A/N: Exactly (okay, a little bit over) 2,000 words of I don't even know what. Massive thank you to the readers of this book who have granted me with over 51,000 reads and 1,770 votes. Also, a thank you to my 500 followers who put up with my crap in their feed. I love you all, my little lovelies.
The feeling of being watched taunted Louis endlessly as he walked through the crowded halls of Greenwood Academy, alone. He kept looking over his shoulder but no one was even paying any mind to him, everyone was greeting one another or pushing and shoving to attempt to get to their first hour on time. It was rather disappointing that he and Harry did not have the first two periods of classes together, but he perked up when reading Harry’s timetable the night before at the diner, seeing that they had two study periods together, then Physcology and also lunch. Their lockers were on completely different floors, which also disappointed the both of them, but they did not dwell on it too much, because Harry will be driving them to school every morning (and they will be spending around 10 minutes canoodling in the car).
Louis’ blue eyes scanned each number on each and every locker, mumbling the number under his breath so he would not forget it. Finally, he reached towards the end of the hall, right next to a janitor’s closet, and found the number he had been looking for. A triumphant grin and one mental pat on the back later, Louis starts on his pre-put combination. It takes him a few tries, since he has never been good at lock combinations- but could anyone really blame him? Left 23, turn the dial twice to get to 9, back to the left to 12- but he eventually gets it open and, once more, another mental pack on the back.
It isn’t until Louis reaches his first hour, English Literature, that he meets eyes with those piercing brown ones, which are as utterly shocked as his own. Louis shuffles his feet on the glossy tiled floor, ignoring those pair of brown eyes which are, without a doubt, burning holes through his skin as he walks past. It gets suddenly quiet throughout the classroom, because the first day of school and knowing that two rivals are within feet of each other, well, lets just say that just about everyone is a sucker for a bit of drama to spice up their morning. Sometimes seeing old friends is just not enough.
“Thought you would have dropped out by now, Tomlinson.” And the voice that used to haunt Louis’ dreams is back, and just a few feet away from him, and he curses the high heavens because fuck, why him?
“Thought you would have dropped out whenever your girlfriend did, Gastlo. You know, whenever you knocked her up?” Louis knew. Everyone knew. It was not a big surprise that at the end of the year, before the students went on summer holiday, Mikey had gotten his girlfriend his pregnant and he just left her like it was absolutely nothing. She had been a sweet girl, she deserved anything but that douchebag of a boyfriend, and ended up dropping out because she decided that yes, she was going to keep the baby and no, she was not going to abort the life that was growing inside of her.
“Oh fu-” Mikey had started but the teacher gave him a wild glare from her desk where she sat, and he shut his mouth instantly. It made Louis grin smugly as he took a seat closest to the window, laying his binder down on the top of the desk all while letting out a quiet sigh. He would have to deal with Mikey for the rest of the year, in this classroom, and possibly outside of it. He would also have to walk into school every morning, stomach knotting up uncomfortably while knowing that he has to start off his morning being in the same vicinity as him.
English Literature went quite smoothly, as did the two class periods after that. He and Harry got a bit cozy in the library during their first study period of the day, sitting by each other in hard wooden chairs and playfully knocking knees every few minutes. The librarian shushed them a few times, causing Louis to stifle his- very manly- giggles into Harry’s shoulder, which he did so with a bit of difficulty, considering that Harry was still taller than him even when sitting. It came time for lunch, and as they took a seat at a table with Zayn- and the rest of the table filled with strangers they did not even know- Louis stopped with his tray in mid-air while catching those brown eyes from across the cafeteria.
“Are you not going to sit?” Harry asked, looking up from his sitting position on a chair, to Louis who was standing, frozen in place. Louis’ throat felt suddenly tight and his mouth felt dry, lips opening and closing like a fish because his mind went jumbled whenever seeing the built up, putrid hate in Mikey’s eyes. He couldn’t form a coherent sentence, just nodded numbly and set his tray on the table, taking a seat right beside Harry with hesitance.
Harry could tell that something with Louis was off, he just could not tell what, so he decided to not press on the issue. Instead, he leaned over and brushed his plump, pink lips across Louis’ cheeks and splayed his fingers, resting his rather large hand on the middle of Louis’ back. They ate in almost total silence, with the occasional small talk, and Harry’s knuckles ended up kneading gently into Louis’ shoulders, knotting out some of the tension that had built up in them.
~*~
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
Louis breathed out a puff of hot air and crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back against the headboard of Harry’s bed and shaking his head stubbornly. “Haz, it doesn’t even matter, alright? Please, just drop it.”
“I cannot ‘just drop it’ whenever my boyfriend shows up at my doorstep with a bruised eye and cut cheek. So just tell me what happened, or even more so, who did it. Don't even think about giving me the bullshit excuse of you tripping and falling again.” Harry paced around his bedroom, hands stuffed in his pockets as he huffed and puffed, eyebrows facing downward as the frustration clearly showed on his face.
Not even thirty minutes ago, Louis had came into an encounter with Mikey (that, as you can probably guess, was not a walk in a field of roses), who then proceeded to ball his hand into a fist and take two punches at Louis. The second one produced a cut a few inches in length on his right cheek, from Mikey’s oh-so-lovely ring that just happened to have small metal spikes protruding from it. Louis had grumbled a string of curse words and then continued on his walk towards Harry’s house, dreading what he knew was coming; an inquiry from Harry. There was no hiding his bruising eye, or the cut that now had its blood dried up with only spectacles seeping out unnoticeably.
And a minute after Louis had knocked on the white painted wood and Harry dragged him inside with a slam of the front door, the prodding questions at Louis had started and Harry went rambling on and on about how he needs to know who did it so he could beat the absolute shit out of that person, all while getting some antibiotic for the cut and ice cubes in a plastic bag- normally used for sandwiches- with a hand-towel wrapped around it. Louis mumbled excuses, saying that he had tripped and fell and constantly was saying it was no big deal, until Harry looked like he was going to murder the next person he sees (aside from Louis) so he then kept quiet.
“Calm down, dear. Have you taken your anxiety pills yet today?” He knew how Harry’s anxiety could turn three different ways; into anger, sadness, or resulting in him having a panic attack--which Louis had experienced happen once back, months ago, and it was absolutely horrible to see the scene because there wasn’t much he could even do about it. (See: Chapter 12)
“I hate those pills, they make me feel drowsy and they make my stomach hurt sometimes and I don’t like taking medicine on a daily basis. It sucks ass, Louis. But don’t try and change the subject on me now.”
Louis sighed heavily, shifting the bag of wrapped-up ice on his cheek with a grimace, while making his way out to the hallway and into the bathroom. He opened up the medicine cabinet and spotted the bottle of prescription pills on the second shelf, beside a red inhaler. “You’re going to need to get refilled in a few days, babe.” He said while walking back into Harry’s bedroom, holding the orange bottle that contained four pills and a prescription sticker that read off his name, the expiration date, and the name of the pill--Alprazolam (Xanax).
With a bit of coaxing, Harry took one of his pills with a room-temperature bottled water that sat on his desk, and then settled down onto the edge of his bed, opening out his arms for the still standing Louis. Louis shuffled his feet and stood in front of Harry, who spread his thighs to let Louis step in between them, to which he obliged. He rest his head in the mop of dark curls and smiled softly when feeling those comforting arms snaking their way around his waist and holding him in place.
“I just hate whenever you get hurt, baby.” Harry murmured quietly into the silence of the room, nuzzling his nose into Louis’ torso which made the other boy squirm because, well, he’s ticklish all over. “Please, can you just tell me who did it? I can’t promise you that I won’t beat the shit out of them, though, just a forewarning.
It made Louis’ heart ooze out so much love for the curly haired boy like the gooey chocolate chips in cookies that had just been taken out of the oven. He sometimes grumbles and protests to Harry’s protective nature towards him, but he finds it father sweet, honestly. Harry was his lifeline, his whole entire world, the sand to his beach and the straw to his berry. He feels cliche, with the things he compares Harry to or the way he describes him, but it’s all true and Louis would not change that for the world. Like he had told Anne once--they both have baggage, and it was whether or not they both would claim each other’s. And they did, almost instantaneously, which still has not changed after all of those months.
So, Louis let his arms drape around Harry’s neck until linking his fingers together in the back, and rest his chin atop Harry’s head. “It was Mikey.”
Louis felt Harry’s arms tense around him, but then they loosened and he tugged Louis forward, urging him to sit on his lap. He shifted away just a bit for Harry to bring his own legs closer together, and then he draped his legs across Harry’s thighs and straddled him, pushing away some loose curls from his forehead. “‘M not too heavy, am I?” Louis asked, stemming from his self-conciousness, shifting in the position he was in so he didn’t end up crushing Harry, who chuckled and shook his head. “You aren’t heavy at all, love. So . . . Mikey?”
“Mikey.”
“Little bastard,” Harry mumbled under his breath and pressed his and Louis’ foreheads together. “I never liked him from the start, you know. But can you promise me that you'll tell me if something like this happens again, without being stubborn?”
“Hey! It comes naturally, I will have you know, mister. But, yes, I guess I can promise you that. As long as you promise me that you will take your pills every morning, yeah?”
“Yeah, yeah.” Harry grumbled childishly while sneaking one hand under the thin of Louis’ white t-shirt, letting his long fingers splay across the bare skin which caused goosebumps to prick up instantly. “Now kiss me, you fool.”