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It's a typical Tuesday night and Louis is trying to pay attention to the book sitting in his lap at the moment. Keyword: trying. The title of the book slips his mind and the letters on the page are blurring together but it's not his fault. The culprit that has stolen his attention is standing right outside his window, pacing in his own bedroom.
His mother always taught him not to ease drop but it's so hard not to when Harry is literally yelling into his phone and the walls are thin (or it may be the fact that Louis has incredible hearing when things involve Harry).
He looks adorable in his long green t-shirt (that probably brings out the green in his eyes) and dark blue and white checkered pajama bottoms. Maybe cute isn't the word to describe him though because every time Louis looks up to see his muscled arms littered with tattoos, he bites his lip a little harder.
"Well, I'm not dating Ciara, I'm dating you! So, why does it matter that she sits beside me in Chemistry?"
Focus on the book, Louis tells himself. His hand is itching to grab his sharpie and write Harry a message but he can't. They're discussing this book in class tomorrow and he needs to be prepared if any questions are aimed at him. Or were they discussing it on Thursday? Next week maybe?
"No, I'm not saying that I wanna date Ciara! You're twisting my words." Harry has his curly hair wrapped up in a bun as he paces back and forth. His hand is making wild gestures in the air while he listens to whatever Taylor, his girlfriend, has to say. If Louis were Taylor, he'd just let it go. She has Harry freaking Styles as a boyfriend. What could she possibly complain about?
"You know what? I'll talk to you later. Have fun with the girls tonight."
Louis snaps his book shut, not that he was paying any attention to it anyway, and lays it on his bed. He nudges his glasses up farther on his nose before sitting on the bench in front of his window. Harry sits on down on his own bed, burying his face in his hands in distress. Louis makes quick work of writing a simple, "You ok?" on his notepad as he waits for Harry to look up again.
Once Harry looks up, Louis holds up his notepad to allow Harry read the message. The way Harry's lips curl up into a smile as he reads it causes Louis' heart to skip a beat.
"TiRED of DRAMA," Harry writes back. Louis loves the way his letters are never consistently in upper case or lower case.
His cheeks burn as he writes back a sympathetic, "Sorry," with a little sad face at the bottom.
Harry shouldn't be going through all this trouble. The taller lad shrugs his shoulders, his left dimple peaking from his cheek as he stands up again. Louis looks down at his notepad and bites his lip. Flipping to a new page, he begins to write frantically, glasses slipping lower down his nose as Burn by Ray LaMontagne plays in the background. It's a song Harry once introduced him into, something Taylor definitely wouldn't like. She's more into pop, Harry's more into Indie, and Louis' more into Harry. It's complicated.
Once Louis' done writing his message, he takes a deep breathe and closes his eyes. He catches himself off guard as he flips it up and stares out his window for Harry's reaction... But he's met with the navy blue material of Harry's curtains.
"Ugh," Louis groans as he falls back onto his bed. "What does she have that I don't? Oh, right. A pair of boobs and a," he shivers, "vag."
He lays there for a few minutes, listening as a song by Birdy plays and ends. His book, he still doesn't recall the name of it, is pressing uncomfortably into his lower back but he's too lost in his thoughts to notice or care.
Harry would never like him. He's the polar opposite of what Taylor is. She wears short (short) skirts, he wears t-shirts. She's the captain of the cheer leading squad/team thing that always cheers on the sidelines at Harry's football games. And Louis, yeah, he's on the bleachers, performing with the school band.
Why does Harry even like her? They are so different. Harry is down to Earth, sweet, and so funny. She's up in the clouds, rude, and nasty. Harry's not the type to like a girl for their body, so he must see something appealing under all the make up and what little clothing she wears. Opposites must truly attract.
Louis would be the best girlfriend, boyfriend, Harry has ever had. He would send him those cute good morning texts, he'd allow Harry to have friends that are female (something Taylor doesn't allow), he'd hug Harry and kiss his cheek after big wins. He knows Harry better than Taylor ever will.
"What if," Louis mutters to himself as he sits up, "what if I changed the way I dressed to make Harry notice me more than just 'the neighbor I talk through my bedroom window using a sharpie and a notepad'?"
Louis giggles as he gets out of bed and stumbles over toward his closet. If he dressed less Louis and more outgoing, maybe Harry would like fall in love with him.
He changes from his baggy band camp shirt and pajama pants, that match Harry's, into a pink based hippy outfit, complete with a pink headband. From there, the outfits get more ridiculous. There was the goth outfit, black choker covered with silver spikes and, possibly black painted nails if he decided on it. Some kind of mismatched outfit that looked like something a four year old put together that consisted of horizontal and vertical stripes. It made him look like some kind of illusion, and for a tiny fraction of a second, Louis considered wearing it to school to try and hypnotize Harry into loving him.
Somewhere between the prestigious, rich boy suit and the rapper outfit, sagging jeans and white tank top, his music went from sad to exciting. He stopped moping around his room in favor of dancing the funky chicken to Maroon 5. He even goes as far as singing into the handle of his brush and doing an air guitar on his bed. He fails to notice that he left his curtains wide open as he dances around his room like a lunatic, though.
He also fails to notice Harry pull his own curtains back before he goes to bed to see him dancing, chuckling as the smaller boy does a dance (??? if you can call it that) that resembles someone spazzing out.
>>>
To Kill A Mockingbird is the title of the book. The book Louis' seemingly always reading when Harry decides to pay him a visit, a visit that's not just Louis thinking about him (If those counted as visits, Harry would be pretty much attached to Louis).
"Hey Louis. What's up?"
Even though Louis saw Harry walking toward him, he still jumped at the sound of his voice, "Hiya Harry. I'm just catching up on my reading and enjoying the weather. How about you?" Louis looks up at Harry, hair falling into his face.
Tucking Louis' hair behind his ear, Harry smiles, "Just enjoying the weather, as well."
Harry should be illegal. Him and his worn out jeans. How can someone be so platonic? Louis can barely utter a simple, "Hello," to the taller boy without having a mini heart attack. He's already a blushing, stuttering mess all because Harry brushed some hair out of his face.
They both look out to the multicolored playground. All the little children running around without a care in the world. It falls silent between them, but it's comfortable silence that neither of them feel the need to break just yet.
"I remember when I was that young."
Louis looks up at Harry, saying a breathless, "Yeah? Did you have curls then as well?"
"Nah. My hair was completely straight back then."
"Really? I thought you came out of the womb with those luscious curls."
Harry chuckles and Louis lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. This was pretty easy, holding a verbal conversation with Harry. He was making Harry laugh now, a sound that's harmonious and unique; light and raspy, but deep and addicting. A sound Louis' only heard two times before. The only thing that makes this time different though, is the fact that Louis is to blame for that sound.
Harry looks back up at Louis with a smile so wide that even an artist with the biggest canvas wouldn't be able to capture its beauty. Louis, though, he will try to capture with his eyes. The way Harry's dimples make deep indents in his cheeks and little crinkles appear in the corner of his eyes. And everybody has crinkles in their eyes when they smile, but these ones are Harry's so Louis makes sure he keeps these crinkles in a safe place.
"Sorry to disappoint you but these curls were an acquired gift."
Louis covers his mouth with the back of his hand as he begins to giggle. He ducks his head low, never before wishing he had long hair so hard in his life so he'd be able to hide the blush spreading across his cheeks.
"My apologies, Har— "
Louis' cut off by the startling sound of a car horn. Looking up, he sees the shiny red paint of Taylor's car and the steely glare of her blue eyes.
"Sorry to cut his conversation short, but bye Lou!" Harry gets up from the bench, waving as he steps into Taylor's car. That's before she grabs him by the back of his neck and steals his lips in a heated kiss. No, "Hi," or, "Hey," like normal couples. Nope. Just a kiss, that seems to be more of Taylor just sucking Harry's soul out from his mouth.
She sends Louis another glare from over Harry's shoulder, looking more smug than ever. Louis secretly hopes a bird poops on her head before she can roll up the top to her convertible. Oops (Hi).
Harry doesn't even smile as Taylor drives off. He grins, but it's nothing like the smile Louis just witnessed as they talked about his womb curls. You'd think he'd be more happy about spending time with his girlfriend.
Or maybe he did and the sun is just affecting Louis' glasses, causing him to see things. Or not see things. Maybe it's his in denial blinding him. Who knows? Either way, Louis feels his heart break as he watches the one he loves kiss someone else, then drive away (unknowingly, with his heart).
>>>
Louis' clarinet leaks onto his shoes as the band mates surrounding him jostle him about. A kid named Niall who plays the trombone, he has the lungs for it, judging the way he can talk for hours, won't stop jumping. He's smacked Louis in the forehead about six times since the game started. Good thing they were in the last quarter and in the lead.
It's not that Louis doesn't like football, soccer is more his thing, it's more the crazy student body that doesn't seem care about the eardrums and safety of others. It's practically raining popcorn with 95% chance of getting hit with an elbow.
It's near the last five minutes of the game when some of Niall's enthusiasm rubs off on him and he starts jumping as well. Harry has been making big plays all night but this time he seems to be running a lot more. Maybe it's because he's a running back? Or a wide receiver? What's the difference between the two?
The quarterback, the one and only position Louis does know, hikes (???) the ball and Harry takes off. Louis finds himself screaming louder as the QB, he knows football slang, notices that Harry's open and throws it to him. Securing the ball between his large hands and muscled arms, Harry dodges the defenders that belong to other team and makes it to the in zone, scoring the last touchdown of the game.
The Knights rush onto the field, thrusting their gold helmets above their heads as they congratulate their quarterback and whatever position Harry plays. The bleachers are full of shouts and stomping feet as they celebrate another win for their school and Louis finds himself joining in. The cheerleaders are doing a cheer that requires them to spell, "V-I-C-T-O-R-Y!" Taylor does some kind of double flip cartwheel move as the other cheerleaders stand back and let her have the spotlight, clapping along.
Harry's lifted on his teammates shoulders when he takes off his helmet, face sweaty and hair wet. He lifts his arms up and hollers, shaking his head like a wet dog as his face illuminates happiness and joy. Louis does not fonds so hard.
And Taylor has to go and ruin it.
Usually, after games, Harry meets Taylor on the sideline so she can kiss the life out of him as a consolation prize for winning. She'll blow him a kiss after they part and Harry leaves to go down to the locker rooms. This time though, Taylor was congratulating someone for sure. It just wasn't Harry. It was Zayn Malik.
Harry seemed distraught and hurt that Taylor would do something like this and Louis couldn't help but gasp. He expected it, yes, but it still hurt just as much. Due the screaming, Louis isn't able to make out what they're saying but Harry does storm off. Thankfully so because he misses Taylor latching her lips onto Zayn's like a leech and Louis can't help but shake his head at that. That girl has no decency.
And again, she had Harry freaking Styles as her boyfriend. What more could she possibly ask for?
She can't get the best of both worlds. Wait. Wrong pop star. Yikes!
>>>
Months pass, seasons change, and Louis finds himself in bed studying. On the night of prom.
He's studying the phases of the moon (because, really, as a 17 year old, those phases are things he's gonna need to know as he enters the adult world) when he notices movement from out of the corner of his eye.
His jaw drops and he forgets how to breathe.
Harry's in a white suit with the pattern of grey flowers littering the entirety of it. He's got on a black button up shirt, all the buttons buttoned for a change, under his blazer, hair falling in perfect, chocolate ringlets across his shoulders. He pulls back his curtains and looks at Louis in confusion.
"You GOING ToNIGHT?"
Somewhere between, "You," and, "ToNIGHT," Louis remembers that he's a living human being. He also realizes he probably looks ridiculous with his jaw hanging slack, stretched across his bed in jeans and his The Fray t-shirt.
He reaches over the side of his bed and grabs his notepad, "no, studying." He sends Harry an apologetic look.
Maybe it's a trick of the light or Louis' imagination, but Harry physically deflates, wilts like the little flower he is, as he reads the message Louis wrote back.
"WISH YOU WERE!" Harry's letters were consistent and persistently reminded Louis of the sleek black suit hanging in his own closet.
Louis giggles and shakes his head, looking down at his fingers nervously as he hears the room to Harry's bedroom shut. He's about to resume studying when a thought crosses through his mind. He remembers trying to get Harry's attention months before, but a formal outfit never crossed his mind.
Harry probably already has a date, Louis thinks spitefully. I should just return to my lonely studying about meaningless stuff.
It's that moment when Louis snaps, his #2 pencil splitting into two pieces within his palm.
"She doesn't deserve Harry's love! She doesn't know him like I do. I know his favorite song and his favorite color! I make him laugh when he's upset! I know he plans to have children in the future and he wants a cat named Dusty. I know he wants to own a bakery and—and I love him! And that's more than tho—"
"Louis?" His mom shouts from outside his bedroom door. He finds himself out of his bed, standing in front of his closet.
His cheeks flush, "Yes Mom?"
"Are you talking to yourself, Hun?"
"Yes Mom!"
He can hear his mom laughing through the door, "Okay, Boo. Did you decide whether or not you were going to Prom tonight?"
Was he really going to do this? Profess is undying love for Harry Styles?
"Yeah Mom. I decided to go."
Hell yeah, he did.
"Aww, Lou! I'll go get the camera ready!"
>>>
It's really crowded when he gets to the school and it only adds to his discomfort. He traded his glasses in for his contacts and his blazer was squeezing the life out of his lungs. He was limited to only shallow breaths.
People, people that would normally never talk to him, greet him as he navigates his way through the crowd, looking for a curly head and a white suit. His own suit sparkles against what little light there is in the gym.
It's when he's apologizing for running into yet another student holding a cup of punch, feeling hopeless and forlorn, when he spots him.
The crowd sort of thins out as he makes his way toward Harry, looking like a man on a mission. His palms are sweating nervously, knees feeling weak as gets closer and closer to his Harry. The next moments happened like they do in the movies.
Harry turns around at the last moment to catch Louis standing three feet behind him, as if sensing his presence. He falls speechless for a heartbeat, the loud bass and flashy people fading as Harry meets Louis' eyes. For a short second, it was just them, a big, goofy smile on Harry's face as Louis smiles back, just as wide.
Then Taylor's grabbing Harry's arm, drawing his attention away from Louis. The music is flooding his ears again, he's becoming aware of the crowd again, and it's no longer just him and Harry in the world.
His smile is slowly slipping off his face and he's got a really, really strong urge to run but there's a tiny voice called hope in his head that tells him to listen. And, boy, is he glad he did.
He watches as Harry pushes Taylor away, ignoring whatever she has to say in favor of making his way toward Louis again. Louis makes quick work of pulling out the paper (the paper from that typical Tuesday night) from the inside pocket of his suit. He unfolds it clumsily, heart beating loud and rapid in his ears as he tries his best to gauge Harry's reaction.
"I love you."
Harry reaches into his own jacket pocket, pulling out his own folded piece of paper. "I love you," written in blue marker.
Louis giggles in relief, holding his hand over his mouth as his eyes water. Harry makes two large strides over to the shorter lad, grabbing the hand over his mouth and, instead, intertwines their fingers.
Harry doesn't hesitate leaning down and connecting their lips gently, eyes fluttering shut. Louis' heart calms down, he can hear the bass and feel the people around him, his hands aren't shaking and he feels like he can stand on his own. Harry literally kisses back the life into his soul.
"You belong with me," Louis whispers after he pulls away, lips wet and tasting of pink bubblegum.
>>>