WONDERWALL | l.s.

Part 7

Mornings are meant for sleep and tea. However, Saturday morning provides Louis with neither of those things. After the game had ended last night, he and Harry said their goodbyes, and Louis didn't even attempt to find a party afterward. He went home alone, dwelling in the lies that he made.

Louis didn't feel any better when he woke up. Especially when he took note that Zayn was already gone, leaving him an empty fridge and dirty dishes to accompany himself with. If he weren't so hungry, he'd stay in bed. However, Louis needs food to live, so he drags his tired bones to the dining hall on campus. It's not his favorite place to eat, but it's close, and it's cheap. Going through the lines, Louis piles on an array of food, grabs a cup of tea, and finds a faraway place to sit.

Residing at the furthest table in the corner, Louis munches through his meal in peace. Or at least for a few minutes, until a large body shadows over him from the side.

"Lou?"

Even when he tries to get away, he can't.

"Harold. Nice to see you again so soon," it's meant to be sarcastic, but Harry either doesn't realize or brushes it under the rug.

"Yeah, mind if I sit here?"

"What? You don't have your hoard of women to sit with today?"

Harry's smile falters ever just so, "No. And uh, haven't really made too many friends other than you. And well Niall and Liam, I guess. I saw your friend Zayn the other day, but he gave me a strange look, so I don't think he counts."

"Zayn has separation anxiety, and doesn't like people that he thinks are taking me away from him."

Harry gawks, "You're joking."

Louis maintains his act well past the point of necessary, though eventually smirking, "Of fucking course, I'm joking Harold! No, but he is strange. Don't mind him. And yes, take a seat before your Bambi legs give out."

"Bambi legs?"

"Yeah," Louis informs as Harry sits across from him. "Because on the surface they look long and beautiful, but if someone watches close enough, they'll see that you don't know how to work them at all. Fumbling all over the place like baby Bambi."

"I'm not that bad!"

Louis snorts, "You're that bad, but it's okay. You're still cute."

Abort. Abort. Abort.

Harry pauses, his eyes shifting to the table before rising back up to swallow Louis in their color. "Well that's good to know, I guess," he utters with rosy cheeks.

Removing himself from the path he's veered on, Louis digresses, "Yeah, that's what friends are for."

Harry couldn't look more disappointed if he tried, "Right...friends."

They eat with minimal conversation, but of the little Louis says, it's another point or reference towards them being friends. Louis can tell that Harry's fed up by the time that he takes his last bite and leaves. It was overdone, but Louis had to make sure his message was clear. No fog, no blurriness, no speck or even dot. No writing between the lines.

They can only be friends.

******************

Approaching sooner than Louis predicted, the clock reveals its time for open mic night. Louis' been off since his breakfast with Harry. He should have spent his day writing new music, but all he could think about was that damn, curly-headed idiot. Why did he have to be so beautiful? Why did he have to be so talented? And why can't Louis go along with his plan without being so affected by him?