Young & Beautiful

“All right.”
And they proceed to study.
It’s fun, though. More fun than usual. Maybe because Harry’s high or something. Louis really
can’t think of any other explanation; the boy is usually miles away or taking mysterious phone
calls or just watching Louis with mild, unamused eyes that look on the verge of darting if he
comes too close but today their words come easy and Harry’s voice seems lighter, highlighting the
key points in Louis’ notes, and raising his eyebrows whenever he comes across one of Louis’
vicious doodles--he may or may not have a slight tendency to draw the various ways he could
murder his teacher on the spot using the available tools provided, such as pens, notebook spirals,
and keys.
“I think you may have an unhealthy state of mind, Louis Tomlinson,” Harry says, milky smooth,
eyes flicking over one of the more detailed depictions.
“No, but you should have heard him that day. He didn’t stop for breath once, not once, and he
laughed at all of his own jokes. You’d be envisioning choking him with a pencil case as well.”
Harry’s cheek twitches, which Louis has now come to label as ‘Harry’s laugh’ (though it’s far
from any actual form of a laugh, but still) and Louis grins, imitating the doodle with the pencil
case in his hand for an added touch.
And then Harry makes a noise in his throat that sounds like amusement, and Louis almost
comments on it, almost, but Harry doesn’t meet his eye and he can’t do it. He just can’t. Because
some fight will probably ensue from it, or Harry will deny it, or, worse still, it might prevent him
from every doing it again, so Louis looks down at the pencil case and remains quiet, biting back a
grin.
There’s silence, an odd silence, and one glance upward tells Louis that Harry looks noticeably
uncomfortable.
And that isn’t right. Louis can’t have that. And, sure, he doesn’t know what’s caused it, but no
matter, because Louis just can’t have that. They’re supposed to be progressing.
There’s a pang of silence, with Harry’s eyes blindly skimming over the words of the outline,
fiddling with his rings, and Louis keeps his eyes down on the pencil case.
“One time I imagined stuffing him in the rubbish bin and catapulting it out the window.”
And, just like that, Harry’s shoulders loosen and he makes the noise again.
Louis feels like Christmas.
Invigorated, he continues, watching Harry’s face and noting the appearance of the famous dimple
as he nibbles his lips, keeping his amusement at bay. “But we should probably stop this
conversation before I tell you about my vision with the cat food.”
Harry peers up at him, biting his cheek. “Cat food?”
Louis nods very seriously. “Yes. The cat food. I’ll save it for another day.”
“A rainy day?” Harry offers, smirk faint.
“The rainiest,” Louis agrees, and then, as one, they look back down at the papers before them,
Louis biting back another smile, and Harry looking like he doesn’t hate Louis.