Chapter Text
He went there every single day, without fail. Rain or shine, hot or cold, he could always be found in that damn field of flowers behind the high school.
And it fascinated Louis as much as it puzzled him.
Louis was never really one to take much interest in others. He had a couple of close acquaintances that he could safely rely on, but he never invested in any serious relationships or friendships or any other things ending in ship. He was more the type of boy to take naps when he was bored instead of texting people, ask his sort-of-friends to give him tattoos instead of asking to hang out, and slip on his headphones during free periods so he could listen to some alternative band instead of being subjected to pointless small talk with his peers. He was bored of people asking why he dyed his hair red, what his tattoos meant, or how it felt to have a piercing, so he just avoided interaction with most people, making sure he made himself seem unapproachable.
But this boy... He was different. Louis hadn’t spoken a single word to the boy in his life, but he knew he was just different. Special.
He loved to observe the curly-haired boy, loved to watch him as he walked around the side of the building, adjusting the straps on his backpack almost neurotically, like a nervous habit. The boy’s—his name was Harry, Louis remembered fondly—frame looked, despite his towering height, dwarfed by the oversized cream-coloured sweater he wore, the ends of the sleeves reaching just past his balled-up hands. He’d gnaw gently on his perfect pink lip, jade eyes soft and slightly unfocused as he simply followed the same path he walked every day.
It wasn’t like Louis stalked him. He wouldn’t consider it that, anyway.
It was merely a coincidence that Harry’s daily route passed right by the same place Louis hung out with those sort-of-friends of his every day after school, chatting aimlessly about things he couldn’t care to recall later. How could the blue-eyed boy be blamed for wanting to watch Harry? Again, he simply fascinated Louis.
It wasn’t just the eyes, or the body, or the cute way he’d sometimes pull his silver airplane necklace out from beneath his sweater just to fiddle with it mindlessly. It wasn’t even the way he’d sometimes kick adorably at the rocks that littered his path, occasionally tripping over his own big feet in the process, then looking around to see if anyone had noticed.
No, it wasn’t really any of those things.
What captured—and kept—Louis’s attention was that damn flower crown perched atop the boy’s silky brown curls.
And it was that same damn flower crown that finally pushed Louis to just go with his gut and jump off the stone bench he was previously sat upon, dashing after the sweet-faced boy. Said boy had just slipped into the line of trees, on the other side of which Harry’s field awaited not only one teen but two today. The inked-up lad ignored his friends’ curious calls, leaving them behind without a second thought because he needed to follow Harry, needed to see him up close for once, needed to finally hear his voice.
And maybe he wouldn’t really mind feeling those luxurious pink lips against his, too.
No, he definitely wouldn’t mind that.
By the time Louis finally reached the field—it surprised him how many damn trees there were here; how had Harry even managed to find this place?—Harry was already settled comfortably in the middle of it, the delicate centerpiece in a congregation of yellow daffodils, white daisies, and a plethora of wildflowers scattered amidst the grass. Somewhat to Louis’s surprise, the sight his eyes beheld was of Harry curled up in a ball on the ground, eyes shut and a pair of earbuds in, connected to the cassette player lying on the grass beside him. As Louis took a couple steps closer, still just barely on the outskirts of the field, he cocked his head slightly to the right curiously, wondering what tape the boy could be listening to, and also why he had such an outdated music player. He subconsciously fingered the edge of the iPhone 5 he had tucked inside the pocket of his ripped skinny jeans, musing on what type of music the other boy listened to. Did they like the same bands? As of now, Louis still had him pegged as an indie kind of kid.
Louis had been slowly inching forward, taking small baby steps as he distracted himself with his thoughts, becoming more and more apprehensive the closer he got. Suddenly, he came to a halt, not quite able to bring himself to stir the resting boy yet, who just looked too peaceful to disturb. Wondering if the boy was thinking about anything in particular or if he was simply enjoying the music in his ears, Louis let his gaze roam the field, eyes searching for nothing specific but finding something anyway. Louis was certain that if this was a cartoon, there would be a bright light bulb hovering above his head right about now.
Carefully, he treaded over to a patch covered in pretty blue and white daisies.
It took him about ten minutes to figure out how to twine and wrap the stems together properly in order to form a chain, but that time didn’t pass without a good amount of stolen glances to the oblivious boy nearby. He seemed to be sleeping now, and Louis thought to himself that Harry must have been the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, conscious or not. And he’d seen his fair share of lovely things in his life.
Finally, he’d completed his little project and, grinning down at it proudly, began to clamber up and trip over to where Harry lay, eager to present him with his handmade gift. Heaving a nervous sigh, Louis squatted down in front of Harry, rocking back and forth slightly on his heels. After several long beats of hesitation, Louis eventually mustered up the courage—or dumb bravery, whichever you’d like to call it—to lightly tap the younger boy on his arm, his fingertips lingering for just a moment longer on the soft fabric of his sweater. He hadn’t expected such a feather-light touch to rouse the seemingly unconscious boy, rather expecting several attempts to be necessary, but almost immediately, Harry’s eyelids fluttered open, revealing green of the loveliest shade Louis had ever seen.
Harry seemed only mildly startled by the other lad’s appearance, simply blinking up at him in a sleepy manner that Louis could only find to be extremely precious. The curly-haired teen slowly plucked the earbuds out and pushed himself into an upright sitting position, prompting Louis to follow suit so they were both sitting criss-cross applesauce opposite each other. One stared blankly; the other stared curiously, waiting.
Okay, Louis thought.
Here’s my chance, Louis thought.
Really, Lou, say something, dammit, Louis thought.
Finally, he forced something out of his mouth, though all he could manage was an embarrassingly breathy, “Hello.”
“Hi,” Harry murmured back just as softly.
Okay, this was good. This was a start.
“You’re, ehm, Harry, right? Harry Styles?”
Harry nodded.
“And you’re Louis Tomlinson.” It wasn’t really a question, but Louis nodded in confirmation anyway, his head kind of just bobbling awkwardly.
“I walk past you everyday,” Harry added, as if he felt the need to explain how he knew the boy. “I, um, I see you—usually. With your friends.”
Louis cleared his throat, begging his face not to flush at this new tidbit of knowledge. Harry noticed him too? Was he as interested in Louis was Louis was in him? “Yeah, I, eh, see you too. When you pass by, I mean.”
At this, the corner of Harry’s rosy mouth lifted in the shy beginnings of a smile. Louis was hesitant to make eye contact now that he had a rather bold question pressing at the forefront of his mind, instead opting to stare down at his lap. Despite his reluctance, he cleared his throat again and willed himself to speak. All he could force out was, “Do you, um...” before he trailed off helplessly.
He hadn’t finished the question, or even really hinted at what he intended to ask, but apparently, Harry understood anyway because when Louis finally got the courage to look up, that ghost of a smile had grown into a full-on grin and the boy was nodding his head bashfully. His heart swelled to three times its normal size. He didn’t need to finish the question; one glance at Harry’s telltale face and Louis knew, without a doubt, that he wasn’t the only one admiring from afar here.
Suddenly, he remembered what he was holding in his hands—how could he forget? Not really one for grace today, he abruptly thrust the chain of daisies towards the other boy, hoping to God he hadn’t crushed any of the petals. “Here, I, uh, I made this,” he announced briskly, feeling more unsure of himself than he ever had before. “Just now—for you.”
And that—that caused the sweetest smile Louis had ever witnessed to spread across the other’s face. Harry was positively beaming, making grabby hands at the gift like a five-year-old that was just offered a second helping of cake.
And before Louis could stop himself, he was already reaching up to discard Harry’s current flower crown of budding red roses and replacing it with the one he had just made.
And then before Harry could stop himself, he was already taking the crown of roses and settling it atop the other boy’s head of feathery dyed hair.
And then before either of the boys could stop themselves, their eyes had already locked (green meeting blue); their warm breaths were already fanning over each other’s faces (peppermint battling cinnamon); and their mouths were already closing the distance (pink lips crashing into pink lips).
And then it was just Louis and Harry—meeting each other, touching each other, exploring each other—in that damn field of flowers behind the high school.