Chapter 5 (Part 2)

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Maybe even a little slightly panicked at the prospect of fucking this up. But friends-first is probably the only way he's going to ensnare Harry. He's got to look at the big picture.

Worryingly, though, Styles doesn't respond.

Louis' brows knit. "Too aggressive?" he asks, frowning.

Styles isn't looking at him anymore. He's looking back at the textbook in his lap, biting his lip and shaking his head.

"No, it's not that," he says quietly, then musters up a half-smile as he glances at Louis, then away.

Then nothing.

Okay then. Great. Once-fucking-again, Louis is at a loss.

Do they sell instructions manuals for Harry Styles?

"Actually," he says at last, and now he's staring at his watch, his eyebrows just a bit too furrowed for Louis' liking. He has literally no idea what he did wrong. "I've got work soon. We talked longer than I realized."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry," Louis offers, a little embarrassed. Which is weird. It's not a regular feeling for him.

"No, it's fine. It's my fault just as much as yours." Harry's still not looking at Louis.

Fault. Right.

"So..." Louis drawls, attempting to help him gather the materials scattered on the grass around them. He hands him stray pencils, a notebook, a scrap of paper—Harry takes each item with a small smile and quick, jade eyes. "Work, eh? That very mysterious place you go to? Where ever could that be?"

There we go.

There's a genuine smile from Styles. It's small and he tries to hide it, but it's there.

"You still want to know?" Styles asks, amused. He zips up his bag, stands, and hauls it over his broad shoulder. He winces a bit, but he smiles through it.

Hm. Is he wounded? Weak? Louis wonders.

"I mean. I do love our daily nature chats, don't get me wrong," Louis smiles, rising up on his own feet. "But I think it's time for a change of scenery, no?"

Styles shakes his head. "I've got to work, Louis. Sorry."

Dammit.

"Surely, I can follow you there? That's cute, innit? I can be like your little stray dog!"

Another laugh from Styles. Thank fuck.

"Well, I certainly can't get rid of you, so I suppose that fits."

"I'll take that as flattery," Louis sniffs, and he feels Harry's smile before he sees it. It's fondly amused, if a little exasperated. Just like Louis predicted. "It can be fun, though, you know. You can name me and everything! I'm all yours." With that, accompanied by a devilish grin, Louis takes a step back, hands out, offering himself on a silver platter. He raises his brows as he does a half-twirl, and Styles watches him, bag slung over one shoulder, his hip jutted out a bit as he laughs under his breath, amused and a little shy.

Then he begins walking without saying another word.

Does Louis dare hope?

He does.

Especially because Harry isn't using his globetrotter glides, so he clearly isn't trying to lose Louis. Success.

"So whatcha gonna name me?" he asks, batting his eyelashes, as he trots up to match Styles' pace. "Eh? What do I look like?"

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