3. Pressure

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They both sit crisscross on the hardwood floor next to eachother. They pass the brown box back and forth discussing Louis' rather, as Harry called it, "Magnificently spectacular" music collection.

"The Kooks, Cage the Elephant, Two Door Cinema Club, Arctic Monkeys-" Harry pauses and his expression changes from immaculately impressed to child on Christmas morning. "The 1975." He holds the cd up like its the reincarnation of baby Jesus.

"Want to listen to it?" He asks, flicking his head to the right.

"Do I?!"

Louis carefully pops the cd into the player and the song "Pressure" begins to fill the room.

"My broken veins say that if my heart stops beating, we'll bleed the same way," Harry sings along while organizing the other discs. Louis thinks he is quite good, and his voice was beautiful just like the rest of him. He wishes for him to sing him to sleep sometime.

"I like your voice," Louis blurts out, before he can stop himself. "Im sorry." He laughs, his hands covering his face. "Ah. "

"Thank you, pal." Harry says, wrapping his arm around him. "We are friends right?"

"Of course." Louis has just met the boy, why was he hugging him?

"Thank goodness, because I get quite lonely here by myself." He says and Louis feels a pang of sadness in his heart. "I don't have many friends and I don't know why, I try to be nice to people but they are always so rude in return. I never did anything either." He says, looking down.

"Hey, they're assholes. You're a great friend, and you seem to have a genuine heart. Fuck them." Louis retorts. "What year are you?"

"17, 18 in a few weeks."

"You're about to finish school, and you will forget about them as soon as you walk out of those doors. Life goes on."

"Wait, how old are you?" Harry asks.

"19."

"Oh, we're pretty close in age." Harry says, he secretly thanks the stars and moon because he likes Louis.

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