Winter Fic Exchange || Larry

we'll melt into each other like snowflakes.

for SingingStylinson.

2) Louis' and Harry's art class is having a 'make your own present' secret Santa. Louis gets Harry. Harry gets Taylor. Louis has to figure out the perfect gift for Harry, and Harry may or may not give Taylor a wooden block.

(Louis struggles to give Harry the perfect present so he hangs out with Harry and falls in love with him. Louis gives Harry the most unique and cutest present he can think of, and Harry just gives Taylor a block of wood.)

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Authors Note: Hi. This was so much fun to write no matter how many times it nearly made me scream in frustration because I didn't know what to write. I know that's a lot to say for a story that's only about 6500 words long but. Yeah. SO just know that I did try and I hope you like it and my feelings are easily bruised.

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American High School AU

When Mrs. Fields, the art teacher, sweeps in to her room in an ugly Christmas sweater, jeans, and a large swinging green cloak that appears to be made of velvet and is covered in snow, it only reinforces Louis' theory that she's crazy.

There's rain tapping insistently at the windows, and making the branches of the bare trees wave like seaweed in an underwater storm. Like the air is water and the rain are air bubbles. That, however, would mean up is down and down is up and Louis really doesn't want to get in to a mental debate about paradoxes at such a time in the morning.

Mrs. Fields comes in to the room, nearly dancing instead of walking and nearly singing instead of talking (what she calls talking but what him and everyone in a three classroom radius sees as yelling) and Louis turns his head to look at Zayn, seeing the same look mirrored on his face. It's the 'it's been a semester I don't know how we didn't expect it but look,' look.

Zayn's somehow been pushed in to the category of bad boy and loner, when in reality he just has no tolerance for the gossip and angst that swarms like an acrid perfume around 99% of the student body.

They're sitting on paint stained stools and today they don't have easels or desks to work on, just empty space. Usually Mrs. Fields has one or the other in front of them, along with supplies that they're supposed to be happy about. A lump of clay or some assortment of paint from the back cabinet that looks like it hasn't seen a good day in its life.

"So maybe there's an itty bitty chance that you've been wondering where your materials are, instead of trying and failing to hide your phone and earphones with nothing but your shirt- Mr. Murphy," she snaps her fingers and Aden rolls his eyes but tugs out his phone from his pocket to turn off the music and then tug the earphones free of his shirt, tossing the bundle - earphones and phone- in to her outstretched hand. Her long, thin fingers, tipped with sparkly painted nails, clasping the phone and she moves to put it in a shoe box where it will wait until the end of class.

"Well," she says, clasping her hands, glittering nails gleaming rainbow, in front of her and walking slowly across the room, no real intent of getting anywhere.

"My reason for that particular detail of the room setup- the no-work-surfaces, not Mr. Murphy failing to be sneaky," a few kids snickered, "is because it is December and there is a particular project I love to do in December," She grins at everyone, her cheeks pulling up to make creases at the corners of her eyes. Some kids that had been in this class last year let out various noises of displeasure. As it was, Louis lets out a high whine, never having had this class but having heard the older kids talk about it. Zayn gives him a strange look, the poor oblivious boy.

Mrs. Fields completely ignores them all, turning on her heel to slowly walk the other way.

"And since we get out on the 20th, a Wednesday, you will have roughly two weeks to find something and turn it in so I can give it to another student. Because we are doing a secret Santa," Mrs. Fields continues grinning at them, radiating an energy that none of them have.