young & beautiful | harry's pov

xv.

a/n: food for the children
thought it was time to feed yall so longg chapter

ahah it's been awhile since i've written something, everything else was already pre written already. v sorry abt the quality drop oops

A/N: (S) originally was gonna publish this like next week but yall deserved it lol

Also idk when the next chapter will come out, I'll try my hardest to finish it by Saturday but I can't guarantee anything😭 entire chapter written by C so be proud of her!!!

There's a note under his door.

Harry had been writing in his notebook listlessly, mind wandering, when he noticed a piece of paper on the floor.

It looks like someone had slid it under the door, before walking away, and it raises Harry's curiosity. He gently shuts his notebook, sliding it under his arm before picking the piece of paper up, gently, carefully flipping it over and-

"Behind every exquisite thing that existed, there is something tragic."

It should be insignificant. It should be. Hell, he'd been passing out notes like that all night. Someone could have easily randomly found a quote and delivered it back, before going on with their day.

But it isn't. It isn't insignificant.

His eyes look at it over and over again, the messy scrawl of the pencil adorning the note, one edge uneven and fraying, the other straight, like someone had ripped the corner of a once complete sheet. It's old, full of creases and folds, and was ripped up, yet it was the most wonderful yet tragic thing someone had sent to him in a while.

He could've gone without seeing it, it was just a small slip of paper that could've gone unnoticed, but he did, and as he rereads it yet again, he can't stop his heart from wildly beating for a moment as he stares at the barely legible handwriting that sparks a name in his head, as his heart pings against his ribcage painfully, someone who, despite Harry's futile attempts, is always just slightly out of reach, someone who is hidden under so many layers of sarcasm and wit that wraps around Harry with his sarcastic comments and wry humor. Someone, who looks at Harry with a deep fascination who's hidden underneath layers and layers of shitty smiles and unapologetic jokes. Yet, Harry's walls are undoubtedly crumbling for him, letting his quiet affections shine through, despite everything.

As Harry gently caresses the slip of paper in his hands, turning it carefully, before scribbling on the back, handwriting contrasting the messy scrawl, opting for soft loops and edges instead, so dainty and small you had to squint, slipping the slip of paper in his notebook and closing it gently, before letting out a small sigh, placing it on his desk.

"Louis Tomlinson".

**

Nothing changes over the following weeks after Halloween between Harry and Louis.

Nothing positive, anyway.

Now, granted, it was probably on his end, because after that peaceful tutoring session before Halloween, things have kind of gone a bit, well, south.

It's not that Harry's trying to be mean or condescending, really, it's just, well it's hard to focus. It's hard to focus and try to be friendly when there were so many thoughts swirling in his mind, about his father, about that fucking note, about everything. And it's overwhelming, it's overwhelming trying to keep a semi happy persona and try to interact with Louis Tomlinson, despite the slight frustration and annoyance he could feel from him, whenever he remains silent even when Louis tries to initiate conversation, or whenever he brings guests over during their tutoring sessions.