Chapter Text
You would think that Tuesday evenings would be when people stay in and have a quiet one. Maybe pop a film in, have a snack, and just chill. Louis, however, is a University student. He is never going to ‘chill’. He’s going to drink until he throws his balls up and even then he’s going to laugh with his mates about it and drink some more.
He has woken up in many strange places after these parties. One time he woke up on the roof of his frat house, which was complicated to say the least. Let’s just say there was a fire brigade involved and leave it at that. It was embarrassing and Louis would rather forget about it, thanks.
So, for Louis, the pavement is tame. He can taste grit which is unpleasant. He can also feel his own congealed drool on his left cheek where it’s sticking to the ground. There’s something nudging his ribs too which is less than ideal.
“Hi-mph.” He tries to get some words out but it seems his mouth doesn’t feel like cooperating. Rude.
“Oops. Maybe that kick was a little hard... You alright, mate?” He hears a voice above him and attempts to open his eyes. The voice is lovely and chocolatey. Louis loves chocolate. Opening his eyes tells him two things, 1) It is in fact still night time so clearly this person interrupted Louis’ beauty sleep on the pavement, and 2) The boy above him is Jesus.
Okay, maybe not literally Jesus. However, Louis would happily get down on his knees and worship. Then again, he doesn’t think any of his limbs are working so that might be out of the question. Wait, the guy asked a question.
“Hmph.” Great sentence formulating skills there, Louis. You’re amazing.
“You’re so fucking out of it,” The boy sighs before crouching at Louis’ side, “Let’s get you up, shall we?” Louis huffs but accepts the boy’s help because he’s really pretty. Louis can see that the boy has brown curly hair covered with a beanie. He can also see that the boy’s arms are littered with tattoos, stretching over his shoulder and onto his neck. Most of them are visible because of the vest he’s wearing, which also makes his biceps look lickable. Louis really wants to lick them. He also has several facial piercings: two in his lip, one in his nose, and one in his eyebrow. “You gunna help at all, mate?” Louis realises the boy has had Louis’ arm draped over his shoulder for a few seconds now and Louis has made no effort to get up, too busy admiring him.
“S’rry.” Louis manages to get out before stumbling to his feet with the boy’s help. Unfortunately, it seems his body has other ideas because as soon as he is up, his knees cave and he goes tumbling again, taking the cute boy with him.
“Shit.” The boy says, getting up and dusting himself off. Louis is still on the floor, “Can you get up?” The boy asks, probably not wanting to risk being pulled down again. Louis holds out his arms and pouts as cutely as is possible when he’s this drunk.
“C’rry me?” The boy sighs again and crosses his arms.
“’m not carrying you.” Louis pouts some more.
“Pwetty please?” Is what he hopes comes out but it was probably just gibberish.
“You’re not going to move unless I carry you, are you?” Curly asks (Louis decides to refer to him as Curly in his head because it suits him better than ‘boy’. He is definitely not a boy. Not with those muscles), like Louis can articulate a proper response in his state. He can’t. Eventually Curly gets this, “Fuck it.” Is all he says before scooping Louis up like he weighs nothing and settling him in the bridle carry. Louis can’t help but giggle.
“What?” Curly asks, almost smiling himself.
“Feel like a princess.” Wow, that’s the longest sentence he has said during this whole encounter. Pat on the back. It’s also true. Louis is always big and tough, it’s nice to be carried and taken care of, even if it is by a tattooed stranger. Maybe Louis shouldn’t have trusted him so easily. Stranger danger, and all that. Curly chuckles then and Louis decides that that right there is trustworthy chuckle.
“Alright, Princess,” Curly smiles, “Where am I taking you?”
“Home.” Is all Louis replies, too busy touching Curly’s lips in wonder to reply properly. They’re really pretty and pink, and Louis loves them.
“Nice and specific.” Curly mumbles, still walking in a direction that could be completely wrong. Louis doesn’t really care though because now he has discovered the boy’s eyes.
“Your eyes are beautiful.” He states, smiling lazily at him.
“Thank you.” Curly’s smile gets wider and then suddenly there are dimples.
“You have dimples!” Louis exclaims in delight, poking at one of them with his index finger.
“Nice observation,” Curly blinks down at him and suddenly Louis is reminded of the existence of his eyes again, “Now think nice and hard, where do you live?”
“So green.”
“Not answering the question, Princess.” Curly scolds but he’s smiling.
“Delta- delta… Something,” Louis trails off, still staring at his eyes.
“Nu? Delta nu?” Curly finishes for him.
“Ding ding!” Louis shouts and Curly winces, “That’s the one.” He tries to touch his own nose but can’t seem to find it, so goes for Curly’s instead.
“Right, let’s get you home, Princess.”
“Okay, Curly.” Louis realises that probably isn’t Curly’s name.
“It’s Harry.” Curly- No, Harry- corrects him.
“Your eyes are so pretty, Harold.” Louis replies instead of giving his own name.
Then he passes out again.
Louis wakes up with a banging headache and an extremely dry mouth. He smacks his lips a few times and sits up, trying to keep from passing out. Looking around, he can see that he’s back in his room. How did that happen? What’s the last thing Louis can remember…?
Oh, yeah.
Beautiful green eyed angel punk. What was his name again? Harry, that’s it. Louis thinks Curly suited him better. That’s when Louis promptly smacks himself in the face.
How fucking embarrassing. He’d acted like a complete idiot in front of who could have possibly been the hottest bloke Louis had ever met. Well, hopefully he’ll never see him again. Or maybe it was a dream. If it was, Louis commends his imagination on a job well done.
“So, who was the guy that brought you home last night?” Niall asks with a waggle of his eyebrows from where he’s sat on his own bed in their room, a laptop perched in his lap. Not a dream, then.
“I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about, mate.” Louis lies, hoping Niall will drop the subject.
“He was fuckin’ beautiful, I tell you that. Disappointed you don’t remember,” Niall shrugs and looks back to his screen. He gestures to Louis’ bedside table, “Got you some mind numbing pills and water because I’m the greatest fucking friend in the world.”
“Marry me.” Louis breathes when he sees that Niall is not in fact lying.
“No, because that was a shit proposal,” Niall laughs, “Try be more romantic next time, babe.”
Louis throws the pills back with a few sips of the water and sighs, flopping himself back on the bed.
“Don’t get too comfy,” Niall calls, “You’ve got a lecture in 20.”
“You’re kidding,” Louis groans, “Isn’t it Saturday?”
“It’s Wednesday, mate. You’ve got that poetry thing.” Niall screws his face up. Oh god, Louis hates poetry.
“How do you know my timetable better than I do?” Louis asks as he trudges out of bed to get ready. This process involves changing his jeans and putting on a snapback, so he is in no rush.
“Because, like I said before, I’m an amazing friend.” Niall simply replies with a smile. Louis loves Niall. He’s always kind and sweet, then at parties he can drink his weight in beer and can do a hell of a keg stand. Niall is Louis’ kind of person. They got on from the word go.
“Truer words have never been spoken, Nialler. I’m gunna go get some coffee.” Louis slips on his snapback and heads for the door, sending Niall a wave before grabbing his bag and walking out. Having been up for 10 minutes maximum, Louis feels a little weird. When he walks out the front door of the house he’s pretty sure his eyeballs are trying to burrow into his brain in an escape attempt. Today is going to be just great.
Okay, coffee. He can do this. University is for learning, not just partying. Louis can absolutely learn as well as party. Even if it is poetry. Louis can do this. Be it begrudgingly, he can still do it.
Today is probably the first day Louis has arrived on time to his lecture. It’s not that he doesn’t enjoy it, he fucking loves writing and loves knowing how he can improve himself. It’s just that it’s really early and Louis is really hungover. His coffee is helping, Louis thinks as he takes another gulp of it. Usually he would pick tea over coffee any day, but tea is for relaxation and Louis needs a kick to the stomach. So, coffee it is. He wrinkles his nose when he takes his next sip, really wishing tea were more hard hitting.
He takes a seat near the middle of the room. The people at the back are the ones who probably want to sneak out at some point during the lecture, and the front is for people who like taking part which Louis most definitely does not. He sets his coffee down on the desk first before pulling his laptop out of his bag and setting it down too. He flops into his seat with a huff as he waits for the lecturer to finish whatever they’re doing on their computer. Professor Dayton likes PowerPoints, so Louis likes Professor Dayton. PowerPoints rock.
Dayton stands up, holding out the remote to turn on the presentation, and Louis starts up his computer in a hurry. He hears the door slam open but doesn’t look up, too busy moving the mouse around and willing his laptop to turn on quicker. It’s not until he hears a cough from in front of him that he finally takes his eyes off the screen.
“Alright, princess?” The first thing Louis notices is the eyes. He could never forget those eyes.
“Uh, hi.” He manages to stutter out. How fucking embarrassing. This is the guy from last night that carried Louis like a bride and Louis had lamented about his eyes and dimples and oh my god Louis is going to die.
“You mind if I sit?” Harry says with a smirk, gesturing to the empty seat on Louis’ other side.
“Um,” Louis looks around to see if there are other places for the boy to sit and sees another guy with as many tattoos as Harry gesturing for him to go sit there, “Don’t you want to sit with your mate?”
“Nah,” Harry replies with an easy smile and a shrug, not sparing his friend a glance, “I’d rather sit ‘ere with you, princess.”
“I have a name, you know.” Louis rolls his eyes, trying for nonchalance while his heart rabbits in his chest. Harry throws his bag to the floor and drops into the free chair.
“I know, I just prefer princess, princess.” Harry smiles smugly and Louis suddenly feels like writing a thousand songs about how beautiful he is. If anyone is the princess, it’s him. Louis wants to write a sonnet right then and there about the boy’s dimples, his smile, his curls still hidden under a beanie, and most of all his eyes. The eyes that will be the death of Louis Tomlinson and what a wonderful way to die.
“Whatever.” He mutters instead, turning to the front where Dayton has already started talking.
Louis spends the hour taking far more extensive notes than were probably necessary just so he didn’t have the temptation to look over at where Harry is sat next to him. He has pretty much every word Dayton had on the PowerPoint down on the virtual page, so he will have to condense it later. Harry’s gaze is burning on the side of Louis face and he can feel how intense it is. He hasn’t felt it go away since the other boy sat down and is pretty sure he’s going to explode in a minute. Luckily, the lecture finishes just before Louis is about to spontaneously combust.
“I hope you recover from your hangovers soon.” Is what Dayton dismisses them with. Louis loves him.
“How’s yours treating you?” Harry asks, following Louis out of the hall with his hands in his pockets.
“Fine.” Louis grits out. Harry may be cute but Louis would appreciate it if he pretended last night never happened. It’s embarrassing enough without the constant damn reminders.
“Good, I’m glad,” Harry sounds genuinely pleased, “I recommend Bouillon soup and sugary foods.”
“The fuck is bouillon soup?” Louis tries to ask like he isn’t interested in having any but honestly he will take anything right now.
“Vegetables,” Harry shrugs, “Loads of vitamins and stuff. I’ll make you some next time I find you on the pavement.”
“You’re such a prat.” Louis sighs.
“I’m lovely, actually,” He adjusts his beanie as they come out of the doors to the courtyard, “All my mates say so.”
“Have you seen yourself? You’re a walking poster boy for people protective parents don’t want their children dating.” Louis waves his hand in Harry’s direction.
“So are you. The snapback makes me think thug.” Harry takes the insult in his stride with a smile that shows some dimple.
“Well the tattoos make me think delinquent.”
“Extensive vocabulary,” Harry comments, “Though the revealing top makes me think slut.” Louis gasps.
“I am not a slut!”
“Of course you’re not,” Harry replies somehow looking concerned and full of mirth at the same time, “I’m commenting on stereotypes as a whole. You’re definitely a princess.”
“That’s not going to stick, you know.”
“Isn’t it?” Harry sticks his index finger in his mouth then pulls it out with a pop, holding it into the air and frowning in thought, “No I think it is. I can feel it.”
“In the air?”
“Toniiight.” Harry sings with a laugh.
“I didn’t say coming, Harold.”
“I don’t care.” Harry skips a bit ahead before stopping to wait for Louis to catch up again.
“You’re an idiot.” Louis shakes his head, trying to hold in the smile threatening to spread across his face.
“I like to call it being in touch with my inner child.”
“I think there’s a difference between being in touch with your inner child and being literally five years old.”
“So I’m literally five years old?” Harry says mockingly.
“Shut up.” Louis mutters.
“No, tell me more about how I am a university student who is literally five years old,” Harry is smiling so wide now that Louis thinks it might break his face, “How did I get here? Who let me into University? How did I get all these damn tattoos? I am literally five years old, what were they thinking?”
“If you don’t shut up right now I swear to-”
“I have to turn off here,” Harry interrupts him, “Give me something positive to end our lovely encounter?”
Louis stops at the corner where Harry has to leave and looks at the other boy contemplatively.
“This is proving a challenge.”
“Come on, princess.” Harry wriggles and shakes like a child not getting what they want.
“Fine,” Louis sighs before making eye contact and letting his lips curl up, “Your eyes are even more beautiful when I’m sober.” Harry lights up at the compliment and does an exaggerated bow.
“Until we meet again, m’lady.” Louis almost curtsies in response but manages to control the impulse.
“Until then.” He simply replies before turning and walking towards his dorms.
When he is still smiling as he comes through the door, Louis concludes that he is fucked.