Young & Beautiful

Louis almost throws up.
“Will you get my book, Louis Tomlinson?” Harry suddenly asks, and it’s so random and Louis is
so used to being ignored, that he actually jumps in response. “I forgot it in my rooms and I’m
currently occupied.” The slices of Harry’s eyes find Louis from his home in the girls’ lap as he
waits expectantly for an answer.
“All right,” he agrees immediately, thankful to be rid of the scene, and shoots up off of the grass
without a second glance back at that hot mess of people.
He marches across the campus, his mind screeching and shrilling and questioning this ‘brilliant’
fucking idea of catering to Harry, trying to decide what to do from here on out because, no, this is
certainly not working.
And then he reaches Harry’s door.
And his temper escalates.
“It’s locked,” he tries not to snap, minutes later, as he approaches Harry and the girls upon his
return. They're still in their same positions, now accompanied by two young boys and one girl, all
playing violins a few paces back. And it’s pleasant, sure, but it only serves to stir the agitation
building within Louis.
“Oh. My apologies,” Harry smiles winningly, handing over a small, ornate key tied to a strip of
red velvet. “There you are. Now, off you go.”
And so Louis makes the trip back, opens the door, and searches Harry’s rooms.
There are no textbooks to be found. And he can’t fucking call him because: 1) He doesn’t have
Harry’s number. 2) Even if he did, the bastard’s phone is dead.
He might be breathing fire.
“I couldn’t find them,” he says, upon returning again, through the fakest smile in existence, sweat
now forming on his brow as he grips Harry’s key in his hand.
“Oh, drat, you know what? I actually don’t own any school books. I don’t know what I was
thinking,” Harry says in the most exaggerated of tones, smirk blaringly evident, and his eyes glint
with something that Louis can only describe as malice.
“Right. Easy mistake,” Louis huffs, handing back the key and trying not to send his foot flying
into Harry’s crotch.
“Well, then. I think we’ll begin the proper tutoring once you’ve returned, now that Marge has
completed your outline,” Harry hums, examining the key in his hand lazily as Blonde slides her
fingers through his hair and smacks her gum, staring at Louis with bored eyes.
Louis’ stomach drops. “Returned?”
“From fetching me a cheese danish.”
“… A cheese danish,” Louis repeats flatly. Operation Best Mate. Operation Best Mate. Operation
Best Mate.
“Correct. A cheese danish. I’m hungry, Louis Tomlinson. Can’t teach on an empty stomach,” he
tuts, patting his stomach twice, and Louis almost bites clean through his lip.