Gods & Monsters

Chapter 6 (Part 2)

See, mostly Louis keeps his own information to himself. He doesn't like to hand it over, not to his mates, not to his peers, not to his anybody's—and especially not to his little targets. But Harry... Of course Harry somehow masterfully manages to pull something out of him when Louis isn't looking. He's done it only a handful of times, but still. It happens.

Like when he caught Louis humming The Rolling Stones under his breath and immediately asked what his favorite song was. Louis replied 'Play With Fire' without a second's thought and Harry's eyes brightened in the way they sometimes do lately. "I love that song," he'd smiled softly, voice genuinely surprised and maybe charmed? It's hard to tell. But he brightened, and though Louis should have rejoiced in the obviously positive reaction, he could only look away from those bright eyes, resisting the urge to flinch. Even the littlest details about himself are too much to give away. Nobody deserves them—they're for Louis. They're for Louis to keep to himself.

Or like that time when Louis quoted Kerouac and Harry asked him if he liked to read.

"Yeah, of course," Louis had mumbled, taking a drag from his cigarette. (He smokes a lot, doesn't he? Hm.)

Harry examined him, book in his lap, watching as the smoke trailed from Louis' lips. Examined him like trying to decipher an equation.

"I like anybody's words but my own." Louis clipped the words with a wry smile and it made Harry's own lips twitch into a frown.

"I like your words," was his response.

It made Louis' mouth twist cruelly. "You don't know enough of my words, pup," he'd somehow found himself saying. He still doesn't know how.

It left a silence in the air and it flashed something hot and paranoid through Louis. Letting little things slip out, such as his favorite song, is bad enough. But when things like this are said... It's a whole different kind of awful. It always feels too serious and too real and too personal for the moment. Like he's just tossed a brick onto the family dinner table, right after the main course has been served, and ruined the entire fucking atmosphere with something nobody asked for.

He's not self-conscious. But he does hate being anything but insincere and unaffected. Hates it. He's not sentimental. He's not sensitive or prone to emotion. So he hates it, hates it whenever things that feel a little too serious manage to penetrate through his atmosphere.

So Louis smoked and looked away from Harry, waiting for the moment to pass. The sky was grey-white and it was a little windy, a sharp chill on the breeze. Summer was leaving.

And then Harry's voice broke the silence. "I don't think you know enough of your words, Louis," he'd concluded quietly, and when Louis looked back at him, Harry's eyes were a little sad, peering at him without blinking.

The earnestness of them made Louis look back, just for one discomforted moment, until he finally ripped his stare away and took another drag, taking care to reassemble something inside that felt akin to bricks coming lose.

It's a feeling that Harry is prone to cause. It's unsettling. And Louis doesn't like it.

But it only happens on the occasion and Louis still has a good grasp on himself, still has hand, so it's not a huge thing. As far as the 'mission' goes, he's at least managed to distract Harry from his homework in some small way. The kid may still be excelling at all of his courses (little study bug that he is) but Louis can most definitely say that more days than not, Harry has been spending his free afternoons chatting with Louis, books and papers left by the wayside. They meet either by the pond or in the library or, once, they even went for a short walk to the cafe—though Harry insisted on buying his own tea. Which was irksome.