Sight
He waits for the bell to go, leaning back against a pillar in the hall, which he seems to shrink into whenever someone walks by too close.
He lets his eyes wonder around distractedly, but whips his head around at the sound of the familiar laughter, eyes focusing on the dark brown hair and wide smile.
The boy is walking with his friends, and Louis instinctively knows that he's not the only one watching, because everybody is always watching him, eager eyes greedily watching the boy even when he so much breathes.
Louis wonders if they see the same things he does, the way he's polite and friendly and always willing to help, how guilty he feels whenever he has to let a girl down easily, brows furrowing and lips pursing when he sees the disappointment in their eyes, how he's actually slightly clumsy whenever he's anywhere but the football field, how that lazy look he wears sometimes doesn't mean he's tired, but just content.
His eyes linger on his back as they walk away, and he sees the way Harry stops, hesitating before looking around. Louis melts back into his wall of comfort and he watches as Harry looks over him, not noticing the hiding boy before turning back to his friends and walking out.
Louis feels that familiar sensation wash over him: relief and disappointment swirling together low in his stomach, causing his shoulders to slump with some form of invisible burden. He understands of course, that Harry, just like everybody else, doesn't see him, and that's okay, kinda. Louis never expected anyone to notice him, so it wasn't a surprise when they didn't, he'd stopped feeling upset about it years ago. It's just a bit different with Harry, because he can make Louis feel things twice as strongly, he wants so much to be noticed, to be seen by Harry...In fact he wants it just about the same amount as he dreads that miracle ever happening.
Unlike Harry however Louis sees him, sometimes it's like he's all he ever sees. It's not like he's a stalker or anything it's something a bit more subtle; he'd just happen to look up every time Harry entered a room or walked past him. His eyes would just instinctively find him (even if Louis wasn't looking for him). It had been like that for years now, and today was no different.
"You're not very subtle you know" Zayn tells him, later that day.
They've stopped by Zayn's locker so he can get his books, and Louis looks up at him startled.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, you're not very subtle when you're staring" Zayn wiggles his eyebrows at him jokingly, but Louis only shrugs, "it doesn't really matter does it? It's not like he even knows I exist."
"And who's fault is that?" Zayn asks shutting his locker.
"Universe's" Louis says flatly as they start walking towards their class. They have English this morning, thankfully. Some times Louis wishes that was the only lesson he had to go to. He likes English, and he likes reading and he likes analysing and he could go hours doing just that.
"No it isn't, you've liked him for years, you could just go and talk to him you know, it's not forbidden or anything." Zayn says, bringing Louis' attention back to him.
Louis rolls his eyes, "I know that"
"Then why don't you?"
"You know why" Louis says quietly ignoring the sad look Zayn's giving him.
"You can't hide from everyone forever" Louis ignores that too, moving around the still empty classroom to get to his seat right at the far corner of the room.
That wasn't necessarily true either, Louis thought, it's not like he had been hiding exactly, he just...hadn't made himself noticed. It came all too easy for him, staying in the shadows, and most of the time, he liked it there better, was more comfortable without people's attention on him. So what if there were those short moments where Louis fantasised about being noticed by Harry? He'd just shake his head at himself at the ridiculous notion because even if he did notice Louis, he probably wouldn't like him, and Louis would just end up embarrassing himself. Being invisible was better than being embarrassed any day.
Or so he told himself.
Classes go by slowly, English being the only lesson he shares with Zayn as well as Harry, who sits at the front surrounded by his hundred (or so it seems to Louis) of friends. It's just one of the amazing things about Harry, everybody wants to be his friend, and Harry, Louis thinks, is kind of determined to befriend everybody in the school before his time in it is over. He's even kind of friends with Zayn. Zayn, of all people.
English is the only class he has really any interest in, the only class where he wishes he could express his opinions. He has so many thoughts running around his head just waiting to be voiced, and his class mates are all involved in a lively debate and he's sure nobody would even give him a second look were he to say anything.
But.
The thought of speaking up, the mere thought of it makes his heartbeat speed up, his gut filled with this weird, cold, on-the-brink-of-something feeling, and he can feel his face warming up and his hands shake and he's just glad he's sitting down because he doesn't think his legs would be able to support him. And then the discussion is over, and he's missed his chance again, and though his heart rate goes back to normal, a bitter, disappointed, unaccomplished feeling is left to take the place of the anxiety he was feeling before.
It happens every lesson, Louis thinks he should be used to it by now.
He waits in the Hall for Zayn at lunch, standing awkwardly to the sides of the queue, he's in year 12, but sixth formers don't have a common room in this school because a couple of years ago some of the students 'abused the common room which was a privilege given to them by the school', so the year after, it became a sort of ICT room.
Most people going into year 12 were angry about the situation and there were a lot of complaining and whining, but the school's head teacher didn't change her mind. The lack of common room thing didn't exactly bother Louis, it was a lot easier to be anonymous when there were more people around. Plus, you can't exactly miss something you've never had.
Looking up, he searches for Zayn, eyes falling onto a curly haired boy instead.
Harry.
The small smile that grows on the corner of his lips is instinctive, thoughtless, it's hard for Louis to not smile whenever he sees Harry.
"You're a being creepy again"
Zayn's familiar voice snaps him out of his Harry induced day-dream.
"I'm not creepy" Louis weakly protests, "he doesn't even know I'm looking"
"That...still counts as creepy. Sorry Lou" he teases, smiling.
"Shall we get going then?" Louis nods, and they head out, after getting their food, to that corridor in between the English and Art departments that is on the first floor and is always empty.
They sit on the windowsill, leaning back on the wall opposite to each other, Zayn tells him about this art project he's working on. Louis doesn't understand half of what he's saying, can't really picture whatever it is that Zayn's trying to describe, but he smiles anyway, because Zayn sounds excited, and Louis already knows that whatever Zayn's doing - making, it'll be great, it always is, though Zayn is often quite hard on himself.
"Have you noticed" Zayn starts a few minutes of silence later, "how much worse this school's food is getting by the day?" Louis grins humorously, nodding in agreement.
"And we still have a year and a half to go" Louis says watching as Zayn grimaces in response.
"Thanks for that mate. Really"
"Oh yeah, no problem" Louis says, smiling mischievously at Zayn, who only shakes his head at Louis.
They have a free lesson after break, but they don't move from their place. Instead Zayn takes out his sketchbook, and Louis opens up the new book he's reading. The hour goes by quickly like this, and sooner then Louis expected, the bell is ringing. Louis sighs, looking at his book sadly, so close to being finished he's sure he won't hear a thing in his next lesson, too busy wondering about how the ending will go.
He looks around the once empty corridor, his eyes catching a flash of curly hair, and mouth stretched wide, teeth showing, before it's gone, hidden by a wall of students.
Football is not exactly Louis' thing. He likes watching it well enough, but it's never something he'd ever consider doing. Zayn is no more interested in it than Louis, but they mutually and silently agreed over a year ago to attend the games. Though they don't talk about it they know that the only reason why they go at all, is for Louis to watch Harry playing, and Zayn to watch Perrie, the blonde cheerleader he's liked for ages. Louis wonders whether Zayn knows how much of a hypocrite he is, when he keeps telling Louis to 'just go and talk to Harry'.
They both take their seats, the place is reasonably full. It always surprises Louis that people even go to this events at all, it's not like people are bursting with school pride and team spirit or whatever, not in their school at least. Louis is absolutely sure that the only reason why there are so many people from his school here is Harry. It's not a farfetched theory at all, considering the reason he's here.
Safe in the anonymity of numbers, he indulges himself by observing Harry, as he warms up by the sidelines with his team. He doesn't cheer with the rest as the game starts, but he watches attentively, eyes taking in the little furrow in Harry's forehead as he concentrates. He tries to keep up with the other players and with what is going on in the game, but his eyes keep stubbornly going back to Harry, finding him surprisingly easily in the middle of so many players.
From what little Louis can tell is going on, he gathers that the other team is not a very good one, because they are having a hard time keeping the ball, whilst his school classmates barely look winded, so it's not really a surprise when they win.
Louis and Zayn loiter around, watching as everyone around them celebrate, though Louis eye's are very much glued to the boy being hugged and squished by his team mates, hair sweaty and stuck to his forehead and smile so wide that Louis swears he can see his dimples from here. He wonders if he could ever be the reason for Harry to smile like that, to look so happy... A second later he shakes his head at himself, chiding, and lets himself be pulled by Zayn as they bump-and-dodge into a dozen other hyper teenagers.
If his eyes go back to Harry one last time, no one will ever know.