wildest dreams

two

Harry has a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips when Louis walks by. Louis feels himself warm up as their eyes meet, but he tries to brush it off and ignore him as best as he can.

It's not until he heard hard footsteps get near him that he feels a sharp shiver of fear run across him. "Hey," the low voice muttered. Louis looked up warily.

"Hi," he replied softly.

Harry smiled, he held the cigarette in one hand and with the other kept a strong grip on Louis' wrist. Louis doesn't know what's happening because at the sight of his smile Louis' heart flutters. It flutters and his cheeks are now a dark red because Harry's hand has slipped down to Louis' waist. Louis glanced down and swallows thickly as he eyes the endless tattoos on Harry's arms.

"Youre really cute you know," Harry exclaimed, he leaned down closer to Louis' ear. "You know what'd be cuter though?"

Louis stays still, Harry's intoxicating smell of smoke and cologne is making him want to lean in closer to Harry, the smell of smoke not as strong as before. "What?" Louis asked.

"You on my bed, after a nice good fuck," Harry whispers.

Louis knows this is the time where he should be pulling back and slapping Harry across the face. His mind is telling him to do that, but his body only warms up at Harry's words, and if anything Louis feels himself come closer. The words are out before he can process what he is even saying. "Lets make it happen,"

And oh that was definetly not the reaction Harry was expecting. He pulls back completely surprised, and it's finally hit Louis what he's said. He pushes himself away and he backs away slowly before turning around and walking away from Harry who just watches him leave.

Louis is breathless by the time he makes it into his first hour class. He can still hear Harry's voice in his ears and feel the strong grip of his hand on his waist.

__

He's heard his name since the first time he stepped onto the campus. Rumors flying everywhere about how dangerous he was, and the number of fights he'd get into at clubs. Sometimes leaving with blood on his hands and not a care in the world. It was enough to completely petrify Louis, which is why he tried to imagine that it wasn't Harry who always looked at him when he walked home, and when he walked back. It was because of that that he was grateful for the days that Harry's body was wrapped around someone else and Louis could finally look up instead of down at his feet when he went home.

Except now, it's been a week and Harry's there but he doesn't talk to him, nor awknowledge him. Louis feels resented. Was he that easy to forget, not that he wanted his attention in the first place but it was nice to not be ignored for once.

Louis was slower in walking home late one fall night, it's been a few weeks since Harry tried talking to him, it's been a few weeks since Louis embarrassed himself.

Louis is passing by the familiar corner when he sees Harry alone, a lit cigarrete between his fingers and a leather jacket at his feet. he was in a ripped white shirt, and his hair was held back with a dark blue bandana. Louis must have been staring too long because then Harry turned to him and winked. "Yes?" Harry asked.

"Sorry." Louis muttered, he averted his eyes and continued walking.

He heard Harry's soft laugh behind him. "I'm not going to kill you, ya know," Harry spoke, he hadn't moved an inch. Louis turned to him and cocked his head to the side, and placed a hand on his hip, an annoyed look clear on his face.

"I didn't say you'd kill me Harold. I just don't have anything to say to you," Louis said his voice loud and clear.

"How about taking me up on that offer? I mean you said you wanted to," Harry smirked, dimples exposing on his cheeks. Louis bit his lower lip.