Graduation (Larry Stylinson)

Chapter 2: Sensitive

Chapter 2: Sensitive.

[Louis P.O.V.]

The five of us walked back to our dormitory building. It stood proudly like an old grand English castle at the edge of campus with a rose garden out front. Zayn, Liam, Harry and Niall lived in the “social” wing of the building at the noisy end of a very long corridor on the third floor. I only ever talked to the boys (well, three of them) on the pitch and in lecture halls so I had never visited their rooms before. It was like I was being accepted into their tightly-knit group and it was a huge honour. And they were tight. The four of them clearly got on very well. I felt very nervous. And what do I do when I’m nervous? I’m the fucking sass masta from Doncasta. It took me literally three seconds to rub Harry up the wrong way.

Niall suggested a session on the PlayStation when we slung our bags down in Liam’s room (which was very cool and tidy). I said I’d “pound Harry’s indie-ass butt” in my usual friendly banter but he politely said he didn’t often play. I jokingly called him a “player with a flat ass” and it just kicked off out of nowhere. There were flying insults and raised voices in 0-100. Harry looked hurt as he tried to shout over my digs and my instinct was telling me to stop because his eyes were shining under the light, but when I get started I have to have the last word and I have to win. Zayn talked me down, Liam talked Harry down... and Niall got his fucking camera phone out.

Harry looked particularly flustered - his cheeks turned red - and he strode out of the room. I felt absolutely awful. The lovely boys had invited me into their rooms and I had messed it up.

‘WAIT HARREH…’ I tried to chase him out of the room to make it better but Liam held me back and shut the door.

‘Lou, sit down’ he instructed, ‘if you’re going to work with us until the end of the semester there’s something you have to know.’

‘Lads I’m so sorry’ I sat down on the couch with my face in my hands, ‘I don’t mean it, it’s just my sense of humour’ I tried to explain.

‘We know’ slouched Zayn beside me, ‘listen to Liam.’

‘Harry is really sensitive, Louis’ explained Liam, lowering onto his knees in front of me, ‘he has a wild reputation in this wing because he’s always out socialising and gets on with everyone. There are girls up here every hour asking where he is… wondering what he’s doing…’

‘I heard he was a player?’ I asked.

‘No chance’ said Niall.

‘He’s not a player’ confirmed Liam, ‘he’s as shy as they come. He never brings anyone home and if he does, it’s for study. He simply writes songs, hangs out with friends, writes more songs and calls his mom every night before he goes to bed. The player label hurts him. He wasn’t raised that way and it’s been a few years now. He’s tired.’

‘Well why doesn’t he defend himself more?’ I protested.

‘He’s not the type to shout and scream’ sighed Zayn.

‘He just does “him”’ concluded Liam, ‘gossip bounces off him he’s just not interested in that kind of thing.’

‘I had no idea’ I mumbled, feeling ashamed that the rumour mill had got to me too.

‘He’s also not used to a lot of noise!’ laughed Niall.

‘You can be a bit loud…!’ Zayn scrunched his face up.

I blushed bright red and covered my cheeks with my cold hands.

‘You’re right lads. I’m sorry. I’ll catch up with Harry later and apologise, and I promise to be a bit more thoughtful with my words.’