Baby Lips [l.s mpreg] (boyxboy)

foundation

"So, where do you live?"

Louis' hand freezes on his combination dial. "That's.. sort of an intrusive question."

"Yeah, but," Harry, who's been following Louis around since the last bell, pushes some hair from his face. "Maybe we're close."

"I doubt that," Louis mutters, shoving his things onto the shelf in his locker; he glances at his textbook. If you had remembered it, none of this would of happened. "I live.. sort of. Sort of far away."

"How far away?" Can't this boy take a hint? Louis shrugs his shoulders and begins to walk away. He hears the soles of Harry's shoes against the hard floor behind him. "Outside of town?"

Louis turns on him suddenly, whirling around with a hard glare and frown lines etched into the irate expression painted across his face. "Far enough. Can I help you with something?"

"No." Harry smacks his gum. Louis wants to smack him, but people are staring and his heads tremble where he wipes them against the rough fabric of his trousers. Harry's eyes are so green that Louis isn't sure if they're even real. They light up as Harry speaks again. "I just wanted to get to know the boy that I'm going to be kissing."

"Jesus," Louis breathes, "you were serious about that?"

Harry snorts. Louis is slightly intimidated by his confidence, if he's being honest; Harry bites the flesh of his pink lip. "Oi, mate. Calm down. Did you honestly think I want to kiss you? I don't even know you. Is it not okay for me to just talk to you?"

"No." It's true. It is. Louis swallows a groan as Harry's hand reaches down to grab his own. "I just... you... I'm not..."

"You're not?"

"I'm not... Look, mate. I don't want to be rude, but, you're-"

"A boy?" Harry asks. There's no bite in his tone, but fear burns into Louis' soul as he blinks back at Harry's eagerness. Jesus Christ, he's wearing eyeliner, and Louis isn't sure if he can breathe at this point. His heart is pounding in his chest and all the eyes cast upon him have made it increasingly harder to think straight. Harry's hand is still tucked into his own, so he clutches it tightly and ducks into the nearest open room; the girl's lavatory. Fan-fucking-tastic.

Harry squints at him in confusion, Louis supposes, but Louis speaks again before Harry gets the chance to even open his mouth. "Listen. You need to stop following me around."

"What?" Harry's eyes travel down Louis' face and stop at his trembling lips. "I'm not following you around. I just wanted to talk to you."

"You need to leave me alone."

The Harry boy blinks at Louis a few times before he slides his hand out of Louis' grip. There's a brief moment of tense silence before he speaks again. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine- just." Louis grits his teeth. "People... are noticing."

"Noticing? Am I freaking you out.. um-"

"Louis."

"Right, yeah. Louis. Sorry. I- well, I was just. Well. You don't have to kiss me if you don't want to." There's something about Harry that makes him inherently different from the other people in his school, Louis realizes, besides the fact that he looks like he's stepped off the cover of Vogue (Louis isn't even exaggerating, okay?) and that, well, he's wearing a skirt. The Harry boy, as strange as he may be, has successfully carried out a conversation with Louis. One that's lasted longer than twenty-seven seconds. Mark the day, goddammit.

"Well." He doesn't want to, is the thing. Louis finds him to be more unique than anything else. He wants to touch some of Harry's curls, but then again, he really doesn't want Harry to touch him back. His breath is warm on his skin as he takes his lower lip between his thumb and his finger. "You.. you're wearing girl's clothing, mate."