The Boyfriend I've Always Wanted (Larry AU Sequel)

New Beginnings - 21

Shoutout to @hp_larry9 for giving me ideas for a joke by reading the writing of my other book incorrectly (step throat is one of the funniest things I've read for a long time, and I had to use it, I'm sorry). I need puns to boost my serotonin levels.

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"You know we pay you to teach us."

Louis about jumps out of his skin when he is exiting his last class of the day, the voice coming from just to his left. He whirls, eyes wide and heart racing, his body still drained from the events of earlier today.

Connor looks surprisingly well-kempt today. Unlike the trackies and tight athletic shirts he wore exclusively in secondary, he's wearing jeans and a casual blazer, his usually aggressive hair slicked to the side. Brown eyes leisurely watch Louis as he fiddles with the strap of his bag.

Slowly, Louis forces himself to preen down his hair and clear his throat.

"Technically the university pays me."

"And I pay the university," he scowls, not easily swindled by Louis' syrupy voice and fluttering eyelashes.

Louis flinches when Connor grabs his wrist. Something flickers through his muddy eyes in a way that makes Louis' fingers curl protectively into his fist.

"Sorry," he mutters, ripping his hand back like Louis' skin is made of flames. "Sorry," he repeats, though sounding ever so slightly more sincere the second time.

Sincere? Connor? In the same sentence? Sorry? Louis doesn't think he quite understands the word that just left his mouth. Sorry - what is sorry? He seems to have misunderstood the definition. Or - has it changed? It must have changed. He should check the dictionary.

Connor grabs his keys in his hands, actually hesitates by the edge of the building. "You should reach out sometime. We should - and . . . have a talk. Outside of this." But of course it isn't all for the right reasons, as he elaborates further, "It's awkward. You know . . . I kind of want a tutor that I know isn't feeding me all the wrong answers and drive my grades into the ground." And it is insinuating but not accusatory, the boy looking as if he fully believes that Louis might do that just for some petty revenge. "I want my money's worth, even if I was a dick to you."

Louis' default is unnecessary jokes. "But then I would have to start over." As soon as it's out though, he wishes that he had slapped his hands over his mouth, because who gave him permission to talk. Ever.

There's silence, a bit of unresolved tension in the wrinkles on Connor's older face. Then, slowly the realization sets in.

"No," Louis forces out, practically bursts. "NO - that was a joke. Fuck, that was a joke. Just a joke. I wasn't actually - I wouldn't actually mess with your education like that. I know you've never liked me, but I think we both can agree that I would never do that. I'm not that type of person -"

"Tomlinson," he speaks lowly, calmly.

And the levelness of his tone is so much more shocking than the fact that he had said his name. His name. And not, like, a nickname - like the creative affections that Connor gave him in high school in regard to his sexuality. His actual. Last name. Louis immediately clamps his mouth shut out of shock.

"Yeah?" he all but whispers. As if his voice too loud would stir the air and make Connor finally snap and throw that first punch he's been anticipating all semester.

The tiniest - itty-bittiest of smirks twitches at his lips. "Stop running your mouth," but the comment has no evidence of power behind it. "You never know when to stop talking."