his curtain of hair. “I guess he is. Pretty?”
Louis snorted. “Pretty?”
“What?” Harry defended, finally shaking his curls out of his face to meet Louis’ eyes. “He’s got those cheekbones and those lips.”
“Really, Styles? Noticing his lips?” Louis smirked, happy to be back in familiar territory.
“Oh, shut up, you,” Harry chided, knocking their shoulders together. “You’re the one who wants him to be your secret admirer.”
They moved towards their usual table, where Niall was already sat, shovelling food into his mouth.
Louis frowned at Harry, unsure what that meant. Was it a yes or a no? But Harry was already sliding into the seat next to Niall, jostling the blond with his elbow to make him splutter.
“Louis, he’s abusing me!” Niall complained as Louis dropped into the seat across from him.
“Yes,” Louis agreed. Harry was stealing all of Niall’s chips. In Niall’s world, that certainly counted as abuse.
“Well aren’t you going to do anything about it?” Niall asked piteously.
Louis smirked. “Since when have I ever taken your side over Harry’s?” He asked.
“Yeah, yeah,” Niall muttered. “We all know you love him best.”
Louis would have argued, but Harry was leaning across the table to nudge a chip at his lips, sharing his spoils, so Louis was a bit distracted.
~
That weekend Louis found himself at yet another party, surrounded by classmates he didn’t particularly like, while he pathetically searched for Harry.
“I’ll meet you there, he said,” he muttered mutinously as he pushed his way through the crowd. “Just come find me, he said.”
The room was absolutely packed, and there was no way Louis was going to find Harry in the crowd. Harry would have better luck finding him, he decided, since the other lad had height to his advantage.
So Louis turned away from the sweaty mass and headed for the kitchen instead, following the siren call of warm beer in plastic cups. When he reached the doorway, though, he stopped short.
Zayn stood alone in the kitchen, slouching back against the countertop like he was born to brood, his leather jacket and quiffed hair perfectly completing the picture. Harry had been evasive about ‘his friend’ since Louis asked about Zayn, refusing to answer questions and sending no more cryptic texts.
The fact that Harry had backed off after his guess made Louis all the more sure he was right. If Zayn was as shy as Harry said, maybe he had asked Harry to stop sending hints until he was ready to talk to Louis himself.
And now here they were, alone together.
Louis glanced down at himself, pulling his shirt straight and wishing he hadn’t worn such bright trousers. Zayn never seemed to wear anything but black and white, and looked effortlessly cool doing so. Louis favored patterns and colors, and, for one memorable year, braces with every shirt he wore. Still, the idea that he had a secret admirer had given him a confidence boost, and so he strode into the kitchen, flashing Zayn a bright smile as he reached the keg. “Hey, mate.”
Zayn looked up slowly, blinking lazily at him through his thick, dark lashes. Louis took a moment to admire the way they framed his brown eyes, prettier than any girl’s he’d ever seen. “Hey, Louis.”
And that was a good sign, Louis thought, biting his lip. Zayn definitely knew his name. That didn’t immediately mean he was Louis’ secret admirer, but it didn’t rule it out either. “Good party?”
Zayn shrugged, an effortless roll of his shoulders. “You know. They’re all the same.”
Louis had said as much a million times before, complaining that all the parties were stupid and all the people were lame. But Harry always dragged him alone and somehow he always ended up having a good time in the end, dancing and laughing with Harry, shouting over the music, singing along and generally acting like idiots.
It was more fun than hanging out in the kitchen and acting disaffected, anyway.
But he didn’t say any of that. He just nodded as he leaned near enough to Zayn to keep up the conversation without looking like a creep.
“Yeah, these parties are kind of lame,” Louis agreed. He offered Zayn a smile that he hoped came off as conspiratorial, rather than sleazy. “So how do we always end up here?”
Zayn made a noncommittal noise, raising his plastic cup in a half-salute. “Nothin’ better to do,” he said. “Plus the booze is free.”
It wasn’t exactly the ‘embrace life to the fullest’ attitude that Louis tried to live by, but at least Zayn was talking to him. “Amen to that,” he agreed.
Zayn’s eyes slid over to him, seeming to take Louis in for the first time. Louis shifted nervously, wondering if that was approval he saw in their brown depths. “Get you one?” Zayn offered, raising his cup.
It wasn’t exactly buying him a drink, since the beer was free, and only two feet away. But it was something.
“Sure,” Louis tried his best flirtatious smile on for size.
Zayn didn’t smile back, but then again, he never really smiled at all.
Louis was sure he could get used to that. If Zayn wanted to be his boyfriend. He laughed enough with Harry, anyway. So it was fine if Zayn was a bit more … reserved.
Zayn pumped the keg expertly, filling a cup up to the frothy brim before holding it out to Louis.
As Louis reached for the cup his fingers brushed Zayn’s, a dry slide of skin over skin. He froze, their hands overlapping around the cheap plastic. Louis expected Zayn to pull his hand back, to look away, but instead he stilled as well, leaving their skin pressed minutely together.
Louis’ heart thumped as Zayn bit his lip and peered up at him through his ridiculous lashes.
“Um,” Louis said, and then realized he had absolutely nothing to follow it up with. All he knew was that Zayn wasn’t looking at him like he was the weird kid, the gay kid, the loser of the school. His eyes were warm when they met Louis’, and his fingers moved imperceptibly, to tangle their hands together around the cup. As moments went, it was everything Louis had ever imagined he wanted.
So why did he feel so relieved when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket?
“Oh!” he said, drawing back, away from Zayn, to fish the phone out from his ludicrously tight trousers.
Zayyn’s not my frend
Louis frowned at the text, looking up at the boy in front of him, and then back down at the words on his screen, surprised. Harry always seemed to like Zayn.
NO, I mean he dsn’t like U
Louis’ frown deepened. Harry was drunk texting him, and now Zayn didn’t like him.
Imean, he doent want to fuk u
“You okay?” Zayn asked, leaning back in.
“Um,” Louis looked up, wide eyed, desperately hoping Zayn couldn’t see his screen, where Harry was blathering about Zayn wanting to fuck him. Or not, more specifically.
His phone buzzed again.
Mebbe he does, Harry amended. But he nvr told me
Louis risked a peek at Zayn, who was watching him curiously. Zayn was handsome and mysterious and talented and, from the look they shared, more interested than Harry seemed to think.
But Harry said he wasn’t the guy, and for some reason Louis was kind of relieved.
“I’m just going to, yeah,” he said, gesturing with his phone. “See you around?” He slipped out of the kitchen before Zayn could answer and thumbed a quick text back to Harry.
Has someone ELSE told you they want to fuck me? he typed desperately.
That was...kind of important brand new information.
yeh
my friend thinks you're hot & wants to fuck you
Louis gulped, staring at the phone in his hands. Niall, Liam, Josh, and Zayn zipped through his mind and he bit his lip as he realized he didn’t really want to sleep with any of them. He always imagined his first time being … special, but kind of fun. With someone he could laugh with, who wouldn’t make it awkward or awful, or try to spread rose petals everywhere (like he was sure Liam would). He wanted to be with someone who really got him, in all his ADD, scarf-wearing glory. He wanted someone who didn’t care what anyone else thought about him, or them as a couple. Someone who would stand up for their relationship, no matter what.
He wanted more than the compromises he would have to make to be with any of Harry’s friends-watching football for Niall, or toning down his attitude for Liam, or hanging out with stuck-up jocks for Josh, or pretending not to have fun at parties for Zayn.
He wanted more than a secret admirer. He wanted someone who was willing to come right up to him, and tell Louis they liked him.
His phone vibrated in his hands.
ps i'm my friend
He stopped in a dimly lit hallway, staring down at the words, uncomprehending. Surely Harry couldn’t be saying that he was … that he wanted to … Louis gulped.
“Hey.”
Louis’ eyes flew up to find Harry standing at the end of the corridor, eyes wide, and phone gripped tightly in his hands. He looked uncharacteristically nervous and it made Louis’ heart thump in his chest.
He didn’t know what to say, and so, like usual, he laughed. “You’re drunk texting me, mate,” he said, hoping Harry didn’t hear the squeak in his voice.
At that Harry straightened, rising to his full height and squaring his shoulders. “Nah,” he said, offering Louis one of his signature lopsided grins. “When I drunk text I only talk shite.”
And that had to mean … Louis took a deep breath. “And you’re not now?”
Harry stepped forward, closing the distance between them. “I’m not now,” he confirmed. He ducked his head, peering into Louis’ eyes and biting his absolutely ridiculous red lip. “Is that okay?”
“Is that okay?” Louis asked a little hysterically. He could hear blood rushing in his ears, and his heart felt like it was going to pound out of his chest. Harry. Harry was his secret admirer. Harry wanted to fuck him.
Harry who made him laugh, and never made him feel weird, and didn’t give a damn what anyone else thought of Louis.
Harry, his best friend, who Louis had long known was perfect. But. He had never let himself think too closely about that.
Until now.
“Harry,” he said helplessly.
A grin blossomed over Harry’s face, his eyes lighting up as a dimple appeared in his cheek. The expression was so adorable and brilliant and fond, Louis kind of felt like he might die. Harry bridged the last few feet between them, bringing his large hands up to cup Louis’ face. Louis took a shuddery breath, looking up at his friend’s twinkling eyes.
“My collarbones?” he asked, Harry’s texts coming back to him. “Really?”
Harry laughed, ducking his head down to close the distance between them, his smiling lips catching against Louis’. For a moment they just grinned into each other’s mouths, and something eased in Louis’ chest. This was exactly the kind of kiss he had always wanted.
Not Zayn’s brooding lips, or Liam’s serious care. Not worrying about Josh being too rough, or the food stuck in Niall’s braces.
Just. Laughing into each other, holding each other close.
Finally, Harry nudged him to a better angle and kissed him for real, their lips molding together, with intent.
Louis let himself be led, parting his lips when Harry licked gently against them, letting Harry push even closer, his tongue tangling wetly with Louis’, his thumb stroking over the sharp line of Louis’ cheekbone.
He tangled a hand in Harry’s curls, the way he always wanted to, and let himself be kissed, feeling Harry guide him until his back thumped up against a wall, leaving him pinned between its cool surface and solid mass of boy. Warm, musky boy.
Louis whimpered into Harry’s mouth and he felt more than heard the way the other boy giggled as he drew back. “Okay?”
As if there could be any question. “More than okay.” Louis wasn’t even embarrassed about the stupid grin he knew was plastered on his face. “You think I’m cute?” he asked, just to check.
“I do,” Harry smiled, one of his large hands still cupping Louis’ cheek.
“You like how I dance?”
“Even though you look ridiculous,” Harry agreed.
“Hey!” Louis protested, but he was laughing. “And …” he bit his lip, peering up at his friend. “You want to ask me out?”
Harry’s smile softened. “This Friday? Dinner and a movie?”
Louis felt his heart flutter. A date with his best friend. “Can it still be a stupid movie with too many explosions?”
“Is there any other kind worth watching?” Harry scoffed.
Louis grinned. This was going to be … kind of perfect, he realized.
“Want to go back to the party?” Harry asked. “See if there are any more tables for you to dance on? You only live once.”
Louis laughed, elated. “Too true. To the booze and the dancing!”
As they turned back down the hallway Louis reached out, slipping his hand into Harry’s, his stomach clenching pleasantly as the other boy tangled their fingers together tightly.
“P.S.,” he whispered, leaning in to Harry’s ear. “I like you, too.”
~
[They talk. Kiss. End.]