blue eyes like blue skies<3 ~l.s

chapter 3

Harry found himself returning to the library the next day, wondering if Louis would be there again. A voice in his head kept nagging him not to get his hopes up since he knew how unlikely it could be. It was only a small library; most students took to studying in the main library on campus. Harry preferred a quieter atmosphere no matter the longer walk it required opposed to the larger main library. He briefly wondered why Louis was in the nearly deserted library too and decided most artists would rather work on their sketches in private without prying eyes. He found himself spending an unnecessary amount of time thinking about Louis, or rather wondering about what he didn't know about Louis. What was he majoring in? What was he drawing? Does he like painting just as much? Harry realized all he really knew about the boy was that he doesn't like what rain does to his hair. Harry decided as that wasn't much to go on, he'd ask Louis about himself if he ever saw him around in the future. He didn't like the idea of never hearing that sunny voice again.

He knew by now his hopes were too high, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He supposed that given his past relationship, he should feel bitter and all-around pessimistic about love at this point, but something about Louis brought warmth to his heart that he didn't want to ignore.

He sat at his window seat in the library with a few books open on a table as Louis consumed his thoughts. Harry's eyes gazed unseeing at the book in his lap, zoning out long enough for him not to notice he now had company. Louis entered the library, his greeting aimed at Harry going unanswered.

"Harry?" Louis said a little louder, standing only a few feet away from Harry. Harry shook his head a bit, his curls bouncing. He blushed when he realized he'd had a very dopey looking smile on his face as he was zoning out.

"Sorry Lou, didn't hear you come in," Harry said a little sheepishly, but pleased to see him nevertheless.

"All good, mate. Seemed to be spacing out a bit, you studying too hard for your exams?" Louis asked with a little smile.

Harry considered his response, wondering if he should lie and confirm Louis' question to keep it short and sweet. He decided against it, seeing as he'd definitely rather talk to Louis than crack on with his homework.

"Not exactly, I'm working on a poetry assignment for a comp class. It's turning out to be a bit of challenge is all," Harry shrugged.

"Poetry, eh? So you're a writer?" Louis asked, sitting in the seat closest to Harry. His question was momentarily lost on Harry as he was filled with pleasant jitters at Louis' interest in him.

"Uh, yeah. I mean, someday, maybe. Hopefully," Harry replied, stumbling over his words.

Louis smiled at his hesitant answer and continued further. "What is it you write about?"

The words were on the tip of Harry's tongue, nearly falling out to make their way into the conversation.  Blue eyes, he thought. The rain and blue eyes and your sweet smile.

"Um, anything, I guess. I like fiction. Sometimes editorials, I've submitted a few things to the paper," Harry shrugged. "I like to write about people."

Louis nodded, genuinely intrigued. "That sounds interesting, mate. You a... journalism major?"

"Yep. Second year," Harry added.

"I'll be looking for your name on books someday then, yeah?" Louis smiled, continuing to make Harry feel warm inside at his attention.

Harry chuckled and blushed at the comment. "Right, that's the plan. Best-selling author straight out of uni."

"Never know. Dream big, Harry," Louis smiled at him, enjoying making the boy blush.

Harry bit back a grin, his chin to his chest. He finally collected himself and returned Louis' interest. "Are you an artist, then?" he asked, gesturing to Louis sketchbook wedged in his bag.

"Oh, um, yeah. Of sorts," Louis responded with a shrug.

"Yeah? What do you like to draw?" Harry continued, mirroring Louis' questions.

Louis met his eyes with the smallest hint of mischief. "I like to draw people."

Harry grinned back at him, reveling in the happiness of making a new friend. The two talked until the sky grew dark outside, hours passing by unnoticed. Harry talked about his favorite authors while Louis told him of his favorite artists, the conversation flowing perfectly. Louis told him of his current homework as well; his final assignment was to create several human portraits in different perspectives using the medium of his choice, which happened to be a simple pencil on paper. By the time the library was scheduled to close for the night, neither of the boys had worked a single bit on their homework. They bid each other farewell when they parted, having been kicked out of the library. Harry returned home still giddy from Louis having put his number into his phone. That night before bed, he wrote pages upon pages about unwaveringly blue eyes, graphite-smeared fingers, and the long-forgotten feeling of first crushes.