“I hate him.”
“No you don’t.”
“I hate him.”
“You love him.”
“I hate you.”
“You love me.”
“No, I - okay, yeah I love you.”
Zayn showed his teeth in a cheesy, squinty-eyed grin before smacking a sloppy kiss to Louis’ cheek.
Louis hoped the kid in the skull-patterned headscarf saw. He hoped he was homophobic and would feel uncomfortable, maybe enough to get out from under their favorite tree. But then again, Louis figured that anyone strumming a ukulele whilst kicking his bare feet back and forth would be anything but homophobic. Was that being stereotypical? Probably. But from the looks of it, that curly kid could get a shoe thrown at his head and say “Thank you, I seem to have misplaced my own shoes. Have a blessed day.”
Congregating around the university courtyard were groups of students either walking to class or hanging out during their free time. Some littered the old wooden benches, while others sat in clusters on the freshly-mowed lawn, but all Louis could focus on was hippy curly kid. Why was he so hippy? Why was he so curly?
“Can you stop glaring at him?” Zayn said, nose wrinkled and eyebrows knitted.
Louis snapped his head back toward Zayn, who was stopped a few feet in front of him on the sidewalk. “Wassat?” he slurred, leaving his mouth slightly parted. Zayn rolled his eyes before reaching out to grab Louis by the bicep. “Ooh, yes good. Be gay with me,” he said while smiling down at his friend’s grip. “That’ll show him.”
While Zayn tugged him forward toward the Writing and Literature building, Louis snuck one last glance at curly cue. He was stroking the back of his ukulele against his cheek with his eyes closed.
“You win this round, young Mick Jagger. You win this round.”
[hannah montana transition music]
Hipsters, Hippies, or Pathetic Posers
by Louis Tomlinson
Do you find yourself wearing over-sized, non-prescription glasses? Have you been stealing trousers from your nan because their waistline goes up to your nipples? Are your opinions on feminism angrily vocalized every time Blurred Lines comes on the radio? If you answered yes to any of these questions, then you might consider yourself a hipster…
“Louis, this is terrible,” Zayn said as he hunched over Louis’ MacBook.
With an indignant huff, Louis whirled around in his chair to scowl up at his bestfriend. “Excuse me?” he spat, flinching backward after realizing how close their faces were.
“Yeah, hipsters don’t even listen to the radio,” Zayn said. He leaned his face closer toward the screen before shaking his head slowly. “You fucking love hipsters, mate. You love them so much that it physically pains me. I feel like I’m watching a lion cub try to go hunting on its own only to be eaten alive by a family of elephants or something.”
Louis sighed with his lips curled in between his teeth. “It’s a shame you aren’t an environmental studies major.”
Right as Zayn threw Louis back a sleepy-eyed shrug, the door of the classroom flew open.
The first thing Louis saw was a pair of beaten-up, brown leather boots. Though hipster kid had rarely worn shoes, Louis never could have forgotten those barely intact flaps of leather. Nobody else would have been caught dead in them.
Scanning upward from there, Louis could have easily missed the two long sticks that were somehow supporting the rest of the kid’s body. And just out of curiosity, Louis let his eyes glance over the boy’s crotch to see if any bulge was gasping for air behind the tight, black denim, but there was nothing there. Louis then decided to call lanky hipster kid Tucker for the time being.
His gaze continued to travel toward his torso, which was decorated in a baggy white t-shirt and topped off with a loose, red-checkered flannel. Once Louis saw the springy ringlets that were poking out from the guy’s head-scarf, he became sure of who he was dealing with. Zayn did too, as he promptly placed a hand over Louis’ shoulder as if to hold him back.
“No,” Louis muttered, eyes searing into the newcomer’s unnaturally thin eyebrows. The boy looked around the room with his lip caught between his teeth. No professor was present to greet him or announce him or whatever, because this wasn’t as much of a class as it was a club. A club that Louis had unofficially ran ever since the publication of his campus-famous satirical poem about why not to trust chemistry majors.
And now it was being invaded by students who were only interested in buying old-looking journals from the checkout line of TJ Maxx so they can write a few lines in them (probably about war or love or something) and then post a picture for their Tumblrs.
Disgusting. Just fucking use Google Docs, Tucker.
“Hi, I’m Harry.”
“Just fucking use Google Docs, Harry.”
“I’m uh - wait, what?”
Louis froze, his entire face motionless in a stern scowl except for an obvious twitch in his right eye.
“Excuse him,” Zayn said, squeezing roughly around Louis’ shoulder until his face fell back into an expression that a sane human being would wear.
Penis-less skinny jean kid - Harry, he could now be called - raised a hand to adjust his headscarf. He spared one quick, confused glance to Louis before looking back at Zayn. “Yeah, uhm. Right, so I’m a sophomore. Finally ready to get involved and what not, so I figured I would give literary magazine a shot,” he said hesitantly, his pink lips twisting in all sorts of puffy shapes.
Literary magazine, Louis mocked in his head. Just say lit mag. Spare us a few years of your manchild voice scraping our eardrums please.
It took about five seconds for Louis to realize that both Zayn and Harry were staring at him expectantly. Right, he forgot he was sort of in charge.
“Yeah, right," he began, scratching at his scalp. "I uh... I don’t know, Henry -”
“Yeah, Helga, I don’t know. We’re pretty full, so…”
While Louis tried his best to give a sincere look of regret, Harry turned around to look at the two other boys in the classroom. “Oh,” he said before jutting out his lip and pointing his toes inward. “That’s okay. Thanks for your time.” He gave a single nod and a wave before spinning around on his heels and heading toward the door.
Zayn slapped Louis on the arm, causing the smaller boy to let out a piercing shriek. “Wait. Harry,” he called in a breathy falsetto. The tall boy whirled around, his flannel blowing backward. “You can stay,” Louis said, his own words strangling him much like the aftershock of Zayn’s hand.
[hannah montana transition music]
"You do realize how fucking annoying lit mag is gonna be now, do you?" Louis took a long drag of the cigarette before handing it off the Zayn.
"Like it was perfect before?" he said with a snort, rolling the fag between his middle and index finger. "All Niall does is write haikus about his breakfast, Liam still hasn't figured out how to spell breakfast, and you stink up the whole room 'cause you refuse to shower with your team. Harry isn't gonna make it much worse, bro."
Louis huffed. "Okay, first of all," he started while Zayn puffed a cloud of smoke in his face. He batted it away with a dramatic cough. "First of all, I can't shower around Bobby Parsons without getting an awkward boner. You know that."
Zayn nodded consideringly.
"And second of all, are you really looking forward to reading his sonnets about daffodils and how they say a lot about world hunger?" Zayn shrugged and hummed melodiously as if he was actually in favor of daffodils. "No. No, you don't," Louis said while snatching the cigarette from Zayn's lips.
It fumbled in his grasp and eventually fell to the ground, where Louis had to crush it with his foot. "Louehyouidiot!" Zayn cried, looking as though his newborn child had just fallen from a six story window.
"Sorry, bubs. I'll buy the next pack?" Louis said with a nervous grin. Zayn exhaled into a slump as he pouted down at Louis' foot. "Really, I will."
"No, you won't."
Louis sighed. "Yeah, well..."
A set of footsteps crunching over the wet pavement stopped a few feet in front of where Louis and Zayn were sitting on a bench. "Hey, gents," a low voice greeted.
Zayn looked up first. "Oh, hey Harry," he said through an incredulous chuckle. "What's up?"
Louis' entire face tightened as he kept his eyes locked on the ground.
"I was just going for a walk between classes. Got an hour before Twentieth Century Poetry," said Harry, who was wearing a brown coat with a wool collar. Louis was still glaring at the boy's boots, though, unwilling to look anywhere near the his face.
Zayn nodded. "Ah, good class," he said. Louis wanted to slap his friend for encouraging such behavior. Harry didn't care for poetry. He just cared for strutting around and telling people he did. Louis knew these sort of things. It was all in the boots.
"Hi, Louis," Harry said, ducking down slightly as if to place himself in Louis' line of vision.
Louis tightened his mouth even more and then looked up. "Hey, mate," he said with dead eyes.
Harry gave him a nod before looking between both Louis and Zayn. "Uhm, you guys smoking?" he asked before bouncing up on his toes.
Zayn turned to Louis, his mouth twisted in an irritated glare. "Well, we were," he said before turning back to shrug at Harry. "Sorry, man, we'd offer you one if we had any left, but -"
"Oh no no, that's okay. I wasn't interested," Harry said with a hand over his heart. Louis quirked an eyebrow. "I don't smoke. My lungs and I have a loving relationship, so yeah.. no."
Louis squinted at Harry so hard that he was just a blur of stick-like limbs.
"I much prefer marihuana," Harry added, lifting a hand and letting it drop back down at his thigh.
Marihuana, Louis thought. And I suppose he refers to fags as "smoking tobacco."
Zayn shifted in his seat. "Right," he said, narrowing his eyes and nodding up at Harry. "Well, we smoke pot too, I mean..."
"We grow pot," Louis added with a snort before offering Zayn a fistbump. Harry looked surprised by that, and Louis wanted to thump him in the nose for looking so damn innocent. Louis nodded impatiently just to get the half-shocked, half-disapproving look off of the kid's face.
"Wow, nice," Harry said, blinking into an easy nod. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, still nodding...still being a fucking idiot.
Sophomores, Louis thought bitterly. What are they good for?
Absolutely nothing, Louis imagined Zayn thinking in a telepathic bestfriend message.
When Fags Drop Your Fags: A Haiku
by Zayn Malik
Fumbling then falling
Landing with a crash and burn
Searing through my soul
[sad hannah montana transition music]
The next time Louis saw Harry was at an improv show. Louis nearly screamed when he saw him and almost whipped out his swiss army knife when the kid started shuffling down his row.
“This seat taken?” Harry asked, gesturing to the open seat to Louis’ left with an eager smile.
From where he was slouched back in the red-fabric chair, Louis looked up at Harry with a blank expression. He shrugged and gave the boy a flat “No, go ahead.”
Once Harry sat down, it didn’t take much longer for the lights to dim and the curtain to open. He was actually excited for this show, considering some of his friends were in it, and he also was looking to get back on stage within the next semester. Sure, Harry was there now, but Louis wasn’t gonna let some weird greasy guy get in the way of his fun.
“This gonna be a good show?" Harry whispered, leaning in toward Louis.
Louis leaned away from him. "Yeah?" he said, keeping his eyes trained on the stage. A pale boy in a blonde wig strutted out on stage. "That's my mate Stan. Real funny guy."
Clasping his hands in his lap, Harry gave a slow nod. "Oh, so it's one of those kinds of shows," he said.
Louis looked at him and saw a condescending smirk painted across the boy's face. Though he wasn't surprised, he was very irritated. Did Harry have something against comical crossdressing? Comedy in general?
"What, were you expecting some brooding monologue?" Louis asked, squinting his eyes while keeping them trained on the performers. "Recited by some bloke in a black turtle neck?"
Louis used his mind to construct an imaginary brick wall between them.
The rest of the show was hilarious. Stan ended up performing a waltz with his other buddy Aiden, and the whole place was in hysterics. It wasn't just the fact that they were being idiots but more so that they were being idiots off the top of their heads. Every scene ended with a chorus of howls from every audience member. Well, except for Harry. Not that Louis was sneaking glances the whole time to make sure or anything.
"Did you really not like it?" Louis couldn't help but ask. They had stood up from their seats and were following the slow hurd back to the lobby.
Harry made a noise of uncertainty. "Eh, it was alright," he said, shoving past Louis to get farther up the aisle.
"Alright?" Louis replied, yelling now due to the roar of voices filling the theater. Harry was no longer facing him, so Louis shouldered past the lanky kid and spun around.
Sparing him one quick glance before eyeing the floor and marching forward, Harry gave a curt "Yeah," before quickening his pace toward the exit.
"Well, that's stupid," Louis said once they were both at the threshold. Harry spun around to face him, frozen in his tracks. Louis probably shouldn't have said that. He should probably go back to the dorm. Zayn was probably waiting for him with ramen noodles and Arrested Development on the Netflix queue.
"Listen, I didn't mean to like... offend you and your friends, but..." Harry began before walking forward.
Louis jogged to his side, dodging a seven foot basketball player and his probably-drunk girlfriend. "But what?" he said before getting jostled into Harry's bicep.
They reached outside, the autumn chill slapping every inch of exposed flesh. Groups of jocks and hipsters and stoners cluttered the lawn, and it was as if Harry was trying to escape into them, but Louis wasn't letting him. "I'm just saying," he began, only twisting back to face Louis for a second. "There was nothing smart about it. Cheap jokes, sexual innuendos, no deeper meaning -"
"You just - Are you kidding me?" Louis said, hating the way he was practically chasing after the kid.
They reached a sidewalk, dimly lit by street lights. Harry had slowed down, and Louis was now at his side again.
"Do you ever just enjoy things?" Louis said, voice halting with a crack. He cleared his throat with a hand to his chest. "Does every artistic experience have to be unbearable, or..."
"Louis. That was unbearable."
"It was not," he argued, disguising his desperation with a laugh. His steps got louder, and his body leaned in closer to Harry's. He probably looked crazy, like one of those local drug-addicts that spent his evenings coaxing college students into his strategically-located apartment.
Harry stopped walking. "Louis, relax," he said. Looking down at the frantic boy in front of him, he shook his head with a sigh. "Why are you following me?"
Louis jerked backwards, hoping the nighttime darkness was disguising the burning red in his cheeks. "I'm not following you," he said abruptly, his irritated squint widening. "We're just on a walk."
Harry managed to stuff his sasquatch hands in his skin-tight pockets. "A walk," he said.
"Yes. A walk."
Amidst the silence, Louis heard distanced laughter, a car motor, and his own panting.
"Well," Harry said, eyes flicking up to the building behind Louis. "This is my dorm building, so I'm afraid our walk is coming to an end."
Harry shouldered past him. "Bye, Louis."
[hannah montana transition music]
Saturday morning practice was brutal. Louis' coach seemed to have been going through a rough breakup, which only meant twenty suicides in the middle of practice. In addition to that, Bobby Parsons had gotten a haircut. Needless to say, Louis' coach had to scold him several times about keeping his eye on the ball.
Things only worsened when they were practicing penalties, and Louis caught a glimpse of brunette curls poking out from a bush.
"Fucking hell?" he muttered to himself as he placed the ball behind the white line. He rested his foot on top of it but stumbled once the bush rustled.
Well, now at least he didn't have to feel embarrassed about chasing Harry back to his dorm, right? But why was he here? Was he about to emerge in protestation of organized sports? Was he going to ask to join the team (It's possible, okay... alright, no it's not)?
"Tomlinson," a booming voice called. Louis looked over his shoulder to find his coach charging toward him. "Are you gonna kick the ball, or are you gonna sprinkle your pixie dust on it so it can fly into the net?"
Humoring his coach with a forced laugh, Louis backed up about five feet behind the ball. "Sorry, Coach. I was just distracted. There was a ... a..." Louis pointed toward where Harry was hiding.
"A bush?" the coach interrupted, hands digging into his own hips. "You were distracted by a bush, Tomlinson?"
Louis laughed again, this time more shakily. "No no, uhm." He dropped his hand to his side. "Nevermind," he said before exhaling audibly and preparing to kick the ball.
He jogged lightly in place for three steps, eyes trained on the goal. Against his will, his eyes focused through the netting and onto a brown boot poking out from the green bush. An involuntary scowl appeared on Louis' face as he ran forward and kicked the ball.
It soared into the air, a line drive. Landing his right foot back on the turf, Louis watched as the ball shot up, up, and over the fence.
Ignoring his teammates' round of snickers, Louis observed it arch down toward the woods. He finally joined in on the snickers when he heard a faint squawk come from the bush.
"You think missing an open goal is funny?" the grumpy man barked. "Is it gonna be funny in our match this week? Are you gonna yuck it up while you're getting ready to run more suicides? ... Huh?"
Louis spared one more glance to the rustling bush while biting down on his lip. He looked back to his coach, shaking his head urgently and muttering "Sorry, uh... no, coach. I just -"
The coach sighed with his arms crossed over his chest. "The bush?" he said, one eyebrow arched.
Louis shrugged with a light chuckle.
"Hit the showers."
[hannah montana transition music]
Louis plopped down on the lower bunk after picking up his plush spider man pillow and chucking it on the floor.
"I swear to god that fucking kid better be prepared to run suicides in my place if he fucks up another one of my practices," Louis muttered, letting his legs hang off the bed while crossing his arms in his lap.
He heard a groan from the upper bunk, which only meant Zayn was awake and eager to help his best friend with all his troubles.
"Right? And like, it's not my fault we let a nutter join our club and that he's clearly obsessed with me," he continued, earning another groan from his lump of a roommate. Or maybe it was a laugh. Louis couldn't imagine what would be so funny, though.
Louis sighed, knocking the toes of his cleats together repeatedly. "I just want nothing to do with him, you know? He's weird."
Louis heard rustling from the top bunk accompanied by a muffled giggle and a short breath.
"What're you..." Louis stood up from the bed before spinning around to grab the sides of the wooden ladder. He climbed the steps, landed on all fours, and realized that there were two bodies lying next to him.
One of the bodies shifted, and a disheveled quiff poked out from the Avengers duvet. "Morning, Lou," a sleepy Zayn Malik greeted with barely open eyes and a toothy grin.
Louis' mouth dropped open. Who is that? he mouthed before the second blob shot up in the air, and a shirtless Liam Payne was smiling back at him. "Oh my god, Liam?" Louis practically squealed before nearly falling off the bed. He was already basically lying on top of Zayn - they both were- so getting shoved off from six feet in the air was very possible.
"What's up, Louis?" Liam said, wiping a hand over his tired face.
Zayn stroked a lazy hand over Liam's elbow. "Don't ask him that," he grumbled. "Unless you want him to spend the rest of the morning complaining about that sophomore kid."
"Oh, Harry?" Liam instantly perked up. "That kid is ace. He wrote his first piece on Buddhism...I love Buddha, what a guy."
Rolling over to his right side, Zayn threw Liam a suspicious glare. "What do you know about Buddha?" he asked with a hint of a smirk.
Liam shrugged. "Not much. I did sit on his lap once as a kid, though. Such a nice guy. Real jolly too, you know?"
Zayn blinked a few times before turning back to Louis, who was already beaming at him.
"Anyway," Louis said before clearing his throat. He looked at Liam with a tilted head. "So forgive me if this is offensive in any way, but I thought you were straight," he said, looking at Liam, then at Zayn, and then back at Liam.
The muscular boy leaned back on his elbows with a chuckle. "Yeah, well... so did I," he said before throwing Zayn a smirk. "But then -"
"No no, I really don't need details," Louis said, starting to crawl to toward the wooden ladder. "You two just - you just ... yeah."
Zayn hummed as he rolled back over to face Louis. "We'd invite you to stay and cuddle, but you smell like an arse crack, so."
Louis noticed Liam stiffen in the corner of his eye as he climbed down the ladder. He grabbed his towel and a bottle of soap and left the room as he heard Liam say "Did mine really smell that bad?"
[hannah montana transition music]
“So you’ve memorized the play, right?” Louis asked, squeezing Niall’s shoulder. “This isn’t exhibition round anymore, Ni. This is the playoffs. You understand that, right?”
Louis adjusted his white jersey, smoothing over the number 17 as he looked straight into Niall’s eyes. The boy looked confused. “You do know I’m not actually on the team, right?” Niall said with narrowed eyes. “I just bring you your water, I -”
“Focus, Niall,” Louis said, pulling his friend in closer so that their foreheads were nearly touching. “This play is just as important as the ones I’m running on the field.” Niall nodded slowly. “Recite it back to me, so I know you’ve been paying attention.”
After shifting his eyes to the turf before looking back up at Louis, Niall released a long exhale. “Okay,” he began, squeezing the soccer ball between his hands. “I’m supposed to look in the stands for that Harry kid. If he’s not there, I look in the bushes. And if at any point I find him, I’m supposed to tackle him to the ground and fart on his face,” he said, the last part sounding like a question.
Louis kissed him on the top of his head before trotting off to join his team on the field. “You’ll do great,” he called over his shoulder.
Louis knew Niall wasn’t the most trustworthy when it came to carrying out plans that affected his entire football season, but he had no other choice. Zayn hadn’t come to one of his games since a ball came flying at him and knocked his cigarette from his hand (he really had bad luck with that), and Niall was at least somewhat part of the team, so Louis would settle.
The game began within the next twenty minutes, and it was going well so far. With a minute left in the first half, there was still no sign of Harry, and Louis was playing his ass off. He had been dodging defenders left and right, cutting open in just about every play, and assisted one of his team’s goals. He could only pray that nothing or no one would distract him for the remainder of the game.
“Anything?” he said to Niall after chugging half his water bottle. The half ended at a score of 3-3, and though Louis’ team wasn’t winning, he knew they could pull as long as they stayed focused. But for Louis, staying focused meant no distractions from curly-headed hipsters.
Niall shook his head, all quick and business-like. “No, sir,” he said with his hands on his hips. He then tilted his head to the side and let his hands fall by his hips. “Well, I did tackle one guy I thought was Harry, but it turned out to be an orthodox jew, so…”
“I admire your effort,” Louis said, patting his friend on the back. “Stay tough out there, okay? It’s all about defense.”
Niall nodded. “Got it, Coach,” he said before receiving a slap on the ass from Louis and scurrying off.
For the remainder of half-time, Louis joined his team in a huddle next to their bench. They listened to their coach growl at them for not marking up and missing open shots, and they offered their own words of encouragement afterward. Once Louis treated them with one of his famous “We bust ours, so we can kick theirs” speeches, they all broke out in a chorus of howls and barks before hustling back onto the field.
The opposing team came out with a fire under their asses, which didn’t bode well for Louis’ team. But with heavy communication and a strong defense, they were able to shut them down for the next twenty-five minutes.
The ball was at the other team’s goal, getting kicked back and forth between Bobby and the right-wing offender. Once a defenseman bolted toward Bobby, committing full throttle and leaving a huge gap in the field, Louis took that opportunity to rush the net.
He started jogging toward the left and then darted right, taking up the space the defender left open. “Right here, Bob,” he yelled as he sprinted towards the goal. Bobby jabbed at the ball, sending it just in front of Louis, who only took three more steps before kicking as hard as he could. The ball flew through the air, and all Louis could do was stare and hope.
It flew toward the top-left corner of the net, sending the goalkeeper into the air with both hands over his head. He couldn’t reach the ball and instead tumbled to the ground as it hit the back of the net.
Throwing his hands in the air, Louis spun around to get devoured by his entire team. He cheered along with them as he received a round of claps on the back and one on the ass (Hopefully from Bobby).
Louis’ team was up 4-3 with five minutes left in the game. Their defense remained strong, despite a few close calls by their net. Though Louis thought he may have busted a lung sprinting up and down the field (seriously, why did he choose to be a midfielder?), it proved to be worth it in the end.
The final whistle blew, and an entire herd of boys charged center field to form a howling dog-pile, chanting and cheering in each other's ears. A rush of relief cleansed Louis' inner body as he rolled around like an idiot with the rest of his team. They did it. They fucking did it.
After the game, with a semblance of victory still glowing around him, Louis decided to rush home and tell Zayn the good news. He planned to go out to eat with his team later, but right now he sort of just wanted to flop over into his bed and regain feeling in his legs.
As he made his way down the main road of campus, Louis felt the fall breeze brush over his bare arms, the remaining sweat on them making the chill even harsher. Realizing he had four more blocks to get to his dorm, Louis decided to duck into the campus book store to find himself a cheap jacket.
He pushed through the door, setting off the jingle bells that echoed throughout the entire store. "Hey, man," he said to the Asian kid at the front register before heading straight for the first clothing rack he saw.
He flipped through the sizes and then the price tags, eventually finding a ten pound navy jacket with their university's logo embroidered on the right breast. That'll do, he thought before walking it over to the register and slapping it down on the counter.
As the Asian kid rung him up, Louis kept himself busy by scanning over the front counter. He noticed the stupid(ly cute) animal pens filling up a mug that read "I Heart LDN." He saw Union Jack key chains and a miniature dart set with their rivals' logos coloring the board, but what caught Louis' attention most was a stack of his own magazine stood up against a wired frame.
He had completely forgotten it was Monday, publishing day. What with his involvement in the football playoffs, Louis had asked Zayn to take over for that week. He had shown him exactly where to go to get it bound and what type of paper to print on, but he forgot to tell Zayn that some things were better left unpublished.
Louis' chest clenched at the possibility of scrambled egg sonnets, typos, and vegan recipes polluting his precious magazine and frantically asked the Asian kid to add it to the total.
"That'll be 12.75," the kid said with a forced grin. He handed Louis the jacket, which Louis instantly through on, and slid the magazine across the counter. In return, Louis stuffed his hand in his bag to retrieve a few bills which he tossed onto the counter.
"Thanks, mate. Keep the change," Louis said as he grabbed the magazine and bolted out the door.
Starting down the sidewalk, Louis instantly began flipping through the magazine.
"When Fags Drop y- the fuck, Zayn?" he muttered under his breath as he crossed the street. He reached the back of the magazine without anything too alarming, but then he saw it: Harry's only prose piece, the title of which making him pivot on his heels and hasten toward the Writing and Literature building without a second thought.
Athletes, Mathletes, and the Actual Thinkers: An Essay
by Harry Styles
Though our bright campus takes great pride in both our academics and athletics, I think it is time for us to turn our focus where it matters: creativity. The maths department provides students with equations and formulas to solve problems, but what happens when their problems travel outside their range of solutions? What happens when they run out of handy dandy equations? Similarly, athletes are told to run around and kick a ball back and forth, and that alone will get them far in life. I send my heart out to these misled men and women, for they have devoted much of their time to a fruitless cause, whereas the creative minds of our great university will have a limitless supply of solutions for life’s inevitable problems. Physical fitness goes a long way, but if a “jock” found himself in a life-or-death battle of wits, then what good is his ability to kick a homerun? ...
[hannah montana transition music]
“What the fuck is this?” Louis said, storming through the classroom door and slamming the magazine on the wooden desk at which Harry was sitting. Louis’ shoulders were already heaving, his toes digging into the bottoms of his cleats.
Harry smiled up at him, the twinkle in his toothy smile matching the one in his eye, causing Louis to clench harder around his bag. “Did you like it?” he asked, eyes wide and expectant. “You helped me write it, so your opinion would mean a lot to me.” Harry closed his journal and spun around in his seat to face Louis square on.
If Harry didn’t keep his twig legs so close together all the time (like a fucking princess, really), Louis would have loved to use his crotch as a soccer ball. He would have loved to show him what dumb jocks were really capable of, but Louis wasn’t even sure if Harry had a set of balls to kick.
“Get on your feet, Styles,” he growled, eyes narrowed and head jerking side to side. He set his bag on the floor before taking one step toward Harry, who was standing up with his hands over his head.
“I’m not gonna fight you,” he said calmly, a breathy chuckle threaded in his voice. He lowered his hands at his sides but leaned in so that his he was glaring down at Louis through his lower lashes.
Hoping Harry wouldn’t notice from his angle, Louis raised himself onto his tip-toes, bringing the tip of his nose about two inches away from the taller boy’s. “What are you gonna do then?” he grumbled with his nose wrinkled in a snarl. “You gonna write about this in your journal? Tell the whole school how much of a brainless dick I am?”
Harry pursed his lips and squinted his eyes. “They don’t need me to tell them that,” he said, tilting his head patronizingly and joining his hands together behind his back.
It would have been too easy. With the way Harry stood so innocently and calmly, Louis could have clocked him between those bushbaby eyes of his without the boy even giving a flinch. It’s not like he would’ve fought back. He’s too much of a pink-petaled pansy for that. If Louis so much as poked him, he would publish an article about the prevalence of campus violence and organize a pacifism parade around Louis’ dorm building, and Louis didn’t want that.
What he did want, though, was for Harry to fight back. He needed it, otherwise Louis would keep pushing and pushing until he actually did punch Harry in the face. “What are you gonna do?” he repeated, this time with more bite.
Harry shrugged. “What do you want me to do?”
After looking away and then back at Harry with an irritated groan, Louis raised a clenched fist to his own hair before dropping it to his side. “What are you gonna do, Harry?” he said, inching his face even closer to Harry’s with his lower lip quivering.
“What do you want -”
Louis threw his hands forward onto Harry’s shoulders, his fingernails digging into the backs of them, earning a small gasp from the younger boy. He didn’t know what he was doing, knew very well that he shouldn’t shove the kid over his desk and onto the floor, but needed to do something.
They made eye contact. Harry’s eyes were wide, and Louis’ kept like daggers, but both their mouths had parted slightly. A few beats of silence went by - periodically interrupted by a pair of shaky breaths - and then Harry’s hands had found their way to Louis’ waist. As they clenched around the fabric of his football jersey, Harry’s shocked expression relaxed into an expectant stare. “What do you want me to do, Louis?” he said once more, seriously this time, his gaze shifting around Louis’ eyes, his cheekbones, and finally falling down to his lips.
Louis let out a frustrated grunt through his clenched teeth before using his grip on Harry’s shoulders to yank himself forward into his mouth. Their teeth clashed together first, the initial sting forcing a tight hiss out of Harry. But soon their lips closed around each others, meeting in a wet pressure that was nowhere near sweet and tender.
One of Louis’ hands remained on Harry’s shoulder, while the other scratched along his neck and landed underneath his headscarf - his stupid fucking headscarf. His nails dug deeper in Harry’s scalp as his lips rolled over his parted mouth, and he had absolutely no idea what was happening, but he needed more of it.
“What’s going on?” Harry mumbled into Louis’ mouth. His hands flattened against the smaller boy’s waist and gradually slid down the curve of his ass.
“You’re shutting the fuck up,” Louis said before biting roughly at Harry’s lower lip. He kept it between his teeth, let it stretch out as he pulled back, and then released it, leaving Harry with his swollen, red mouth hanging open stupidly wide.
The other boy nodded, dumbly and eagerly. Louis grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked on it until Harry was gasping with his eyes shut. He started to moan but immediately bit down on his lip.
“Good boy,” Louis said, smirking at Harry before lowering both hands to his chest. He circled roughly around the fabric of his t-shirt and then began to push forward, backing Harry up against the wall.
Harry’s eyes became hooded, and his head slung to the side as he looked down at Louis. After rubbing one more harsh circle around Harry’s nipple - which earned him a stifled whimper - Louis placed his hands on Harry’s shoulders before tuggingoff his flannel and throwing it on the floor.
Once Harry was left in just jeans and a t-shirt, Louis decided that he couldn’t stand his baby-smooth skin. He hated how fucking pristine he looked, and he needed to completely ruin that. Without much more hesitation, Louis snatched Harry’s wrist in his hand and pinned it against the wall. “A star tattoo?” he scoffed, squinting at the black ink on the underside Harry’s bicep. “I guess originality would be too much for your underdeveloped brain to handle, sophomore.”
Louis’ dick may have twitched at the reminder of their age difference, but even so, he disguised it by plunging forward to bite at Harry’s tattoo - his stupid, stupid star tattoo. He soothed over the deep bite marks with his tongue, which jabbed out from between his slimy, O-shaped lips.
He felt Harry’s other hand sink lower onto his ass and immediately slapped it away. He continued sucking at Harry’s arm but let out a breathy “Greedy” in response, to which Harry grabbed Louis’ hair and pulled him off.
“Stop being a bitch,” he snapped, his lips moving so quickly and angrily that it was all a sinful, red blur to Louis.
Taken aback by Harry’s sudden aggression, Louis only managed a small “Uhm” before Harry was spinning them around and pressing his shoulders into the wall.
He looked down at Harry’s hands and nearly whined at the way his palms could cup each shoulder, while his fingers were still long enough to touch the wall. It hurt, the way his shoulder blades were flush up against the drywall, but he couldn’t stop his cock from hardening in his sweatpants.
Harry leaned in close so that they were breathing each other in. His eyes locked with Louis’, a hostile hunger present in them. “You’re gonna have me,” he growled before letting his eyes drop down to the bulge forming in Louis’ sweats. “But I’m gonna have you as well.”
Louis narrowed his eyes incredulously but found himself nodding. Harry kissed him roughly, grabbing at his sides again. They traveled around to his back and then lower and lower into his waistband. Once Harry’s hands were each cupping one of Louis’ ass cheeks, he squeezed roughly, massaging with his thumbs.
Louis gasped into Harry’s mouth before sliding his tongue between his lips. After meeting him halfway so that their tongues were licking at each other and their lips were sliding across each other more roughly, Harry pushed his hips into Louis’.
The pressure of Harry’s cock against his own caused Louis’ entire body to clench. Harry’s hands squeezed harder around Louis’ tight ass, and his nails scraped needily across its soft skin. “Love your arse,” he groaned, breaking away from the kiss with a glob of saliva dripping from his lip. “Especially in your football kit.” He moaned into one more kiss before pulling away again. “Got hard every time I watched you play. Not as hard as I am right now though.”
“Yeah?” Louis panted, bucking his hips into Harry’s. He couldn’t help but notice how big Harry felt in his jeans. How long and thick the outline of his hard cock was and how much it would fill him up. “You want my arse?” he asked, dipping the tips of his fingers into Harry’s waistband. “Think you should fuck me right here against the wall?”
With a whine, Harry nodded frantically, still kneading Louis’ cheeks between his fingers.
“Yeah? Well, that’s not your decision to make, now is it Harry?” he said, sliding his hand deeper into the boy’s boxers. The back of his fingers trailed against his pubic hair and eventually reached the base of his cock.
“Then how do you want it,” Harry said through a shaky breath. His tone implied that he was trying his best to remain stern, not to appear weak under Louis’ need for dominance. But with Louis’ hand around his erection, he appeared to be having trouble focusing.
Louis removed his hand from Harry’s dick, causing the younger boy to release a borderline-pitiful whine. He then grabbed Harry’s wrists from behind him to get his hands off his ass and then marched over to the nearest desk. Harry whirled around to study Louis, who was now pulling out one of the wooden chairs and turning it to face Harry.
“What are you…”
Louis patted the seat. “Get naked, Styles.”
Harry quirked an eyebrow suspiciously, but his mouth twisted in a pleased smirk.
“Just sit down and look pretty, hippy boy. I’ll do the rest.”
Without missing a beat, Harry glided over to the chair. He sat down and balanced himself while sliding off his trousers. The tip of his cock was peaking out from the waistband of his tight, black boxers, and Louis had to bite down on his lip to keep from moaning. While Harry slipped off his t-shirt, Louis did the same. He then dug his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and shoved them and his sweats down to his ankles in one swift motion. Harry froze with his underwear halfway down his thighs.
“What… ever seen a dick before?" Louis quipped before widening his eyes. "Wait, please don’t tell me this is your first time, because I would rather you not have your first time with someone who hates your guts -”
“No no, I just…” Harry exhaled roughly before letting his eyes fall down to Louis’ stiff cock. “You have a pretty dick, that’s all.”
Louis bent one knee in toward the other as he twisted his hips around awkwardly. “Well, that’s a really weird thing to say,” he said, trying to move his head around to get Harry to stop staring at his junk.
Harry shrugged before looking back up at Louis and tilting his head. “So are you riding me? Is that what’s happening?” he said, bringing his hand to stroke lazily at his cock.
Louis rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I mean … if you want,” he said while walking over to the chair.
Harry grinned up at him. “Oh, so now it is what I want?” he chirped, the fluorescent classroom lights reflecting in his obnoxiously green eyes.
Louis huffed. “Just finger my arsehole, arsehole.”
Harry snorted before making grabby hands at Louis’ thighs, to which Louis responded by creeping forward so that his legs stood at either side of Harry’s. After raising a finger to his lips and sucking on all its length, Harry grabbed the back of Louis’ thigh with his other hand.
Louis lowered down into Harry’s lap, where the younger boy held up his fingers.
“Yeah?” Harry said, peering up at Louis through his eyelashes.
Louis nodded slowly before sinking down onto Harry’s middle finger. “Yeah,” he breathed, eyes fluttering shut as he clenched around it.
Cupping his free hand around one of his ass cheeks, Harry gaped at the sight of Louis fucking himself on his finger. He was so close to his cock that it twitched from the sheer proximity. Soon Louis would be riding it; Harry just needed to open him up first.
“More?” Harry offered, using his index finger to trace Louis’ rim as his middle finger continued to disappear inside of him.
Louis hissed before pressing his lips together and tilting his head back. “Make it two,” he said, moving his hips faster now.
With a haughty "Oh?" Harry obliged. His middle finger stretched open Louis' hole while he slid one more in. After moving them both in and out once, he added another, making Louis whine from the back of his throat.
With three fingers now inside him, Louis bent his knees slowly at first, his thighs pulsing with every movement.
Harry breathed shakily. "Your lower body strength is impressive," he said, chuckling to cover his genuine appreciation. He slid his hand to the back of Louis' thigh, where his hamstrings were becoming prominent.
"Two minute wall sits," Louis managed between pants. "Every day at practice."
Harry hummed. "And that works out your bum too?" he said, gliding his hand to the round curve of Louis' ass.
Louis rolled his eyes as Harry squeezed him for about the fiftieth time (Seriously, there will probably be sasquatch paw prints on his ass for weeks.) "Well, yeah," he said, fucking himself deeper now. "You know nothing about the human body, do you."
After giving a shrug and a melodious "I dunno," Harry pulled Louis in closer. "I do know about art though," he said with hooded lids and darkened eyes that scanned every curve of Louis' body.
"Well, you're beautiful."
"Shut the hell up."
"You got a condom in that purse of yours?"
Harry froze, his eyes opening wider along with his mouth. He looked away from Louis as if it physically pained him before craning his neck to find his bag. "Yeah, think so. Wanna grab it?" he said, nodding over to where it sat on the wooden desk.
Louis stood up slowly, creating a slick noise where he pulled off Harry's fingers. He walked over to the desk, relishing in the burning sensation of Harry's eyes on his jiggling ass.
"Should be in the inside pocket," Harry said from where he was lazily slung over in the chair, thighs falling in either direction.
"Got it. Ooh, you got the lubey kind," Louis squealed, marveling at the small, lavender package. "Funny story, actually. They used to call me Lubey in highschool, because one time I was about to get fucked behind the bleachers, and the guy forgot the lube, so I ran all the way to the chem lab, and I was quite the scientist, so I -"
"Hey, Lubey?" Harry interrupted with a hand around his cock. "I'm kinda leaking here, so..."
"Right. Sorry." Louis scuttled back over to the chair, where he straddled Harry once more. "May I?" he asked, waving the unopened condom in Harry's face.
"Be my guest," he said, letting his arms dangle behind him as he leaned back to let Louis dress his dick in latex.
Once Louis ripped the wrapper open and found the opening of the condom with his thumbs, he rolled it onto Harry in a painfully slow motion.
Harry groaned with his head tilted back, giving Louis a good view of his razor-edged jaw. Louis needed to bite it.
He used one hand to dig his fingertips in the back of Harry's neck, while the other positioned his cock at his entrance. "Ready?" he growled, tugging on Harry's neck to force their foreheads together.
Letting out a small "Mhm," the younger boy threw his hands to Louis' back, where he trailed his fingernails up and down lightly. "Ride me, Louis," he said before pressing an open-mouthed kiss to Louis' lips.
Louis moaned into the kiss as he sunk down on Harry's cock, his thighs shaking due to the sluggish pace.
He felt even bigger than Louis imagined. Even with the prep of three fingers, the aching stretch of his hole was still incredibly noticeable. His eyes were snapped shut, and his fingers were bruising Harry's neck more and more with every inch he took down. But he knew he wanted this, that he would soon be bouncing on Harry's cock and making the boy beg him to go harder and faster. He was in control of this, not Harry.
"Fuck, you're tight," Harry hissed, clawing harder at Louis' back once he bottomed out. "Can you - agh, can you move, babe?"
Louis stopped at the base of Harry's cock. "Babe?" he said with his eyebrows raised. "Don't fucking call me babe when you just called me a bitch five minutes ago. It doesn't work like that," he said before clenching both hands around Harry's shoulders. He then lifted up so he just had the tip nudging in his hole before slamming back down with an echoing smack of skin against skin.
He rode Harry roughly, eyes piercing into his flushed skin before leaning down to bite at his jaw. His teeth sunk in deeper with every time he bottomed out, and he felt the vibrations of the Harry's moans only inches away.
"I'm not your babe," he continued. With his body moving up and down at such a quick pace, Louis' voice became wobbly, barely recognizable. "Not even your - ungh, not even your friend," he panted before biting down Harry's neck. He pulled back every few beats to make sure he was leaving marks and smirked when he saw the jagged, maroon crescents speckled across the boy's pale flesh.
"Whatever," Harry said, cupping Louis' ass now as it bounced up and down. "Just go harder."
Louis stretched out Harry's skin between his teeth, earning him a shallow whine. As he soothed the bite with the tip of his tongue, Louis then let his entire weight drop down onto Harry's cock.
"Fuck," Harry cried, eyebrows knitted and eyes shut tight. Louis kept going, thrusting himself down onto Harry's length over and over and over again. "Fuck, I'm close. I -"
Louis grabbed his own cock, desperate to bring himself to the edge. He dabbed his thumb in his leaking slit before brushing his palm down the shaft. After a few hard tugs, he was so close - so overwhelmed from the fullness from Harry's dick and the friction from him hand that he could cry.
"Take me deeper," Harry said through shallow breaths. His nails dug into the tender flesh of Louis' ass as the smaller boy slammed harder onto him, forcing his cock into his prostate.
"Oh my god," Louis screamed, mouth gaping wide and a bead of sweat dripping down his temple. "Ah.. ah.. ah."
Harry's hips bucked up into him, making both boys cry out. "Gonna come," Harry said, his round, needy eyes looking straight into Louis'.
Louis bounced three more times, and then Harry was arching his back in the chair and screaming out a series of curses. Louis felt the condom full up inside him, his own thrusts becoming sloppier and squishier.
It wasn't long before Louis' knees gave out, and he stopped at the base of Harry's cock while coming all over his chest. His initial reaction was to dive forward to grab Harry's bottom lip between his teeth and bite down hard. Harry groaned into it, eyelashes fluttering closed. Louis started to think about how pretty he looked like this but shut his mind up by biting down harder.
Louis fell forward so their chests were flush against each other, heaving into each other's warmth. With the mixture of exhaustion and post-orgasm lust, Louis couldn't care less about being so close to Harry this way. As long as there was still come on his chest, there was nothing cuddly about it. Nothing emotional whatsoever.
"What the fuck?" a voice said.
Louis quirked an eyebrow. Harry's lip was still in his mouth, so it couldn't have been either of them. He shuddered at the mere thought of someone standing in the classroom doorway. He couldn't bring himself to look, but he didn't really have to when Harry broke away from him and gasped out a breathy "Niall?"
"I'm sorry," the petite, blond kid chirped with a hand to his skull. "I uh - wow, what the fuck?"
Louis looked down at his and Harry's bodies and flinched at the fact that Harry was still inside him. "Shit," he said to himself. He didn't move, though. The sloshy sound of him popping off Harry's dick was the last thing the poor guy needed to hear.
"You hate each other," Niall said, tilting his head and letting his eyes lazily trace over their joined bodies.
Harry exhaled. "Yeah... right okay, well. Can you like ... leave please?" he asked, sounding genuinely polite even with come dribbling down into his pubes.
Niall bounced up onto his toes. "Right. Well." He stole one quick glance at Louis' ass before slowly twirling around. "It was nice seeing you lads," he said. And then he left, shutting the door behind him.
[hannah montana transition music]
An Ode to Locks
by Niall Horan
What goes on behind a classroom door
I do not wish to know anymore
Though one would think you'd much prefer
To go to the dorm to fondle your sir
I saw you there in a classroom chair
Forgive me if I had to stare
Don't get me wrong; You both looked good
And in my life, I've never seen so much wood
But I must advise you: get acquainted with locks
So students like me don't have to see your ... junk.