Zayn and Niall lingered near the lockers, their hands clasped as they navigated the crowded hallway. A familiar, irritating sweetness. Louis tried to ignore it, focusing instead on locating his Spanish class.
Louis POV:
I stopped before the door to Spanish, and within seconds, Harry collided with me. “S-sorry,” he mumbled, a flush rising on his cheeks. He wiped at his eyes, and the raw vulnerability was…distracting. Why was he crying? No, it wasn’t any of my business. I looked away, forcing a neutral tone. “This is Spanish,” I said, gesturing towards the room. He nodded, his gaze fixed on the floor. We entered, handed our schedules to the teacher, and then diverged. I chose a seat in the middle of the classroom, deliberately avoiding Harry, avoiding *anyone*.
The events in the janitor’s closet replayed in my mind. How had he made me feel this way? It was… instinctive. Like a muscle memory I hadn’t known I possessed. I hadn't let anyone close since moving in with Zayn and Niall last year. The thought of them, entangled in their affection, usually irritated me, but right now it felt…distant. I knew they would last. Even if I didn’t believe in love, I believed in *them*.
But trust… that was a different matter. People were awful. They were selfish, manipulative. Everyone held something to hide. I glanced over at Harry, his head bowed low, almost swallowed by the shadows at the back of the classroom. Was he asleep? Or just avoiding me? He was just a stranger, a fleeting collision in a hallway.
“Harry Styles, care to answer the question in Spanish?” Mrs. Kendal’s voice cut through the silence. Harry startled awake, rubbing his eyes. The bell rang, a jarring intrusion. “I suggest you get some sleep tonight, Mr. Styles,” she said, her tone laced with a hint of concern. “Yes, ma’am,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible.
Everyone emptied the classroom except Harry and Mrs. Kendal. I lingered outside, watching him. Suddenly, arms wrapped around my waist. “Get off, Niall,” I snapped, my voice sharper than intended. “Aww, why Lou Lou?” he whined, nuzzling my neck. “I don’t like hugs,” I said, pushing his hands away. I turned to reprimand him when a violent shove echoed through the hallway.
I whirled around to see Harry pinned against the wall by Jack, one of the school’s biggest bullies. Jack’s grip tightened around Harry’s throat. “So, you’re new around here. Let me introduce myself. I’m Jack, and I’ll take every penny you have.”
Before I could think, I was moving. “Let the lad go, mate,” I growled, my hand on Jack’s arm. “And why would I do that, fruitcake?” he sneered, his eyes glinting with malice. “Well, Zayn’s been looking for a punching bag lately, and I’m pretty sure he’d be thrilled to find one right here.” I said, my voice laced with confidence, throwing out a few big words to throw this dumb ass off. Zayn wasn’t a fighter, but he was fiercely protective of me, Niall, and Liam.
“Look, kid, I’m taking his money one way or another. You get Zayn, and I’ll beat the shit out of both you and this fairy when he’s not around anyway.” He spat. Jack glanced past me, and I saw Zayn looming behind him. Jack loosened his grip on Harry, letting him slump against the wall. A crowd was gathering. Harry snatched his bag and bolted.
I silently thanked Zayn as the crowd dispersed, then I took off after Harry. Where could he be? I searched bathrooms, janitor’s closets, the cafeteria… nothing. Just as I was about to give up, the bell rang, signaling study hall. Great.
I headed toward my car when I heard a sniffle. I walked over to my favorite shaded tree and saw Harry curled into a ball, crying. “Hey love,” I blurted out, then mentally cursed myself. I sat down beside him. “Are you okay?” I asked gently. He wiped his eyes and forced a smile, like he was being forced to smile.
“You don’t have to fake a smile with me,” I said, picking at my nails. “I know when someone is faking it.” "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get you in trouble with him," he whispered. “Accidents happen, love. It wasn’t your fault. It was his, he's an asshole.” Why was I still here? Why was I still talking to him? I needed to leave.
“Look, I’ve got to go, but just let me know if you need anything, okay?” I stood up, smoothing my shirt, revealing the scars on my waist. He looked up, his eyes lingering on my skin. Then he quickly grabbed his bag, his hand brushing against mine. I saw a flash of black lace panties with pink trim beneath his sweater. He must have seen me looking, because he immediately pulled his sweater down.
“T-thank you, Louis,” he said, adjusting his bag on his shoulder. “No problem, lo-Harry,” I muttered, cursing myself for nearly calling him ‘love’ again. Why did I keep doing that?