A/N: I'm so excited about this chapter. This is the chapter where Louis and Harry actually talk to each other for the first time. The scene has been replaying behind my eyelids in my sleep, and I am so anxious to get it down. This'll be a long chapter I can tell, since it'll be a while before Louis let's me get to that part. Anyway, I know you think I'm insane. I am, just a bit. But, I hope you enjoy this chapter.
This was such bullshit. Louis didn't want to do this shit. He opened the door to the black sedan open and threw his leather bag inside. He didn't want to go to school again. He eyed the driver as he pulled away from the house, and opened his mouth to tell the man to go any where but to the Academy, but he thought better of it. You could never trust employees. They would always end up telling their bosses when questioned, and Louis was one hundred percent sure that this man would be asked by his step-dad if he had actually taken Louis to school. Twenty minutes later, they pulled up into gated buildings. It was surrounded by trees, and Louis winced. There was no way he could just leave this place. It was like a prison for God's sake. He sighed and crossed his arms over his chest after he tugged on his tie to loosen it a bit. It felt like a noose on his neck if he was honest. His whole outfit felt suffocating. As soon as the car stopped, the driver got out and walked around to open the door for him, closing it shut as Louis stepped out. He stood by the car until the teen walked through the doors of the establishment, as he had been instructed by Mr. Conway. Now he knew why. The boy was pulling out his his crisp white shirt from his trousers and loosening his tie even further, popping the top button open as he pushed open one of the doors. He slung his leather bag over one shoulder and looked on with distaste as he watched at all the kids look at him.
This would just be fantastic, he thought to himself as he walked toward the dean's office to get his schedule. Maths, History, French, Theater, Music, Physics, holy shit. What more shit can you pile on all of this? Louis thought as he walked to his first class, ignoring and pretty much glaring at everyone who even dared turn towards him.
He walked into the first classroom and looked at his new Rolex. He had three minutes until the bell rang. He was early. He looked up and saw that everyone pretty much was already seated, and as he walked toward the back, he noticed how all the girls turned to stare at him as he passed, already swooning for his I-don't-give-two-fucks attitude. He resisted the urge to scoff as he looked at their preppy skirts and navy sweaters. God he hated this. He pulled out a notebook and a pen, deciding that he might as well look as if he was interested so the professor wouldn't fuck with him. Just then a woman walked in, her honey hair combed to the side, a pair of glasses perched precariously on the tip of her nose as she set down a cup of Starbucks on the desk. She looked up and walked to the door to close it just as the bell rang, and the chatter in the classroom died down just a bit. The only people talking now were the girls who kept turning around to give him appraising looks. He made sure his face was blank. He didn't want to come off as an asshole, even though he didn't really care what people thought, but he didn't want to seem inviting too. He also hoped that he didn't have to talk because he knew that Americans died for British accents.
"Mr. Tomlinson," the woman at the desk said. Louis leaned back in his seat and raised his hand lethargically.
"Here," he said softly.
"Could you walk up to the front of the class and just introduce yourself. Where you're from, if you have any siblings, hobbies..." Louis really didn't like taking shit from anybody, and he had half a mind to just send the woman to hades. What was the point of him introducing himself. One didn't come to school to make friends... Well, he didn't. No one gave a fuck about his life, and if they did it was because they were nosy bastards. He got up anyways. He was here. Might as well make this whole experience less painful. He got up, and just to be an ass, he sat at the corner of the professor's desk, loosening his tie even further, if that was even possible. He gave a cocky nod.
"Louis Tomlinson, I'm from Doncaster, I have four sisters, and I fucking hate school," he winked at one of the girls as they gasped and whipped their head toward the professor, who stared at him wide eyed. He stood up and walked back to his desk, and sat down with a plop. He shouldn't have done it really. But he couldn't bring himself to care.
"Language, Mr. Tomlinson. I don't know if they allowed this back in England, but we sure don't here. I expect to see a one thousand word paper on the importance of use of proper language," she said to him sternly. Louis smirked. She could expect all she wanted. As the class went on, and they learned about trigonometry, which Louis knew all about, he found out that the professors name was Ms. Tillman, and that she was quite good at her job. Everyone loved her, and at some point or the other, Louis might have found himself scribbling notes down in his notebook. When the bell rang, he headed toward the history department.
When he walked into this classroom, he saw that the four boys Arthur had introduced to him were sitting on one side of the room. Then he saw tables were long and were set so that everyone had to look at each other, leaving a big space in the middle with a wooden desk. This would be interesting. Louis decided to sit on one corner, and hoped to hell that he looked formidable enough that no one would want to sit next to him. He stared at the far wall for a few minutes, not even noticing when the bell rang until he fell a little poke on his arm. He turned his head, and next to him sat a blonde girl with a tiny smile and big blue eyes. She was tall, lanky, and she blushed as he showed no expression on his face.
Now, Louis having four little sisters, he always had a soft spot for shy girls. Well. All girls really. He wanted to make them all feel at ease. He wanted them to feel beautiful, if even for a second. He wanted them to feel like someone cared, because he hoped that someday, someone would do the same for his sisters. So with that thought, he let his face slacken, his blue eyes to sparkle and he smiled his I'm-an-angel smile.
"Louis Tomlinson?" She asked shyly from under a curtain of hair as she leaned down to scratch her leg.
"I see the news travel fast in this school," Louis said with an eye-roll.
"Oh, I didn't hear about you today," she said as she pulled out a notebook and set a pen on top of it on the table.
"Oh?" Louis said, half interested.
"My parents were at your parents' party on Saturday," she said as she turned so that she was facing him in her chair. She stuck out her long fingered hand at him, and he shook her cool palm in his rough one. "Annie Johnson," she said with a smile.
"Well, Annie, I'd tell you my name but seems like you know it already," he said coyly. She giggled and that's the last they talked as the bell rang in the next instant and he was introduced, again, to the whole class. This time, without having to walk to the front. As the time went by, Louis grew more restless and bored, earning funny little looks from Annie, and more than an unnoticeable glare from the professor. He looked at the table opposite him, and his eye caught a certain cloud of curly hair. Louis leaned back, putting his hand under his chin as he observed the teen from under his lashes.
The boy looked up at the board and back down quickly as he scribbled on his notebook furiously. Louis snorted quietly. So he was one of those guys. Those goody two shoes that had to do their homework before they could eat dinner and went to sleep before eight o clock. He looked like it too. His tie was perfectly straight, his white shirt didn't have a single wrinkle and it was perfectly tucked into his trousers, which were starched to the point that Louis thought they would crackle under the touch. Louis squinted. His hands were big, and if he wasn't mistaken, they looked manicured. Of course. Louis looked away, but not before the blond boy next to Harry caught Louis staring at his friend with disdain. Niall shook his head and dismissed the thought. He was probably just imagining things. No one hated Harry. Well, no that was a lie. He was sure that there was someone in the whole world that did, but Niall himself had never met anyone. Girls wanted to be with him and boys wanted to be him. It was just how things were. Harry wasn't exactly the most popular, but he was amongst the group. He looked at Louis more closely. He had stubble and his uniform was just all sorts of fucked up. There was something about him that made Niall just a little curious though. He couldn't quite pinpoint exactly what it was, but he decided that he would talk to the Englishman next time he could. Liam jabbed him in the arm with his pen and motioned for him to pay attention to the lesson. Niall gave a sigh and thanked The Lord that he had Liam to keep him focused. Or else he would probably end up as a hobo after flunking out of school. Or maybe not, he thought with a chuckle as he faced Mr. Rodriguez, who was talking about the New York's stock market crash of 1929...
This was such bullshit. It was about the hundredth time Louis had thought this in just a couple hours, and as he looked down at his watch, he scowled when he saw that he had another three hours of this torture. Now, before you start thinking that Louis was a lazy bum, then you should know that, he was, in fact one. But that's beside the point. Louis knew that he was smart, he just hated school. Period. That was one of the reasons why he had quit school two years ago... Well, that and because he had to help is mum with money and taking care of the girls. But again, that was besides the point at the moment. He had gotten through lunch, which had been interrupted by a countless amount of people introducing themselves to him, as if he cared, honestly. They had seen he was wearing headphones, but he guessed that the universal sign that said "don't fuck with me right now" wasn't understood by all these high end, high maintenance blokes. He had gotten through two more classes, but that was all he could deal with at the moment. He didn't give a fuck. He walked into the big bathroom with a look around him and pulled out his phone as he made an agile jump up to the tall windowsill. It looked out into the garden, which was empty since everyone was supposed to be in class. Well, except for one class, which was doing yoga or some sort. Yoga, for crying out loud! Was that even a real class? He shook his head and looked down at his phone. Louis's mouth twisted as he looked down at the scree. He had been on it so much that the battery was down to nine percent. Great. What was he supposed to do now?
His eyes darted to the bag at his side, which was squished up against the window, and he decided that he might as well draw a little. Louis wasn't a big artist or anything, and the furthest his artistic abilities went was stick figures. But when he was bored, he liked to doodle, and usually, his doodling turned out pretty neat. Louis was more one to take pictures. It was one of his secret fascinations. The way that a photographer could turn one scene and make it look like another. Different angles made you see different things, different lights. Nothing was what it seemed, but what you made of it, what you chose to see. It was all so fascinating. He had always wanted a camera, and more than that, he had wanted lessons that taught him the tricks, but of course the opportunities and the means had never presented themselves to him, and now that desire had been pushed to the back of his mind. But really, he should start thinking more about his future. Every time he thought about the subject, his stomach sank and his mouth went dry. What was he doing with his life? He was turning twenty in December. What did he have to show for these twenty years? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Yes, he had a big trust fund now, but what had he done to earn that? Again, nothing. He didn't really want to take anything from Arthur, for Louis grudgingly admitted that the bloke was nice. He felt uncomfortable in theses new clothes, in that big house, with all those people doing everything for him. It just didn't feel right. Well, who doesn't dream about being rich, Louis thought to himself as he drew lines on the notebook on his lap. Everyone does, he answered to himself. But one thing was dreaming about it, and then achieving that dream with your own work and struggle, and it was a whole other thing to get it by your mum remarrying. It seemed wrong.
As he drew a squiggly, he wondered what Stan and Hannah were doing. They had been his closest friends since he could remember. Hannah being his first girlfriend and the person that had helped him understand and accept who he was, and Stan being the boy that had been his partner in crime for every mischief along the way. He missed them a lot. It wasn't very easy for Louis to open up, and that made it a tad difficult for him to make friends. The only friend he seemed to have nowadays was his sister Lottie, and his mother, of course, but he wasn't talking too much to her. He wasn't ready to tell her yet exactly how he felt. Louis knew that if he let himself tell Jay, he would probably become an angry blubbering mess, and if the glow that followed Jay around every where she went was any indication, his mum was too happy to be upset with his feelings.
His mum, Louis thought with a sigh. He had always thought about her as a real life hero since he was a little boy. She was a nurse... Well, she used to be, and Louis had always looked up to her. He had admired her ability to take care of five children despite long hours and extra shifts. He was her best friend and she was his, and it made him a little sad that they were having this fallout because he was acting like such a twat. It wasn't fair to her. He would have to talk to her seriously one of these days...
Louis looked up as the door to the bathroom was pushed open and no other than Harry Styles walked in. He walked into the bathroom without noticing that he was there, and walked straight up to the urinal. Louis looked down at his notebook as he heard the swish of a zipper, and the soft stream of urine hitting the marble. When the boy was done, he tucked and turned around, walking toward the sinks. When he was in front of the mirror, he still hadn't noticed Louis and only as he was adjusting his curls did he look over his shoulder at the reflection of the boy who sat on the windowsill, his upper body bent over his lap with a pencil in his hand. And Harry couldn't help himself. He gave a loud snort.
"Of course," he said loudly, his tone sounding standoffish to his own ears. He didn't really care. "Skipping on your first day. Figures," he said as he turned back to the mirror. Louis looked up, his mouth popping open and his eyes going wide. It looked like New York's heartthrob had a sour side. Louis closed his mouth and readjusted his face, outrage taking surprise's place. Honestly, who the fuck did he think he was...
"Mind your own business, sunshine," he said as he looked at the younger boy, eyes narrowed.
"Don't tell me what to do," he said. "And my name is Harry," he turned around and crossed his arms in front of his chest as he looked at Louis with a look of antipathy.
"I don't give two fucks what your name is," Louis said as he jumped down the windowsill. He shrugged of the blazer that was getting on his nerves and rolled the sleeves to his forearms. Harry blinked. No one had been this rude to him before. He decided to take a different approach. He didn't even know why he was talking with the guy. He should have washed his hands and gotten the hell out. But this guy... This guy just rubbed him the wrong way. Something about his attitude. His attitude which gave the whole world a "I don't care", made Harry want to get to him. He wasn't about to analyze the urge too deeply at the moment, but it was something that would keep him awake some nights in the near future. At that moment however, he chose to scrutinize Louis more closely. His eyes were an interesting combination of gray and blue, framed by eyelashes that should have certainly looked feminine due to their length, but didn't. His face was angular, and chiseled, and Harry detected stubble on his chin. His shirt was untucked, his hair was a mess, just like the first time they had met, and again, Harry felt that annoyance in the pit of his stomach.
"Does Arthur know that he's paying all this money to have you skip class?" Harry said. He would have felt bad when he saw the other boy wince, but the expression was gone so quickly that Harry thought maybe he had just imagined it. Louis took a step forward, and Harry made himself stand his ground.
"I said," Louis pronounced through gritted teeth, watching Harry intently with a curiously blank expression that made Harry want to prod harder. "Mind your own business," he paused and they stared each other down, the air beginning to crackle with tension. "Don't you have some professor's ass too kiss, or some panties to get wet or some shit?" Louis asked with a sneer. Harry tensed and dropped his arms to his side.
"More productive than what you do," he said with a scowl, his green eyes narrowing to match the other boy's.
"You don't know shit about me," Louis said as he took another step forward.
"I don't need to," Harry said. "I can see you're an absolute asshole, and that you don't deserve to be here," with that said, the curly haired boy walked out the door, his hands shaking. What the hell had that been? He had never been so rude to anyone in his life. He wasn't a snob. To the contrary. He was the less snob-y person in the whole school. So what had possessed him to act like this toward a man he had just barely met. He ran a hand through his hair, making his curls stand up on top of his head in a funny disarray before he smoothed them back down. This was so unlike him. A pair of blue eyes flashed in his head, and his heart stopped beating so fast as he saw the antagonism in the stormy depths. As he walked through the door of the classroom, he decided to push the whole incident to the back of his mind to look at later.
In the bathroom, Louis leaned on his arms on the sink counter, staring at his own reflection, which was void of any emotion. He took a shaky breath and knew that Harry had no idea how close to home he had hit...
A/N: Holy shit. What the fuck was that... I dunno. Someone help me. I can't. I know what's gonna happen next chapter and asdfghjkl. Anyways. Hope you liked this one (: