Chapter Text
“Wow,” Harry breathed out one day in study hall, “when did Louis get so cute?” Harry stared unabashedly at the boy across the room, leaning over to whisper in Liam’s ear.
“Huh?” Liam’s head swiveled around to find a head of fringed, honey-brown hair. The owner of it, a certain Louis Tomlinson, super-star soccer player, was frowning down at the book he was reading while tapping his desk silently to the beat of whatever song was playing on his iPod. Liam eyed the boy up and down, looking skeptical. “He looks the same as always,” he said as he turned back to his math homework.
Harry slid further down the surface of their table, leaning his chin into the heel of his palm, propped up on his elbow. His green eyes were wide in fascination as he looked the footie player up and down and nearly drooled all over his notebook as well as his friend in the seat next to him.
“Nah, man,” he said, “there’s something really…wow about him. Not just today, but, like, it’s intensified lately, ya know? I dunno what it is.”
And it was true. Harry hadn’t just had an epiphany overnight – he’d noticed Louis for a long time, how he was so cheeky with the teachers, how truly intelligent he was although nobody cared to listen to him, and definitely his stunning smile that Harry couldn’t say he’d seen a lot- but whenever he did smile, it was truly breathtaking and it lit up the room. Harry had admired Louis since Harry had moved to this school in sixth grade, but only just recently had he realized just how cute and definitely dateable he was on top of everything else.
It had been a week or so ago, when the realization really hit. Harry had just turned in his quiz to Mr. Cowell, feeling good about how he did. It was on Catcher in the Rye, a book he’d read prior to this school year, and felt that he knew pretty well inside and out. He was smiling as he strode back to his seat, passing Louis on the way and not caring one bit about the way he’d looked up briefly from the book he was reading – of course he finished his quiz already – to watch him walk by. People looked at each other, no big deal. Harry looked down at his desk the moment he sat down, doodling random circles all over it while he waited for his other classmates to finish up.
“Harry.”
Harry didn’t look up, only half-hearing the whisper and assuming he was simply hearing things.
“Hey. Harry.”
He looked up this time, finding himself face to face with Louis who was sat two seats ahead of him, with the seat between them unoccupied. Harry met Louis’ blue eyes and gave him a quizzical look. Louis grinned and nodded towards Harry’s chest.
“Good band,” he whispered, more mouthing the words than speaking them. Harry stared back at him blankly. He had no idea what this lad was on about.
“The shirt,” Louis clarified, motioning up and down his own blue and white striped one then pointed at Harry’s, “good band.”
Finally understanding, Harry glanced down at his own torso to see his The Script shirt covering it. Harry flashed a grin up at Louis, not quite sure what to say. He loved The Script, and anyone who liked them was awesome in his book. More than awesome. He settled on making a noise that sounded both like a chuckle and like he was choking on his own saliva. Smooth. Harry blushed at his own idiocy, but if Louis had noticed it, then he didn’t show it. Instead, he returned a quick charming grin to Harry and spun back around in his seat to continue reading his book. A Short History of Nearly Everything, it said on the cover that Harry very inconspicuously leaned over to see. It was thick and blue and Louis had clearly read it before – he’d written notes all over the margins and between lines and paragraphs, circled things and stuck torn bits of sticky notes to certain pages. Louis’ handwriting was small and neat and looked more like art than words. Harry bit his lip and forced his eyes back down to his own crude doodles.
Harry hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Louis since that day.
“Uh, yeah, I guess?” Liam said hesitantly, pulling Harry out of his dreamy daze. But Harry didn’t need Liam’s approval. He was falling hard and fast for Louis Tomlinson and he didn’t know why, but he was okay with it. He pulled out his phone and clicked a fast picture of those handsome shoulder blades he’d started dreaming about lately. It was blurry, and Liam rolled his eyes, but Harry smiled a dimpled smile at the pixely image now gracing his screen just long enough to miss the quick subtle glance back at him he received from a pair of sea blue eyes up in the front of the classroom.