Despite Louis' original, albeit prevalent, doubts about rekindling his friendship with Harry, he must admit that all of their shared classes are a smidge more enjoyable with the air of rivalry dissipated.
It's no flip of a switch (this isn't some sort of enemies to lovers shit), but it's something.
In Victorian Literature, the two of them recently had a particularly rousing discussion on Shakespeare's The Tempest and how it relates to today's world, instead of the usual jabs exchanged between them.
Despite their conversation mainly consisting of criticism about Caliban being a dick - a healthy dose of penis jokes were sprinkled in the mix because they're immature teenagers - and how Miranda should've left the fictional island long ago to find her own path, it was still nice to talk like normal classmates.
The sudden change in behavior was also happily accepted by Ms. Swift, who passed by their table one day after their restaurant meet-up and left a bag of Maltesers in front of them to split. She even offered them a small smile and waved goodbye after class, which was strange based on the fact that all she ever does is scowl at them in disapproval.
Even ceramics has become more enjoyable, which is a nice surprise since it was one of Louis' favorite classes.
(Anatomy is the other, where Zayn has now passed out a total of... 4 times? Most recently, it was during their dissection of tabby cats. Niall couldn't help but laugh and crack the well-timed joke. "What a pussy!" he cried out between guffaws, all while Liam was trying to get Zayn to sip on a water bottle, which he's been bringing regularly for his boyfriend during dissection days.)
Back to ceramics class: Mr. Hood has recently started taking music requests from his impressive collection of vinyls, as well as accepting student sketches and ideas for his next tattoo, which has been nothing short of a blast.
Louis even paused making his newest sculptural masterpiece to draw, his cartoon-like figure of his dog sitting stagnant on the far counter. They were supposed to sculpt something that brings them joy, and Louis loves his dog, Geoffrey (lovingly named after a cake baker Louis loves from his favorite show, Ace of Cakes).
Plus, dogs are better than cats and since Harry was trying to sculpt his cat, William, it was an easy choice in subject matter. (Attempts at friendship or not, Harry must always be outdone, and Louis will make sure of it.)
Louis dedicated the last two ceramic classes to sketching out an old record player blooming with intricate flowers, with the lyrics of "Lake of Fire" by the Meat Puppets written underneath in his best attempt at 'neat handwriting'. Louis suggested he get it tattooed on his ass cheek, to which Mr. Hood rolled his eyes and smirked. "You wish," he scoffed at Louis, a humored smile on his face.
From his seat, Louis finds it quite amusing to watch the Year Nines put the slips of papers with their drawings into the empty cheese puff container Mr. Hood put out on a stool, all with nervous looks on their faces. Thomas, Juan Luis, Louis, and Harry all make bets on which drawing will win, but Louis knows his is the best, and he's confident Mr. Hood will choose it.
Harry's sketch of a heart speared with a dagger is a close second (that boy can draw), but Louis hopes to come out on top.
Juan Luis went the culinary route, drawing his favorite homemade meal that his mum always makes him back at home - chorizo y papas but made into a fancy pasta dish with a spicy red sauce and lots of cheese. Thomas opted for a striking portrait of himself with over-exaggerated muscles, slipping the paper into the box with an amused smirk.
Speaking of the foreign exchange lads, they've started to become buddy-buddy with Harry. Recently, Harry has been talking more to their tablemates in class, until even Juan Luis was laughing at Harry's terrible dad jokes. Not that Louis likes the jokes at all. They're bad quality and Louis only laughed once at one egg joke about a Yolks-wagon.
(It was a little funny, but... just a little.)
Today, exactly five days after his and Harry's little conversation, they have an extended period in ceramics. Louis loves it. He gets nearly an hour and a half to just slam clay on a table, and because he finished his dog sculpture yesterday, he gets to make some random project for his own enjoyment.
As soon as he slings his backpack off his shoulder and tosses it in the general direction of their table, he goes over to the prep counter. Grabbing the wire clay cutter before anyone takes it, he plucks it off of a hook on the wall, right above the chalkboard announcing their daily assignment.
He slices a slab off the chunk of recycled clay that's designated for personal projects, feeling the weight of it in his hands. When he gets back to the table, Thomas is already there with Juan Luis and Harry, talking one another's ears off with their bags still on their shoulders.
"And I was telling him to shut up, to not be an idiot about it, but-" Thomas wheels around, startling Louis. "Oi! Hey, Tommo. I was just talking about this dick who totally cut me off in the McDonalds line this morning. On top of that, he looked like a total idiot. He was one of your, fuck, vad är ordet? What do you call them?"
"Chavs?" Harry offers.
Thomas snaps his finger. "Yes! That. He was a git, too. Tried to take my coffee."
"How dare he," Louis abruptly slams his handful of clay on the table for emphasis, and grins when the others jump. "I've got the weekly assignment done, so I get to fuck around and make something cool today. You lads have any ideas for me?"
This was a fun game they'd come up with: Thomas has a list of numbered personal projects the group had compiled at the beginning of the semester and when he spins a wheel app on his phone, Louis (or whoever needs a new one) must do the project that coordinates with the chosen number.
There are some really stupid ones on there; a decomposing frog to gift to Zayn (if anyone ever lands on #12), an American Fantasy Football trophy, despite none of them playing in a league, and a weird-looking face they'd put in their ceramics locker right behind their table. An overlooker, as Thomas called it.
Unfortunately for himself, Louis gets a complex renaissance-style torso with the arms chopped off. "Fuck this," he grumbles. "Can we spin again?"
"Nope," Juan Luis shakes his head, "You know the rules. This is payback for when you spun for me and I had to make a naked sculpture of Thomas' mum."
"Yeah," Thomas interjects, "Who the fuck thought that was a good idea? My poor mother is nearing her sixties, and she's got a lot of wrinkles and probably some real saggy boobs. You could've picked someone young and attractive, like Halle Berry or Florence Pugh or someone."
Harry just rolls his eyes, turning to Louis. "You'll live," He says passively with a shrug, getting his own project out of his art locker. "So, has anything been going on recently with you guys? Anyone interesting?" He asks objectively, motioning at the group with one hand while carefully holding his clay cat, William, in the other.
Thomas purses his lips. "Depends."
Harry hums inquisitively, walking back to their table. The others follow. "I'm not straight, Thomas, don't worry. And I can promise you that Louis isn't either," Harry flicks a thumb in Louis' direction, and Louis tenses just a bit. Even with Louis' floppy wrists and subtle flirting with guys, Harry needs to stop coming out for him.
"So I guess what I'm saying is if it's a dude you've got the hots for, don't feel like you can't talk about it." He concludes.
Thomas doesn't even bat an eye at the statement about Louis, which makes Louis relax and take a deep breath. The smile on Thomas' face grows wide and his voice sounds dreamy. "So there's this guy..."
"What's he like?" Juan Luis asks immediately, rolling his clay into a sphere. "He is nice? Oh, and is he hot? Both are very important qualities, you know." Louis spots Harry laughing lightly at this out of the corner of his eye.
"They," Thomas is blushing now. A bright, burning red against his pale skin. This is new. "They're really amazing."
"Oh?" Harry's eyebrows rise in surprise, a friendly smile toying at his lips. "They/them pronouns?"
Thomas purses his lips. "Yeah, I think. Haven't got a chance to ask them upright, but when other people talk about them in the halls, those are the pronouns I hear most commonly."
"Tell us about 'em, Tommy." Louis tosses a small ball of clay at Thomas, which earns him a glare from Mr. Hood. "Sorry, Mr. Hood."
Mr. Hood sighs and sips his typical English Breakfast tea, relatively calm. "It's fine. Just don't throw anything bigger at him. I don't get paid enough for that." They give a thumbs up in return before returning their attention to Thomas.
"Their name is Fritz," Thomas pinches his clay into a semi-okay mushroom for the 'mushroom pixie land utopia' he decided to make last week. It's a work in progress. "They're from America."
An American. How delightful.
"They have this really pretty accent, and just everything about them is so nice, and they helped me with my anatomy homework the other day, and they're so smart, and-"
"I'm going to stop you there," Harry places a gentle hand on Thomas' shoulder. "Take a breath. You need air, kid."
"We just came from English, Tommy mommy," Juan Luis snorts, ruffling Thomas' hair with a clay-caked hand, "And that's a run-on sentence."
"Okay, okay," Thomas huffs, flustered as ever. "Should I start over?"
"Yes," they agree in unison.
"Okay, so their name is Frederick Zimmer. Goes by Fritz. They're from New Orleans, Louisiana. They can speak fluent French and they have the prettiest southern accent. Like how a flower would sound, you know? They're a daisy in human form. The petals of him are so soft."
They all nod their heads yes, despite the collective knowledge that his statement doesn't make any sense. Sometimes Thomas' Swedish sayings don't translate well into English, which causes him to sound like he's speaking in gibberish.
Louis' favorite is 'smaken är som baken-delad.' Or, in English, 'taste is like a bum-divided.' It's like Google Translate had a brain dump. Pretty damn funny, if you ask him.
"They're seventeen and their parents moved them here because of jobs. Fritz doesn't like it here, though. They want to work for the NHL."
Louis smiles. "So you just like them because they're into hockey? Do they play on the school team with you?"
"No, no, not really the athletic type. They want to be a medic for a team. And I don't like them just because they like hockey..." The corner of Thomas' mouth pulls upwards. "It's just a bonus." Louis elbows him in the side at this, emitting a giddy laugh from the other boy.
"Do you have a picture?" Harry asks, picking up Thomas' phone from the table.
Thomas wipes his hands off on his pants, before taking it from Harry and unlocking it. "Yeah. Lemme show you their Instagram."
"Please do," Louis smirks, leaning into Thomas' side to glance at his cracked phone screen. "Bring on the hot people. Preferably a shirtless picture, so we get the whole idea, y'know?" Louis asks, and Juan Luis nods in eager agreement. "Everyone loves a bit of eye candy."
As Thomas is searching up their account, Louis looks around the room to see if Mr. Hood is annoyed they paused their projects, only to find Harry practically burning a stare into him. But when Louis' stare flicks to him, annoyed, he diverts his eyes away and instead chooses to focus on some dried clay stuck to his uniform pant leg.
Thomas nudges him in the side to pull his attention away from Harry, where Fritz's Instagram is pulled up. 1,426 followers, impressive. But then, with a little gasp, Louis realizes that he had purposely bumped into Fritz by the stairs on the first day of school before Lottie tugged him away.
Fritz. Louis mulls over the name in his head. They look like a Fritz. Upon a closer inspection of their picture-perfect posts, Louis takes a liking to the way their coily hair hangs in front of their pretty, deep brown eyes. It almost looks as if Fritz is wearing eyeliner with how long their lashes are. Phoebe always complains how guys always better have lashes than girls, and looking at Fritz's picture, Louis agrees. Phoebe's poor mascara-clad lashes never stood a chance against theirs.
"Wow," Harry says exactly what Louis was thinking, letting out a low whistle. "Go, Tommy."
Thomas blushes and giggles. He fucking giggles. Who is this man?
"Yeah, well, I haven't worked up the nerve to ask them out yet. But I know they're single, so... woo!" He throws his hands in the air in triumph like a dork before pocketing his phone.
Louis shoves Thomas' shoulder with his own, grinning like a gossip girl on cocaine. "Ask 'em out. You're more than good-looking and you're sweet as can be. You could totally get with them if you ask, assuming they're interested."
"You think?" Thomas' blue eyes fill with what Louis deducts as hope.
"Positive. And don't listen to Harry," Louis lightly jabs his finger into Harry's bicep, to which Harry folds his arm and pouts. "But cheesy pickup lines are not the way to go."
"I never said they were," Harry protests, brow furrowing.
"You strike me as the type to use them whenever you want a shag," Louis counters, scoffing at the grumpy boy. He puts on a fake voice and imitates Harry's pickup lines. "Hey, do you like mushrooms? Because I think you're a fungi and would love to have some fun together." Harry's face looks horrified, and Louis cackles.
Juan Luis cuts them off, trying to hide a smile. "Tommy, it's pretty obvious you have a huge crush on this person, so I say go for it. What do you have to lose?"
Thomas sucks in a breath, nodding to himself. "Nothing, I suppose. So yeah, I'll try. But like, that shit is scary."
"Aw, c'mon lad," Harry claps him on the back, "There's no time like the present. Text them or ask them in person if you're feeling ballsy."
"Text, definitely text," he mumbles, pulling out his phone once more. "If I asked them out in person I'd make a right fool of myself."
He excuses himself from his friend's prying stares and starts typing on his phone screen, fingers flying. Louis isn't a snoop in the least, but Thomas is leaning over the table to the point where his back looks like it is going to break, so Louis takes the liberty to look over his shoulder and check what he's typing. And, of course, with it being Thomas, he's asking Fritz out right now, over Instagram DM's. How romantic.
Louis taps Thomas' head with his finger. "Hey, I told you not to listen to Harry. No asking out over text. You have to be there, in person. This is a big moment for you!"
Thomas startles and sits back up, taking in a shaky breath and running his fingers through his hair in distress. "If this goes shit, I'm blaming you, Tommo. The fate of my love life rests in your romantic advice." He warns. But Louis just smiles and flicks a bit of clay in his direction.
"Faith in the future, my love."
**
It's Friday, and Louis is ready to welcome the weekend with open arms. Lottie just started dating someone and he's been over at their house every single day, the two of them clinging to one another like bloody octopuses.
The twins have found utmost enjoyment in harassing Lottie and the unknown boy, trying their hardest to embarrass Lottie in front of him with old pictures and funny stories. As much as it's all in good fun, Louis is exhausted from them begging him to send them the worst pictures of Lottie he has on his phone, including the one he snapped when she laughed so hard, chocolate milk dribbled out her nose.
Fizzy's been in her own little world, spending practically all of her time swaddled up in a blanket in their small home library. Louis can't remember the last time he's seen her without a book laying open in her lap, a messy bun perched atop her head as she reads for hours.
Geoffrey is often balled up at her feet, sleeping as an old classical record plays softly in the background.
Likewise, his mum's been hard at work, locked away in the office with stacks of files and documents cluttering her desk. Every few hours she comes downstairs to make some tea and check in on everyone, but she's swamped with work.
His dad is working at the hospital for what feels like days at a time, but he has a day or two off next weekend, which everyone plans to dedicate to some long overdue family time.
With everything going on, Louis needed an escape. In response, Zayn asked if Louis would care to drive up to Doncaster, Louis' hometown, and revisit all of Louis' favorite places with him. Louis hasn't been there in ages, and he misses the town dearly. So yeah, of course, he said yes.
He wants to show Zayn some of his favorite restaurants, this one mom-and-pop bakery with the best scones around, and his old house, complete with the mismatched red and blue shutters and wobbly mailbox. This weekend is going to be amazing, and Louis can't wait.
Speaking of friends, all five of them went out for lunch today at a local diner, which was a nice change of pace from Louis' normal lunches. A boy can only eat so many bologna and cheese sandwiches on squishy white bread.
He ordered a simple burger and fries and split a chocolate milkshake with Liam. When the food came out, Harry tried to steal one of Louis' fries when he thought Louis wasn't looking (Louis promptly swatted his hand away), but it turned out to be a planned diversion so Niall could steal a whole handful of fries. Other than that, lunch went swimmingly well.
They talked and laughed, recalling Zayn's funniest moments in anatomy, which mainly consisted of Zayn passing out, and the one time he was shaking like an earthquake when they made him help in the dissection of a toad.
In addition, they tried to get Niall to reveal the girl he has a crush on because he's got heart eyes for someone and they don't know who. The boys weren't successful, but Niall will surely crack soon. He's not good at keeping secrets like this for long.
Louis only has two classes left in the day - anatomy and ceramics - before he gets to skip his free block and leave school early, which he often does on Fridays. It's raining bullets outside and his football coach canceled practice, so there's no reason for him to stay for seventh block.
They're not currently doing dissections in anatomy, and the classwork is easy. Liam and Louis team up to review the different parts of a human, giggling when they get to the testes and glutes. Zayn even smuggled junk food in his backpack, which he passed around to the others to munch on while they filled out their worksheets. That is, before they almost got caught in the second half of class.
"Boys, what are you doing back there?" their teacher, Mr. Turner asked, squinting through his thin-frame glasses to the back of the room.
Zayn pushed Niall's arm down quickly to conceal the bag of pretzels in his hand behind the lab desk, a calm expression blanketing his face immediately. "Nothing, sir," he smiled in assurance. "We're working diligently on our assignments."
A stray half-eaten sugar cookie was out on the table in front of Louis, but thankfully Harry spotted it and gracefully removed it from the tabletop with a sweep of his hand.
Their professor cocked his eyebrow and stared for a moment later before shrugging and going back to doing paperwork at his desk. Louis breathed out a sigh of relief and quietly chewed the remainder of the chips in his mouth.
When Mr. Turner dismisses the class, the boys all say their goodbyes in the form of friendly smiles and punches to the arm before parting ways. Ceramics flies by, with Doncaster on the mind, and all Louis wants to do is get out of school so he and Zayn can get a head start on their weekend vacation.
So when the bell rings for seventh block, Louis already has his backpack on, his Vans tapping impatiently on the tile floor of the art room. "Have a good weekend, Mr. Hood!" he calls out over his shoulder as he escapes through the rainbow-painted door frame.
He barely takes five steps to his left before a sure hand firmly grips his wrist, holding him back. Louis turns around abruptly, about to ask Juan Luis what he forgot in the classroom this time (probably his folder or school laptop) when he looks up.
Harry.
"Hello?" Louis asks, confused at the confrontation as his eyes flick down to Harry's hand still holding tight around Louis' wrist, and back up to the boy's anxious gaze. The edges of the crisp black tattoos on his wrist peek out just barely from beneath his dress shirt. "Erm, is everything okay?"
Harry tilts his head to the side as if you say no. When he realizes he's still holding onto Louis, he drops his hand promptly and points to a nearby empty classroom, his pink lips pursed and his dimples popping in his cheeks. Louis takes the hint and they both silently walk inside, closing the door behind them to block out all of the noise in the hallway.
"C'mon, Harry, I was just about to head home. What is it?" Louis raises an eyebrow impatiently, his hip jutting out to the side as he stands with a hand on his hip. A few seconds pass as he continues to await an answer, or even an explanation as to why they're all alone, standing in an empty science lab.
Harry coughs awkwardly, his stance looking tense and uncomfortable. He tries clearing his throat twice before speaking. "I need you to do a favor for me."
"If you're going to ask me to do something gross, like feed you pickles and lick up the juices or some shit, I'm not doing it."
"Why would I ask you to feed me-? Actually, never mind. No, it doesn't involve pickles. I don't even like pickles. Listen, Louis, this is serious." Harry's hands wrap around his own torso in comfort, clearly not enthused about the way that this conversation is going.
"Alright, then get on with it." Louis tries to keep the annoyance out of his voice because Zayn's waiting for him at his car, but it's not every day Harry asks to speak with him one-on-one. Something's up.
"I need to go to the hospital," Harry says grimly, the corner of his mouth tugged downwards into a frown.
Louis blinks, not really sure how to respond. "Why do you need me for that? Are you okay?"
He ignores the second question entirely, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "I- I need someone over 18 to come with me," Harry mumbles, eyes firmly on the ground.
"Why not get your mum to go with you? I'm sure she'd love nothing more than to accompany her little Hazza," Louis snorts.
Harry flinches but recovers quickly. "Please? I just need this one favor and then we can go back to hating each other."
Louis takes a long moment to look at the other boy. "Fine," he says finally. "But just for the record, I know you don't hate me. You said so yourself."
Louis refrains from rolling his eyes, walking past Harry to open the door so they can exit the classroom. "And clearly, I must not hate you either if I'm postponing my plans with my beloved Zayn to drive you to the hospital for whatever you won't tell me about." He pauses, listening to Harry's quiet footsteps behind him as they reach the main doors.
"But really," Louis turns around, and Harry almost walks right into him. "Are you okay?" he asks one final time, and Harry just shrugs.
"Please, can we just go?" His voice is weak, and Louis frowns.
"Okay, yeah... Yeah, let's just go," Louis agrees, looking back at Curly one last time before they push open the main doors of the school.
He pretends not to notice the way Harry's eyes stare blankly ahead as they speed walk to Louis' car, his hands hanging loosely at his side and his curls stopping just before they obscure Harry's field of vision as they get drenched in the rain.
Harry's been growing his hair out lately. Louis noticed the other day when Harry managed to pull it up into a tiny half-ponytail during ceramics. It looks nice.
But Louis doesn't comment on any of this and forces himself not to dwell on the silent tears that pool in Harry's eyes as he sits down in the passenger's seat. Two minutes later, they're driving to the hospital with thousands of unspoken words between them.
***
and so the prompt is finally introduced - what next??
Thoughts or comments (or predictions)?
VOTE if you hope Harry is okay!