Chapter Text
There was only one good thing about the first day of Harry’s senior year: It was the Last First Day of high school.
Hurray for small miracles.
Harry locked up his ancient piece of junk in the senior lot, steeled himself with a deep breath and trudged toward the building, one strap of his backpack slung across his shoulder. Keeping his head down, he skirted around the cliques grouped into their usual places: theater kids under the willow tree, jocks by the brick wall, robotics club nerds next to the bike rack.
He didn’t belong anywhere and couldn’t wait for this year to be over so he could finally get to the part where his life would start for real. Summer had only reinforced how badly he needed to get out of this small town, despite all his heady aspirations back in June.
“Hey H, wait up,” a voice called across the parking lot, just as he reached out for the door handle—trying not to overthink all the kids staring at him while he waited for his best friend to catch up.
He shielded his eyes from the solar glare as Niall jogged over. “Hey, Ni.”
“What’s up, buddy?” Niall reached out his fist for a bump, their typical morning greeting since he’d moved to town sophomore year.
Harry inhaled deeply before replying. “Okay, I guess.” He hadn’t slept well and couldn’t shake the dark feeling he’d woken up with. “Been better.” Shrugging, he pulled the door open. “But been worse, too. So there’s that.” The cool, stale air of the interior hit them as the door slammed shut behind them.
“Well, aren’t you a ray of sunshine this morning?” Niall smirked. “At least you look good, even if your bad attitude doesn’t correspond with your excellent fashion sense.” He pulled on Harry’s lapel. “No one else is wearing a silk blouse with a bolero jacket on the first day of school, man. Just you.”
Harry shrugged again and looked down at himself. “I thought dressing up might make me feel better,” he admitted, wrinkling his lips. “You know the saying: If you look good, you feel good?” He clicked his tongue. “But I’m not sure it worked.”
Niall nodded his approval. “You look mahvelous, dahling.” They both chuckled, remembering the old Billy Crystal skit they’d laughed about on YouTube over the summer.
They walked through the halls toward Harry’s locker in amiable silence. Niall punched his shoulder. “Well, then, Styles, here’s to the first day of the last year in hell. See you at lunch.” He smoothed out an imaginary wrinkle on Harry’s jacket. “Don’t muss up this look. I like it.” He winked. “Dahling.”
Niall walked down the hall toward his own locker, whistling a tune and looking like he didn’t have a care in the world. Sometimes Harry wondered why he’d befriended him in the first place. Making friends with the weirdo gay kid with the funky fashion sense didn’t seem like a sure thing for High School popularity when you were the new kid in school. But two years in and Niall still never seemed to care what people said. Harry wished he could corral some of his attitude.
He turned to his locker, trying to remember the combination after the long summer. His fingers felt stiff against the dial.
An exaggerated gasp sounded behind him. “Oh my god, Styles. What are you wearing?”
Closing his eyes, Harry leaned his forehead against the cold metal and wondered why on Earth he’d decided to take such a fashion risk today of all days. He’d loved the feel of the silky smooth shirt on his skin when he slipped it on after his shower this morning. It made him feel powerful in a way that a cotton T-shirt never could. But that feeling had vanished the second he’d stepped out of his car and walked through the gauntlet of high school mediocrity.
Why did he think today would be any different?
Every single set of eyes in the hallway pivoted toward him, as he focused on the combination and tried to ignore the voice behind him.
Joe Corbett’s baritone rang across the hallway again. “Styles! Head’s up. Are you wearing a girl’s shirt under that jacket? Wait, is that also a girl’s jacket?” What sounded like the entire football team laughing echoed in waves toward him. He tried not to flinch. To be fair, not every kid in the hall laughed. Some of them just turned away and pretended not to notice. No one wanted to attract the ire of Joe Corbett, or any of the other football boys—especially on the first day of school.
Flicking his index finger at the corner of his eye, pretending an eyelash had fluttered free, Harry ignored the laughter. He could do this. It wasn’t like this wasn't exactly like every other day of his high school career. He’d always been the one the bullies lobbed their verbal grenades toward–thinking it was funny to tease the kid that was just a little different than everyone else. His hand shook as he twisted the dial of the locker combo again and pulled the handle. Nope. Not it. Try again. He needed to get a grip. He could not cry in the hallway on the first day of senior year. It would be over before it began.
“Hey, everyone!” Joe’s voice rang out again, as he started to get more enthusiastic. “Check it out! Styles is wearing girl’s clothes!” Joe Corbett was dumb enough that he’d latch onto whatever he thought was a funny joke and repeat it until he got bored. “Maybe he’ll run for Homecoming Queen this year.” He guffawed at his own words. “That would be priceless. Harry Styles as Homecoming Queen. He’d be the prettiest Queen we’ve ever had. I think someone should nominate him.”
Harry didn’t turn around but he imagined him high-fiving all the other guys around him at his hysterical joke. It sounded like the whole team was laughing over there. He’d planned to decorate the inside of his locker before the first class this morning, but maybe he’d just carry his whole backpack with him all day.
“Oi, Joe.”
That voice. Harry knew that raspy voice. He turned on instinct as Louis Tomlinson strode down the hall and stopped in front of Joe. “Quit it.”
Harry tried to calm his breathing into something slightly less than a full-blown panic attack as he attempted not to stare at golden skinned, blue-eyed Louis Tomlinson, dressed in his football jersey just like all the other boys, who now stood in Joe’s space staring him down.
“Leave the kid alone,” Louis said, keeping his voice low and even. Harry shivered from across the hallway.
Breathe .
“Or what?” Joe sneered, but he backed up a step, even though the other boy was a hair shorter—betraying his true feelings of being called out by Louis.
Harry strained to hear what came next, because the cacophony in the hallway had returned to normal. He took one last look across the hallway at Louis putting one arm around Joe’s neck in a menacing choke hold and patting him on the chest with the other. It looked like he was whispering something threatening the way the color drained from the other boy’s face. For just a split second, Harry was sure Louis’ eyes had flicked up to meet his own from across the hall, but it was too quick and too far away, he couldn’t be sure. He must have imagined it because there was no way. Not possible.
He hadn’t seen Louis since the beginning of August, but that had been under very different circumstances. They hadn’t spoken that day. Not really. Even then, it had been a very short one-sided conversation. If Harry was honest with himself, he had sort of expected to hear something from him after the incident that horrible Thursday afternoon.
The radio silence was perplexing to say the least.
Niall would tell him it meant something, but he tried not to think about anything having to do with Louis Tomlinson, if he could help it. He couldn’t think about the way his skin shone in the sunlight. Or the way the wind caught his hair and blew it to the side of his face when he ran around the track during PE. Or the delicious way he smelled like vanilla and something spicy when he passed by in the hallway. Or the way his blue eyes changed color and sparkled in the daylight or the crinkles at his temples when he laughed. Because Harry had noticed all of those things. He had a treasure trove of little things he’d noticed over the years about Louis Tomlinson. And the fact that every single thing made his heart beat speed up and his insides flip around didn’t make anything about his life easier.
In fact, crushing on the captain of the football team was decidedly something he should actively avoid. Especially, if he wanted to make it out of this place in one piece. Even if the guy was the kindest boy in the school and made his stomach swoop into knots when he looked in his direction. It was suicide to even consider the possibility his crush being discovered–no matter how many times he thought Louis might possibly be queer or what Harry’s own nighttime fantasies might suggest.
He trudged to Honors Bio and flung himself into a seat in the back row, vowing to ignore the bullies. In fact, ignore everyone. Especially ignore the pretty blue-eyed boy who stared down the bullies and called them out on his behalf. Harry thought he was possibly the more dangerous of the two. He also knew it was going to be near impossible to get him out of his mind—he’d been trying to do just that for weeks.
Years, really.
***
“Let me get this straight,” Niall tucked into his veggie burger. “He seriously hasn’t said one word to you since it happened.”
Harry rolled the sleeves of his shirt above his elbows so he wouldn’t drag the material through his salad dressing by mistake. He’d left the jacket in his locker, feeling like he needed to downgrade his look a bit after the morning, but the blouse wasn’t really subtle at all. “Which ‘it’ are you talking about?” He sipped his soda and flicked at a tomato with his fork. But he knew what Niall meant.
Niall rolled his eyes. “The thing that happened this summer, Bonehead. Is there another ‘it’?”
The thing was, Harry didn’t like to think about ‘it’ at all. The summer job that he hoped would change his life had been lifeguarding at the town lake. At first, it seemed like a dream. Get a first aid certificate for free (great for his college resume) and sit on his bum all summer getting a killer tan. The growth spurt that started last spring was sure to continue and he’d start senior year more buff, more tan, and more appealing to anyone who might be looking.
Or at least less of a moving target. Who was he kidding? He'd take what he could get.
Two weeks into the dream job, and it had become a nightmare. The other lifeguards hated him for being a rule follower and a bit of a butt-kisser to their boss. Harry couldn’t help it, it was just his nature to be polite, but it sometimes came across as too much, too mature for his age, especially to the other kids. Because he was newer on staff they gave him the worst shifts, and one person in particular—Greta—picked on him to no end. Really, she was the bitchiest person he’d ever met. She hid his towel, threw out his salad from the shared fridge, and constantly undermined him in front of the kids they were supposed to be guarding and teaching.
The only bright spot all summer at the lake was on Thursday afternoons. Louis Tomlinson brought his four younger sisters for a swimming lesson and an afternoon at the beach. Sometimes Louis would wave to Harry or shrug from a distance, but then he’d point to his sisters indicating he had responsibilities. Harry tried not to imagine that there was a connection every time they shared a conspiratorial glance. Sometimes he made himself think it was inevitable that they’d finally actually talk. He imagined that maybe they’d go for coffee after his shift or, on particularly fantasy heavy days, the Friday night bonfire on the beach that he’d managed to avoid all summer. But Louis hadn’t even spoken out loud to Harry since seventh grade, so it was hard keeping up the illusion. And there was no way Harry was going to interrupt him when he was babysitting.
That was out of the question.
The first Thursday in August, Harry had finally been assigned the guppies class. He’d been “shadowing” Greta all summer and listening to her jabs about how he talked too slow to teach a class by himself, or that he couldn’t be trusted to run a water game with fourth graders. By chance, the oldest of the Tomlinson girls, Lottie, had just moved up from the tadpoles.
With her hands on her tiny hips, and an attitude big enough for a kid twice her size, she looked enough like Louis with her bright blue eyes that it had rattled Harry for the first few seconds of class. His pause gave Greta enough time to swoop in and make her move.
Again.
“Hey kids,” she said, and clapped her hands together. She glanced at him, and smirked. “Harry here is an inexperienced lifeguard and he’s feeling a bit over his head with you big kids today. I’ll be taking over the class. Thanks, H,” she said, as she shooed him away.
Humiliated in front of fourth graders, he sulked away to hide in the lifeguard shack. As much as she’d embarrassed him over and over, he really should have had a better come back by now. Skulking away to hide was the cherry on the sundae. He just didn’t know what else to do–but now he was definitely counting down the days to the end of the summer. And beyond that to the end of high school. He thought he caught Louis’ concerned look as he turned the corner, but he didn’t dare look back to check. He’d never be able to live it down if word got out that he’d been downgraded from teaching ten-year-olds.
Twenty minutes later, Harry was in the middle of color coding the shift board when he heard panicked screams. He sprinted back to the beach just in time to see Louis carrying a small girl out of the lake.
Tears streamed down his face as Harry raced up next to him amidst a crowd of panicked onlookers. “I just looked away for a second and she disappeared,” he sobbed, gripping his sister tightly against his chest. “Please help her.”
Harry’s nerves disappeared as his training took over. He guided Louis to put her down on the sand and then tipped the girl’s small body to the side to clear her passageway and check for a pulse. He looked up and found Greta’s eyes in the crowd, holding back a small crowd gathered. “Greta, call 911.”
Time slowed down as Harry began to administer CPR. It felt like hours, but it was really only a few seconds before the girl coughed up water and vomited on the beach.
“Louis,” she cried out for her brother, who crouched down and pulled her into a hug just as the paramedics jogged up the beach. The other girls ran over from where they’d stood, pale and crying, and piled onto their siblings as Harry stepped back to give them space.
Looking down at Louis and his sisters, he wiped his eyes and forehead suddenly feeling the weight of what had happened. His hands shook slightly at his side as a bead of sweat dripped down his face. One of the paramedics stood up and reached out to shake his hand and clap him on the back. “Good job, son. You saved this girl’s life today. You should be very proud.”
Harry didn’t know what to say. He was just glad he’d been there. Paralyzed, he watched as the small family was led away. He jolted as Louis ran back and pulled him into a tight embrace.
“Thank you,” he sobbed. “I’ll never be able to repay you for what you’ve done today. I owe you…” He sucked in a shuddering breath. “I don’t know…everything…for saving my sister’s life. Thank you so much.” His bright blue eyes glistened with tears as he pulled back and placed his hand on Harry’s sternum. “Seriously, man. Thank you.” And then he jogged to catch up to his sisters and the paramedics loading everyone into the ambulance.
Harry felt like he’d been hit with a baseball bat. Shock and attraction mixed with confusion and concern as he slumped to the sand when his legs gave out, tears streaming down his face.
The Tomlinsons didn’t come back to the beach for the rest of the summer, and Harry didn’t see Louis again until today, the first day of school. That moment this morning in the hallway.
“Earth to Bonehead.” Niall waved his hand in front of Harry’s face. “C’mon Styles. I know you’re reliving that day. I can see it on your face. But you have to know that you did everything right. Whether Tomlinson ever talks to you again, you saved his sister’s life.” Niall peered at him with a concerned expression. “There’s nothing you’d change about that.”
“I know.” Harry nodded. “And he called off dumb Joe Corbett this morning in the hallway.”
“He did?” Niall put the burger he was about to shove in his mouth onto his plate. “You didn’t tell me that.”
“I was just about to,” Harry said. “I was!” he insisted at the sight of Niall’s disbelieving face. “I’m surprised you didn’t hear about it already. Joe said I should run for Homecoming Queen because I’m wearing a girl’s blouse.”
Niall rolled his eyes so far back into his head, Harry was worried for him for a minute. “Joe is the biggest loser, for real.” He cocked his head and considered Harry. “Wait,” he said. “I know that look on your face. You’re considering it.” He thumped the table. “H. Spill what you’re thinking.”
Harry smirked and threw his shoulders back. “Well, I do have my own crown at home.” He raised his hand in a practiced princess wave. “I could totally rock the sash, too.”
“You’d be the prettiest Homecoming Queen ever for sure,” Niall said, reaching across the table and punching Harry’s shoulder.
He winced. “Funny, that’s the same thing Joe said but it sounded a lot meaner coming out of his mouth.”
Niall tilted his head thoughtfully. “You know…that would be quite the statement, if you did it.” He held up his hands and spread them out in front of him as if he was reading a newspaper headline. “I can see it now: ‘Fashion forward Gay Boy takes Homecoming Queen title at Graniteville High School.’ It’d be all over the news.”
Harry frowned. “I’m not sure I want my senior year to make a statement. Maybe it’s just best to keep my head down like always and just get through it. Steer clear of political issues. Just keep doing my thing and stay out of trouble.” He risked a glance over to the football team’s table across the cafeteria. Louis Tomlinson stood in the corner of the room, holding court. Jessica Owens stood to one side in her cheerleader outfit with a few other girls and the rest of the team spread out across three tables. At just that moment, Louis looked up and met Harry’s eyes. He pursed his lips in a tiny kind smile, nodded once in greeting and then went back to talking animatedly with his minions.
“You know,” Niall said, seeing where Harry was looking. He actually had the nerve to wink. “I bet Tommo gets nominated for Homecoming King.”
The butterflies in Harry’s stomach flipped over. “I think I’m gonna be sick,” he whispered and bolted out of the room toward the nearest bathroom.