Baby Lips [l.s mpreg] (boyxboy)

bronzer

"I'm sorry."

Harry peeks up at him through his unfairly long eyelashes, but he doesn't say a word in response. He eats another bite of his sandwich, a bit forcefully, before he sits back and folds his hands on the table. He looks at Louis expectantly.

"Can I help you?"

Louis shifts his weight awkwardly from foot to foot, tray heavy in his hands, and coughs. "Um, I just wanted to apologize. For, y'know. Calling you what I did."

"It's okay."

"No, um, it's not." Louis looks away. Harry is silent for a few seconds, but he clears the area next to him and catches Louis's eye by clearing his throat.

"Sit," he says, and Louis does. He scrambles over and sinks down next to Harry somewhat gratefully, because finding a seat in the cafeteria is a struggle that Louis goes through almost every day. He usually ends up in the library. Harry's hand rests on Louis's shoulder, but he tries not to tense up. "I'm sorry if I came on too strong. I didn't mean to-"

"I know. I shouldn't have called you, um, I shouldn't have said you were a freak."

Harry blushes. "You're not the first one to have said that."

"I also know that, and that's why I feel so terrible. You're not a freak for... doing what you do, okay?" Louis finds himself relaxing into Harry's touch a little bit too quickly.

The other boy is quiet for a few moments, and just when Louis looks over to make sure he's actually listening, he speaks up. "Thank you."

He nods. "Yeah, no problem. Can I... stay here? Like, and eat."

"If you want." Harry seems just as surprised as Louis feels himself - he's not sure why he's even attempting to talk to someone like Harry, someone who he knows will draw an unnecessarily large amount of attention to himself - but he stays and eats his mushy blob of school-cooked meat quietly.

He's just moving on to attacking the moist green vegetable on the corner of his tray when Harry speaks again. "My name is Harry, by the way. Harry Styles."

Louis hesitates, but he decides to go along with it. "I'm Louis. Uh, Tomlinson."

"Tomlinson," Harry repeats. "It's very British, innit?"

"I suppose." Louis shrugs to himself. His eyes are still focused on his disgusting lunch, so he doesn't notice that Harry has moved closer until he can feel Harry's leg against his own and their elbows touching lightly. He briefly wonders what about him is so incredibly attractive to Harry.

"Why don't you have any friends?" Harry asks, bluntly and sort of loudly. Louis thinks the entire question - from his tone to his wording - sums Harry up pretty nicely.

Louis sighs, drops his fork, and turns to face Harry and his startlingly green eyes. "I do have friends. They just don't go to school here."

"What are their names?"

"Stan, Niall, Liam, and Zayn."

"Where do they go?"

"None of them live here in Donny - except for Stan - so I really don't know exactly which school they go to, but. I met them over the summer. They're great lads."

"Well, what about Stan?"

Harry asks a lot of questions. "He's a dropout." Louis continues to answer them, though, because he can't remember having a conversation this long in the past six months with anyone besides his mum. "Why don't you have any friends?"

"People think I'm weird," Harry replies, and he's smiling for some bizzare reason. Louis doesn't think being lonely is something to be happy about, but that's just him, after all. "So I'm my own best friend."