Louis' new attempt at a hobby isn't much. Just a tiny little Facebook advert for a group on campus revolving around LGBTQIA+ individuals and the allies supporting them. Some anti-bullying emphasis infused in there as well (no, that's not a mental stick-'em at his stepbrother either). There's probably not much to the entire premise other than to maybe make a friend or two with common interests and experiences. But that's a lot better than anything he's been doing for a long time. Louis needs the push. And a friend, honestly.
So, he drags along Jack, because he's expressed queer-interest (whether anybody knows his true sexuality or not). Plus, Louis insisted over and over that he didn't want to go alone, which gets him just about anything. The boy was not all that thrilled to give in to Louis' weaponized puppy dog eyes.
Somehow they make good time still with Jack dragging his feet like it's his job to slow Louis down, and approach the student services building with mittened hands in pockets and soft, uneasy breaths.
"What do you even do at these things?" His roommate complains, pulling his jacket across his body like a sulking child. Cheeks and nose red, mouth twisted like he's tasting a bitter lime.
Louis huffs and hooks an arm into his, leading him forward. "Have a better attitude," he scolds. "You don't know if you'll like it until you try it."
"True. But if I find that I hate it, then I have an excuse to not show up to the rest."
Louis smacks at his chest.
They enter a small room that reminds Louis of an elementary classroom or a church meeting room. There are chairs set up in a circle on top of a shag rug, facing each other in a setting that's likely meant to vulnerable and intimate. Bright green paint colors the walls, decorated with tiny paint-stroked images of years past. Former members of the club leaving behind their marks and encouragement for the next generation. The entirety of the group seems to already be present, chattering animatedly. One girl enthusiastically shows off a belly-button piercing to her neighbor, paying no mind to the other people standing around.
It immediately strikes Louis as a flock of extroverted and comfortable individuals, which has him relaxing a bit. Good. Him and his quiet, awkward ass can just go ahead and take the back seat. Louis can roll with that.
Jack immediately groans, but takes a spot next to an enthusiastic, bouncing Louis.
He thinks about Harry sitting in the chair next to him, having followed him into the building intentionally, and he nearly makes the decision there to bring Harry to the next one. But he shudders and crosses the arms of his sweater, not entirely sure if Harry and he are even on the right page right now. Is Harry even comfortable with his sexuality? Lately it hasn't felt like it.
Louis wants to reach out. He really does. But he doesn't want to when all this will lead to is probably more regretful words. If Harry isn't comfortable with himself, then Louis doesn't know how a conversation is going to fix anything. Being able to categorize Harry as a former bully exacerbates the entire situation, because there's no way that Harry does feel that self-security if he's lashing out at other people. It could have happened several years ago, but that doesn't erase the fact that he did it in the first place. Who's to say Harry's changed? Harry? Well, Louis supposes he could maybe ask Liam, but how well does he really know Harry if they've only been a band for a short while? Liam looked just as shocked by the news as Louis was.
A quarter into the hour-long session, he makes eye contact with a figure across the circle, and his heart stops.
He's in a state of nonchalance, his ankle resting on the knee of his other leg, and his arm leaning against the back of the chair. The boy raises one thick eyebrow in question, undoubtedly pointed towards Louis. And well. This is awkward.
Louis frowns, feeling a blush start to rises up underneath his skin.
Great. More bullies.
+++++
Louis had thought that his surprise would wane through the rest of the hour, as people conversed and told stories and invited Louis to include himself into the discussion openly. But at one in the afternoon, when everyone seems to fall into an understanding, natural silence meant to end the meeting, Louis is still staring at the white sneakers perched on the rug in front of his chair.
It's hard to ignore too, as Connor becomes the spotlight of conversation for an entire eight minutes as well, when he openly (almost aggressively) shares his position. The unspoken, unasked, question of why he's even here in the first place.
Turns out his sister came out as pansexual to their family last year, and he's been trying to improve. For her. It's a bit of a heroic share, as much as Louis doesn't like to admit it. He can't say he disapproves of his actions to learn about other people and understand them. "My sister is literally the greatest person I've ever met. If she loves someone other than a man, then I just don't think I could ever hate her for that, even if I tried. I love her. We took care of each other, you know. Dad was a deadbeat. Mum was in and out of prison for a bit, and when she was there, she didn't spend a lot of time with us."
"I'm actually...an ally for the queer community on campus now," he scratches his neck. "I won't say I've done a full 180, because that just wouldn't be true, but I, uh - I'm working on it."
Louis hates how innocent and sweet he sounds.
Of all the places he could run into Connor Schmidt. Of all the places he wants to run into him. Gay therapy hadn't been the first thought, nor his first desire.
But it's not exactly like Louis can take back the fact that he's already been snuffed at and inevitably stared at for an hour. If he wasn't able to recognize Louis after all that time, then Louis doesn't even know why he bothers to tutor him at all, because there's no way he could recognize chemistry patterns if he can't even notice Louis after bullying him for years. And he's foolish for hoping for that outcome anyway.
Jack leaves the meeting first, grumbling about having had to piss since the meeting began, and seemingly goes off to do exactly that. Leaving Louis very alone and very suspicious.
His eyes lock on Connor's again, narrow, before he makes the decision to walk over to him.
"Could we have that talk today? I think we should have that talk today."
Connor, seeming to realize that he's caught in unfamiliar territory, just nods slowly. "Yeah. Alright, Tomlinson."
Louis looks, seeks out Jack as he often had through the meeting, but he is cruelly reminded of the fact that his roommate is no longer by his side. Okay. So, it's just Louis. Louis and Connor.
"Not to be, like - mean, or anything. But, uh, how are you here? Like, why are you here in London? You told everybody in secondary that you got a big footie scholarship. Why are you suddenly LGBTQ adjacent and turning everything on its head? Why are you doing this to me?"
He sighs. "No, are you thick?" But the insult dies on his tongue. "No, I never got a stupid football scholarship. I lied."
"...Why did you lie?"
"Because that's what I fucking wanted, but it's not what I got. Isn't that why people lie about that shit? I lied because I was embarrassed, and I wanted people to be jealous of me, and I wanted to think that I was good enough. For fuck's sake, Louis - you were the best player on the team, and even you didn't get a scholarship. How did you think I did?"
Louis contemplates this response. "But you got into London?"
"Fuck you," the broader huffs. "I'm smart."
A few meandering students shoot them curious looks, eyes intelligent and seeming to be able to smell the increasing tension. The lingering tinges of homophobia crackling in their interaction. Louis doesn't want to bring this shit into a safe environment like this. He instantly feels bad for doing so.
"Excuse me for not thinking that the way you treated me was in the hopes you were intelligent and instead were some neanderthal jock who pushed people around because he felt inferior."
The boy closes his eyes for a brief moment and inhales. "I did feel inferior." His eyes flutter back open only to crease again in worry. "But it wasn't for what I always told myself it was for. It's such a long story. A stupid one. I don't think our tutoring session is long enough to explain that one."
"Give me a quick summary?"
He doesn't respond.
"Come on, you owe me that much," Louis bargains seriously.
His gray eyes slink back over to Louis and roll lightly. "Toxic masculinity," he offers curtly, motioning to the room behind him as if that explains all the other missing gaps. It kind of does, to be fair.
"Ah. So I wasn't very far off."
"I - my dad, he was a hardass. I think I was just taught the wrong things, is all." He shakes his pen and doodles despairingly on his jean ankle as if all the ink's bled out. "It's fine. I've changed my mind. I . . . I need to change my mind. That's why I'm here." He twists the cap of his pen around, no longer looking at Louis. "The way he treated her - it didn't feel fair." His last words drop in volume.
"It's not fair," Louis sympathizes, shoulders drooping and his insides cramping.
"I had this idea that being gay was a choice for so long. That's what my dad would always scream, whenever he saw a couple, or whatever. I had no other reason to believe it wasn't. And I laughed, when my sister said she was pan." A tongue wets his chapped lips. "But she was serious. And - well, I love my sister. It was hard to understand."
Louis scoffs. "Yeah? Well, gayness isn't actually contagious, despite how you seemed to feel about it in high school."
"Kept me from holding too many guys' hands and sorting out the jock straps. Can't complain too much about that."
Louis smirks and grabs his hand, clasping it. Connor's look could have melted lava, but he doesn't pull his hand away, jaw skewed. There's a part of him that Louis can see is desperately trying to push for change. And it's prominent in the way he allows Louis the stupid indulgence for a second. "No one likes to sort out jock straps, gay or not."
"I hate this. This is dumb. You're just trying to annoy me now. You're making me hate it even more." The ramblings of someone who is uncomfortable. Louis chooses to believe it's a good uncomfortable, but he keeps his grip loose just in case he needs to pull back.
"Have you gone gay?" he teases. "The hand-holding?"
Connor snuffs. "Alright, alright, you've made your points."
"Because I think Harry would get jealous of me spending so much time with another guy."
A tiny chuckle leaves his lips, stifled just as quick as it emerges, and then his hand retreats back to his lap. "Thought you broke up," he counters just for the sake of argument.
"Hm. Yeah. Kind of, I guess."
"Can't be jealous of someone who's not yours."
"Have you met my stepbrother?"
"Whatever. The stepbrother thing is kind of weird anyway," he waves off, circling a word and passing it off to Louis to breakdown for him. "I'd just find someone who can actually say 'I love you' back."
Louis changes the subject quickly, hiding his wince. "Remember when you came over after the finals and you told me that you had always respected me. Did you mean that?"
"Fuck, I -" His hands card through his hair and then down to the scruff growing along his chin. "I don't know what I was thinking when I said that. I honestly don't. I did, yeah. I do admire you. What possessed me to come up to you and say those words to you after a win like that - I don't know. I think I always knew what I was doing, deep down, was wrong. And you handed us that win. I can't deny that. I think I just needed to say something before I never got the chance again."
"Is that when you had the change of heart?"
"No, it was when my sister came out. But that was after." Connor looks uncomfortably uneasy. "I think - for a second - I forgot that I was supposed to hate you."
Louis' eyes search his. "Caught up in the moment and all that?" he offers lightly as a possible explanation.
"Yeah," Connor sweeps his gaze away again. "Maybe."
"Harry wasn't who I thought he was."
"No?" The former bully seems shocked.
"He's like you. He hurt people who didn't deserve it. I don't - I genuinely don't know what to do. I want to be angry. But how can I be angry about something that happened, like, four years ago? Something that didn't even happen to me?"
"He hurts people?" Connor repeats slowly. "Like, he bullied people?"
"The way he made it sound - it was a two-way street, and he acted out for being spit on and shit like that. But, like . . . it doesn't make it okay. I know firsthand how physical bullying can affect people. I can't . . . I can't date him and love him when, in my head, I can't even -" his eyes land on the boy sitting across from him. "When I can't even fully forgive you for what you did to me."
Connor remains silent.
"It feels like a betrayal to myself. To people like me. People like me don't end up with the bully. Or...shouldn't."
"Are you really mad at Harry, or are you mad at me?"
"Well, I mean, obviously...Harry never directly hurt me. So, I can't be mad at him for that. But - just because he didn't do it to me doesn't I can tell him it's okay."
The taller boy nods shortly. "It's not on you to forgive him. That's up to whoever he hurt. Like . . ." he treads more lightly, "Between you and I. In the mean time, I think you should focus on hating my guts. I'm your monster, not him." Connor sounds surprisingly sincere, taking in a deep breath, and pushing up from the small plastic chair. Finally, he comes to his original height, a head above Louis. His eyes slide not so subtly towards the clock hanging on the wall.
Louis lets him, takes a small step backwards.
"I don't think you're really that mad about that, anyway."
"You're right," Louis dips his chin, his nose scrunching. Those words taste like vinegar. "That's not really the issue."
Rather than take the invitation Louis had so graciously offered him to run away from any further questioning, the boy sighs softly then offers a direct stare. More direct than anything he's offered him this entire semester, and this semester is quickly coming to a grating stop. The polyester on his jacket rustles as he drapes his bag languidly across his shoulder. "You want to talk about it?" he prompts. His posture is hunched in acceptance.
Louis nods eagerly, already thumbing the edges of his phone in his pocket in preparation to apologize to Jack for dipping out on him. "Lead the way."
Connor offers him the barest of smiles. A smile, nonetheless. "I hope you like tea."
"I love it."
"Hm. Maybe we'll get along after all, Tomlinson."