this mind is a black hole ~ larry stylinson

prologue

A/N: Alriiight well hi again! So this is going to be another chaptered fic of mine, and it's going to be a bit different than the others I think, so I hope you like it! Umm I don't really know what else to say about the fic itself other than the fact that it gets extremely hard to update for me during school because I have a ton of work and stuff, but I promise you all that I'm writing whenever I can and I will post chapters as quickly as possible, I'm not like dragging it out purposely to make you wait or anything. And I also don't have the entire fic written out beforehand either, I literally post everything I have when I update, I don't keep anything hidden or anything like that. I write as I go along. If I had the entire fic written out right now, I'd post it all for you.

Seeing as I'm in the 11th grade, I obviously know nothing about university or campus life or how going to university works at all really, so if there are any mistakes, bear with me.

I don't own anything or anyone. This is all a figment of my imagination.

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this mind is a black hole 

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"beauty does not come in sizes

it comes in smiles

it comes in glimmering eyes

it comes in love

it comes in you."

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It's Friday, and Harry's late. It's just an ordinary Friday too, the first day of Harry's first semester of uni at UCLA. In America. Hundreds and hundreds of miles away from where he grew up in England, from Holmes Chapel, from home.

Okay, so maybe it's not just an ordinary Friday, but it's not an extremely special day either. Just normal. But that's not the point.

The point is that Harry's sprinting across campus, about three minutes away from being late to his mid-morning Shakespeare seminar. He'd spent a solid twenty minutes trying to find it, going from building to building before someone kindly pointed him in the right direction. Turns out it was located in basically the exact spot he'd started looking.

Fuck UCLA and its massive massiveness.

He sighs in relief when he rounds a corner and sees the building in front of him. By the time he actually makes it into the room, he's sweaty and burning and hating life. He sinks into a seat in the back row, practically throwing his rucksack to the ground and letting out a heavy, exhausted sigh. Luckily, the professor hasn't arrived yet, so everyone's just talking quietly, on their phones, or staring off into the distance.

Everyone except one person, that is.

He's sitting a few seats down from Harry, to his right. He's frantically jotting something down in a small notepad, glasses almost slipping off his nose and tongue poking out in his concentration. The mystery boy runs a hand through his hair in frustration, glaring down at the paper in front of him with what, curiously enough, seems to be a combination of resentment and sadness.

When Harry sees him, he's rendered speechless. He's quite disappointed in himself, actually, because he never thought life could actually be such a cliche but hey, you never know, right?

Anyways.

Literally every single thought in his mind is gone. Just, poof. Bye. Gone.

He feels as though this person is familiar in a really strange way, but also knows that he definitely would've remembered a face like that, had he ever seen it.

It's then that he realizes that he's basically gaping at this boy sitting not even two meters away from him and that he's definitely going to notice Harry staring at him like a loon.