Chapter Text
"Are you seriously still obsessing over that Tomlinson kid?" Niall asked Harry exasperatedly from across Harry's bedroom. It had been three days since they uploaded their video, and ever since Louis had talked about it, it gained views by the second. He kind of owes him for that.
"First of all, he's not a kid, he's older than you. And no."
Niall grabbed Harry's phone out of his hands. "Really? Explain the 5 tabs open to his Twitter, tumblr, Facebook, Instagram, and freaking Google+. Is that like a thing, now?"
"Just some light research. Leave me alone." Harry snatched the phone back.
"I would pay a lot of money to see your search history right now."
Harry ignored him.
"'How many times a day does Louis Tomlinson pee?"
Harry finally looked up at him, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "Why would I even want to know that?"
"Because you're an idiot. It's probably on there, anyway. Check tumblr."
"No, I will not 'check tumblr' for Louis Tomlinson's average piss schedule. What I will do is freak out internally because a hot famous boy is DMing me on Twitter."
"He's not really all that famous," Niall grunted, picking at his cuticles.
"1 million followers? You've got like 8."
"Die."
"Okay, jealous." Harry chuckled, and ruffled the other boy's blond hair. "Oh, and 3."
Niall looked up, confused. "Huh?"
"He pees three times a day."
"Would sending him a message saying 'Make out with me' be too spontaneous?"
Three days later, nothing had changed. Harry was still obsessing over Louis and Niall couldn't care less. It had gotten to the point where Niall could grunt and Harry would still be happy.
"I don't know, Haz. That could be counted as sexual harassment."
The curly haired boy pondered it for a moment, then decided on asking him what his favorite color was.
"God, I'm lame."
"Yeah."
"You weren't supposed to agree with that."
"Yeah."
"I'm done with you." Harry said, and chucked a pillow at his head. Niall didn't even flinch.
So far, Harry knew that Louis' favorite color was red, he had four sisters, he was from Doncaster, he hated carrots (contrary to popular belief), his parents were divorced, and he loved acting.
Harry felt like he was a schoolgirl with a crush. At least five times a day, his phone would beep and he would dive for it, no matter what was in the way. He ran into his mum at one point.
"Who's that?" she asked, trying to look over his shoulder.
Thankfully, Harry was a good head taller than her, so he just mumbled, "Nothing. Just a subscriber," and ran upstairs, where he could fangirl in peace.
____________________
"You should give me your number or something, because texting's so much easier!"
Harry glared the words looming on the tiny phone screen.
All he was seeing was "Give me your number."
It was like one of those cartoons where the angel's on one shoulder and the devil is on the other. The angel was telling him to save his feelings, don't waste your time on someone you can't have.
The devil was saying to be selfish and flirt like there was no tomorrow In the end, he went with the devil.