this mind is a black hole ~ larry stylinson

week three: part one

A/N: Okay, so I'm making week three into two parts because there's so much that I want to happen and I can't write it all in one part because there's SO MUCH, so, yeah. Plus, I still have a ton of homework to do, and I don't have much time left to do it, so I can't write any more tonight. I'm sorry if the ending of this part is kind of abrupt, I promise I'll continue with more soon, I just sadly don't have time today :,(  

Please let me know what you think so far, the responses I've gotten for this story so far have made me so happy and in all honesty, motivated me to write more today, so thank you all! I hope you like it :)

And yes, I did make it apartment 1D, I did go there, I just had to. What of it. Come at me. 

****

Sweaty palms, shallow breathing, shaky knees. Complete, utter mess; why do I even try?

This is all that has become of Harry's thought process as he walks over to sit by Louis in the cafe, per usual, the following Friday.

Unlike that one Friday two weeks before, the day that Harry saw Louis for the first time, this Friday is absolutely not an ordinary day. This Friday is going to quickly become either one of the best or worst Fridays Harry has ever had in his entire life.

Because today, Harry has decided to attempt the impossible.

He wipes his shaking hands on his jeans as he gets closer. Louis glances up at him, and gives him a small smile and a nod in acknowledgement. He doesn't seem to notice Harry's evident nervousness. He has a textbook open and propped up in front of him, with "Microbiology" written across the front. His little notepad is sitting off to the side, next to his cappuccino.

Louis' wearing a maroon beanie today, and he has a little tuft of his caramel fringe peeking out of the front. His black-rimmed glasses look dark as ever, providing a sharp, square contrast against his soft features. He's grown out a bit of stubble that dots his chin and cheeks which, again, provides contrast against his otherwise delicate face. It's all so different and interesting and beautiful, Louis is so, so beautiful, and Harry can't breathe.

He sinks into the chair across from Louis at the table, and let out a tiny, barely audible sigh. Louis' eyes are on him, and they're light and warm and open. "Hey Curly," he says the way that he always does, in his soft voice, jokingly but with a hint of uncertainty, as if he thinks Harry could be the bearer of some sort of bad news.

"Hi Lou. Um. I." His voice shakes. He's pathetic. "I was just wondering if, maybe we could talk for a sec? I mean, only if you're not too busy." He gestures with a timid hand at Louis' textbook.

Louis' expression is curious. "Nah, I was just getting ahead a bit." He shuts the book and slides it into his satchel without looking away from Harry's face. "What did you want to talk about?"

"Uh." Why oh why did Harry decide to do this? "I was wondering if, uh, if you were busy tomorrow night?"

Louis freezes.

No, literally. He isn't even blinking.

Shit.

When Louis finally responds, he looks very wary and very unimpressed. Harry is, needless to say, terrified beyond belief. "I'm-I'm not doing anything, no..."

Now, does Harry continue on and even ask, or just leave it at that and change the subject?

Louis' eyes aren't warm and open anymore; they're cold. His blue irises look like they've been cracked open with sharp, gray streaks.

So Harry opts for the latter.

"Oh, okay," is all he says, before he hastily ducks down to pull his calc book out of his rucksack, hiding his face from Louis. Tears prick at his eyes as he bites his lip. Be a man, Styles. At least you tried.