young & beautiful | harry's pov

xvi.

"What do you mean? I can do better than that?"

Harry didn't mean for that to come so...soft. But Louis had said something that fucked with his mind yet again, catching him off guard and hitting him like a shockwave. Confusion and surprise coursed through his veins, as he watches Louis uncross his arms and let them fall to his sides, slowly turning his face back to Harry.

"Just what I said," he responds gently, before he flicks the hair out of his eyes, voice picking up in strength, "Now. Aren't you going to ask why I am here?"

Harry ducks his head, shuffles a bit, "Why are you here?" he asks almost sheepishly, embarrassed, as he mumbles to the floor, hugging his stomach.

"Because I need to study and Niall's being a wanker. I liked it here yesterday. So. Will you take me?" A smile plays at his lips, and Harry think he might faint.

His head snaps back up before letting it fall back down again, his feet making circles on his thick Persian rug, "Well. I was just sort of getting ready for the day. I mean, I don't have classes or anything, because I've already finished the coursework for all of them. Just, like, doing little things and looking over my song. So, I mean, yeah, that's fine," he finds himself rambling, whilst fiddling with his watch.

Louis grins.

His heart warms just that bit more.

"Splendid!" he says, immediately making a beeline for Harry's bedroom, "Let's go in here, yeah? It's cozy. I like it," he smiles once more, before settling in the same chair he sat in yesterday.

And Harry's lips did not twitch. At all. And he definitely was not endeared at the sight of Louis nuzzling deeper into the chair and smiling sleepily at him.

"Have you finished your song?" Louis asks suddenly, breaking him from his train of thought.

"Yeah."

"Can I hear it?"

Harry turns, walking to the window, hesitation practically oozing out of him in puddles. He stares blankly at scenery, taking in nothing before him as his mind goes haywire. "In a bit though. Not right now, yeah?"

"Yeah. All right," Louis says softly, a soft lilt to his voice, and it's pleasant, very much so. Not to mention incredibly soothing.

And then Louis goes back to study, which prompts Harry to...do something. He finds himself puttering about, mindlessly sending texts to different people, pulling out books to "read" them (he really doesn't, he's too distracted to), and sifting through papers.

He was distracted, though, by the sight of the electrifying ocean blue eyes, soft brunette hair that he always flicks out of his eyes, and the extremely casual wear he somehow pulls off everyday. He watches as Louis studies, his eyes reading the pages, his mouth silently mouthing the words, as he ponders about this boy in front of him. He has so many questions, so many, but one stands above the rest.

"Did you get on with your father?"

Louis looks up, startled.

"What?" he asks, taken aback, staring at Harry.

He doesn't look up from his book, fearing for his reaction, "I noticed you call him by his name. And you said he didn't like you. Why?"

He notices Louis hesitate for a moment, eyes wary, before it morphs back to calm and indifference before shrugging, playing with the spiral of his notebook.

"We just clash. He thinks I'm annoying and too loud. And immature." He pauses, a hand starting to fiddle with his fringe, looking restless, "But to be honest, I think the main reason he dislikes me is because I'm gay."