Baby Lips [l.s mpreg] (boyxboy)

concealer

"I've been trying to figure you out."

"Don't," Louis fiddles with the edge of his paper, folding and unfolding the edge to keep his fingers busy and give him an excuse to avoid Harry's eye. "That's... kind of weird."

"You're so shy," Harry says, and as if he needs further proof, he reaches his hand out just to see Louis shy away from it - the bastard - and blush apprehensively. "It's kind of cute. Like a puppy."

Louis huffs at this as if it's an insult - which, it kind of is, he is almost a grown man - and briefly wonders just how long he has to wait for this class to start. "I am not cute."

"You're right."

Biting his lip, Louis nods slowly. He didn't expect Harry to be this easy to shoot down, especially given their past encounters, but he'll take it. "Thank you."

"You're absolutely adorable."

"Okay, please stop," Louis's mouth says, but his stomach is doing fucking cartwheels and he's sort of preening under the attention, if he's honest. He doesn't get very much of it to begin with, and when your secretly attractive sort-of weirdly talkative classmate who's been trying to talk to you on and off for the past two weeks pays you a compliment, Louis knows well enough to accept it. But he can't get over the fact that Harry is sort of pleasant to be around, and not even in a weird way - at least, he doesn't think so. Stranger things have happeed.

"You get so flustered, and I-"

"Stop." Louis tries to growl, except, fuck; Louis doesn't growl. "You're making me uncomfortable, and I've had quite enough. So just, like, fuck off. Okay? Fuck off. We're not friends. We won't ever be friends. I'd rather be alone than be spotted with someone like you."

Harry's gone through about three different stages of pale, and he's sort of gripping the table in this funny way that has Louis somewhat concerned that he's going to like, collapse, or some other over dramatic response like that. It wouldn't surprise him, as Harry seems to think the entire world is his stage. But, he smacks his lips together and gives Louis a good old once over that has him squirming in his seat. "I think that's the longest string of words I've ever heard you say."

"Well, congratulations. Take a fucking hint, yeah?"

"Puppy's got a bite, does he?"

"I don't appreciate you talking down to me," Louis turns away from Harry. Harry has pretty hair, and it's not doing Louis any favors in his attempt to get Harry to close his trap and leave him alone. "And I'm not a puppy. I'm like, uh - a wolf."

"A wolf. You're telling me that you're a wolf."

"Okay, I'm leaving-"

"No, wait," Harry says, suddenly very serious, and his hand flies out to grab Louis's wrist. His touch is gentle and his fingers are so delicate; Louis stares at it for a second. "Look, I'm sorry. I just like messing with you. Don't leave. I'll be all by myself if you leave."

Louis takes a brief moment to glare at everyone else in the classroom, because they're all oblivious to his current situation, scribbling things down in notebooks and chattering away about their weekends. He decides that everyone else should feel his discomfort, and makes a silent vow to come back and haunt Harry after he dies. This seems to be coming very quickly, because Louis is sure he can literally and legitimately die from embarrassment. He googled it once.

"You need to stop being a prick and stop trying to feel me up, then."

Harry scoffs and lets go of Louis's wrist as quickly as he had grabbed it. "Feel you up? What makes you think I want to touch you at all, let alone feel you up? I don't know what kind of boy you think I am, but I am not trying to do that."

"You've got your hands all over me - just, Jesus, do you know what personal space is?"

"Yes-"

"There's a line that shouldn't be crossed, and you've done a running leap over it. And I'm not going to stand for it anymore. And I'm not going to kiss you. And I'm not going to be your friend or even talk to you, because you're weirding me out and I don't - I don't like it."

"I'm just being myself."

"Well, you're a bloody freak, then. If you want friends, maybe you should try acting less like yourself and more like a normal fucking person." Louis' chest heaves. Harry looks visibly hurt, and Louis sort of kind of really regrets his words. He assumes that it's hard for Harry to make any friends, and he then realizes with a heartbreaking amount of guilt that Harry probably doesn't even know how to make friends.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know I was bothering you so much. Maybe I should be the one that's leaving."

"No, Harry, I didn't mean it-"

"No one wants to sit next to a freak."

Harry stands up, legs long and thin in his skin-tight jeans as he smooths his shirt down and begins to shuffle away to an empty seat. Louis, briefly panicked by this, wracks his brain quickly for something to say. "I - I." He's not very good under pressure, he realizes, and watches sadly as Harry moves to the back of the room to the only other empty seat.

Louis turns to face the front again and, when the profesor waddles into the room and begins the class, realizes that he's just as alone as Harry is, if not more so.

And he doesn't think he'd mind if Harry actually was feeling him up, is the thing.