Eager to reach his families expectations, Louis lives a life of secrecy and denial. In one of the most respected households in Doncaster, there's no room for mistake.
But when Louis meets Harry styles in his first year of boarding school, it seems...
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Songs: The point by Correatown The runner by Foals
Louis felt like he was going insane.
Before school, he had never really felt the true pain of loneliness other than when he had lost his mum. He only had his dad, his siblings, and the business men or house keepers that would rush in and out of the house at random hours of the day. That used to be his normal. But now that he had friends and acquaintances of his own age, and those were taken away from him, he finally understood what it meant to be lonely. It was bitterly ironic.
Sometimes, when he was in the middle of studying in that bleak, silent room, or laying in bed on sleepless nights staring at the ceiling, he would think of random, amusing things that he now had nobody to talk to about.
Professor Corden had a habit of forgetting to tuck in the back of his shirt before classes, and over the past few weeks it had become an inside joke between Louis and Liam, apparently they had been the only two to notice it. Whenever Louis was bored back at school, he would find himself drawing aimlessly, little doodles that took up his entire page which he would then present to Zayn as if he was some art competition judge. Zayn was never impressed, that much was clear with his furrowed brows and twisted lips, but he always tried his best to keep his insults at bay. "Uh, yeah, wow Louis. The- detail, in that cartoon dick is immaculate"
Yes, cartoon dicks, smiley faces with 'x' for eyes and stick figures riding skateboards were the limit of his artistic abilities. Silly, immature drawings were apparently enough to settle his boredom.
Niall, surprisingly, was always a good choice for lengthy debates. They ranged from which chocolate bar was the best, to iPhone conspiracies, to political arguments and so on. Their conversations never needed to have a purpose and that's what Louis enjoyed about them. They could talk about aimless shit for hours on end, never straying away from one topic without ever having nothing more to add. Their conversations were to the point, bold, without any hidden meanings and without any confusion. Care free honesty. Louis loved it.
Harry seemed to have the whole package. His wit always made for an amusing conversation, it was playful, teasing at times, and funny even in moments where it really shouldn't have been. They had the same sense of humour, heavy with sarcasm and banter that would have set Louis spiralling into a temper tantrum when they had first met. Those cheeky remarks he used to scoff at, the joking insults he would take to heart, imitation he would feel humiliated by. He couldn't stand it in the beginning, Harry's upper hand and quick responses were almost intimidating, the way he could smooth off hateful words with a careless, charming demeanour, a curl of his lips, was like nothing he had seen before; only in himself. They were so alike yet so different it was hard to get his head around.
But then, whenever the mood shifted towards more serious topics, such as death, insecurities, fears, Harry could drop his grin, his eyes would soften with understanding, and his brows would pinch slightly as he concentrated on every single word that left Louis' mouth. He wouldn't interrupt, he'd never get distracted. As soon as there was even a hint of vulnerability, Harry's focus was entirely on him.
