Gods & Monsters // velvetoscar on ao3

chapter 6

"Guess who?"

A long-suffering sigh. Then: "Who."

Louis snorts.

Styles doesn't even lift his head from his book (he's outside again, but at a different tree—one that overlooks a little grassy plain where a small cluster of boys are playing footie) but there is absolutely a twitch in his left cheek—there is. Whether it's a twitch of annoyance or the suppression of a smile is up for debate, but Louis likes to think optimistically. So it's totally a suppressed smile.

"You're very funny, you know."

This makes Styles raise his head. Louis notes that he doesn't have his earbuds in today. A rare occurrence. "You told me to guess 'who'. So I said 'who'."

Oh wow.

Louis huffs, amused. "Thank you for the detailed description of your thought process," he deadpans, and it's enough to make Styles offer up a small smile and a single-shouldered shrug.

"No problem," he says, and turns the page of his book. So tidy.

Shaking his head (this kid is really something, eh?) Louis gestures to the ground beside him. "May I?"

"Sure," Styles mumbles, eyes skimming across the words before him. He seems a little distracted, more bent on studying the text than studying Louis.

Which is never good.

"So how are you today?" Louis asks, hoping to distract. If only he could successfully manage to somehow get a hold of his book and toss it in the pond...

Liam would love that. He can just imagine it now: 'Hi, Liam. Today I tossed Styles' book in the pond. Distracted him nicely for you. Can we have sex now, can I have your money now, can I take advantage of you now?' 'Oh yes, of course, let us fuck.'

He suppresses a snort at the thought.

Styles shrugs again. "Good, I suppose." Pause. "It's nice to be outside. Better than the classrooms."

"Is that why I keep finding you out here rather than your little nook in the library? I'd begun to think you were just trying to dodge me," Louis smiles, making sure his eyes crinkle, as he rests his elbows on his knees. He made sure to wear his best jeans today—AKA, the only ones without enormous rips in the knees and bum. They're relatively clean, too. Those, paired with his Jim Morrison t-shirt and trusty jean jacket, officially put Louis in the running for Most Attractive Hobo in his age group. Maybe in all age groups.

Point is, Louis knows he looks good today. And he's going to use it to his advantage. He's even got his hair done—up in what's been affectionately coined as a "cinnamon swirl" after that time Zayn pointed a lazy finger to the top of his head and said "You look like you've got a pastry sat up there."

Oh, Zayn.

"I didn't say I wasn't trying to dodge you," Styles counters, but his lips are twisting with amusement as they bumble out the syllables, so it's not a warning flag or anything.

Louis makes himself a bit more comfortable.

Styles looks much the same as usual—wearing a white t-shirt and skinny jeans and pristine White Converse—and his hair is a bit frizzier than is custom (which is saying something) but he looks well-rested and pleasant. And very studious. He's got a highlighter in his hand which he uses on the occasion, steadily dragging out lines of fluorescent yellow. Once in awhile, his eyes flicker up to the field in front of him, where the boys are playing.

Louis observes the action closely. Liam's words are fresh in his mind.

"...there's talk that he's going to join the footie team. People think he'll want to be captain..."