The Exceptionals

Chapter Ten: Fluorescent Adolescents

I'm Not In Love - 10cc

     There's an undisturbed majesty in the way his hair clashes so tastefully with the wind. A soft pink, deep tint, gently colouring his lips as his lean body rests against the brick wall. In the way his leather jacket hugs him so perfectly. In the way he smiles down with so kindly,  delicately carved dimples hollowing his cheeks. In the way he talks so slowly; nevertheless, his bluntly sharp jawline follows with every small syllable that dips out of his honey-dipped mouth. In the way his soft curls secretly hush and frame his face and tickle the nape of his soft neck. In the way the sun catches over his good side, in his skin and makes him golden, peering into which almost makes the green beryl colour of his pungent eyes invisible under the sumptuous light. In a way, Harry looks interesting.

And Louis stands there, under a tree, looking all over those things that make him, him. Impressive. Maybe even wonderf—

"Whatcha looking at?"

"Fuck!" Louis yells, taking a hurried step back while clutching his chest. 

Liam laughs at him, folding over as he clasps the dirty ground with his hands and sits there, laughing. Louis yells at him and kicks him in the shin, making the latter topple over, in pain and laughter, as he clutches his leg and continues to cackle. Louis glares at him. "You scared me, Liam!" He glances over towards the curly-headed boy, who was still talking up some girl, then back at Liam as he swallows painfully hard. "Don't scare me like that, Jesus."

Liam shakily stands up all while burying his face in his dirty hands as he calms down, cooling himself off whilst still in a string of giggles. "Fuck mate, almost made me wee myself." He then looks back up at Louis, wipes a tear, and then sighs. He smiles and looks over towards where Louis' eyes previously stared under the secrecy of an oak tree. "Ohhhhh..." In a matter of quite, little, slow seconds, as Liam spotted what Louis was looking at, his face turned sour, then soft, then apprehensive. "Oh."

Louis' mouth went dry. "Oh, what?" 

"I get it."

"What is there to get?" Louis' heart began to beat out of his skin.

Liam frowned sympathetically. "Hey, it's okay, I won't tell." Louis began to shake his head in panic, but Liam stopped him. "I get it. It's fine, Louis. I have crushes too, you know." Trying to laugh quietly to ease Louis' notable concern, it's a pitiful attempt.

"What are you on about?" Louis went for nonchalantly but his neck was on fire, and so were his cheeks. Louis doesn't have a fucking crush—what is he on about? Yet, why isn't he repulsed by just the idea alone, the mere thought? Why isn't Liam spitting on him? Not that Louis had a crush, 'cause he doesn't. But Louis was staring at Harry and fucking hell, Louis is a fucking creep. And Liam knows, and fuck, Louis wants to fucking kill himself. 

"Mate, it's clear you got a thing for..." Liam hinted behind him with a flicker of his eyes. "Promise I won't tell anyone though." He clipped a hand over Louis' shoulders and grabbed them tensely, squeezing him in a show of brotherly love as sympathy spread over his face. 

Liam seemed so kind with his words, he didn't seem to judge one bit. He didn't seem to find it weird that Louis was creepily staring at Harry, a boy. 

But Louis still felt his stomach drop to the darkest pit of hell. 

"Not all of us get a chance with Claire Williams."

There's a moment, a slight, brief moment, where Louis thinks his ear starts to ring. 

"Claire... Williams?"