Four Seasons: Larry Stylinson

Part 7

Chapter 7: Louis 

It was an odd feeling for Louis. He watched as Harry rambled on about books, and the ones in which he read in primary school. "Then I realized the book's plot was more complex then everybody made it out to be, and it was utter twisted genius, I mean the author, genius!" 

Louis raised his eyebrows at Harry, not really paying attention to the boy with wide smile words, "Hm?" he asked, making Harry stop and look at him. 

" I was just explaining the ingenious plot line of my favorite kids book, A Series of Unfortunate Events- have you read it?" Harry asked, staring at Louis with those large doe eyes of his.

Louis smiled sweetly at Harry, resisting the urge to brush his curls out od his face- the ones that Harry let hand freely, never bothering ti even comb his hair at the most. "No, i haven't read them, but by the sound of it, they seem pretty interesting," Louis said, scooting closer to where Harry was sitting on the bed.

"They are...trust me. I can...lend a copy to you if you want, I mean, you don't have to- I just figured that maybe you'd want to read them since I've been talking about them and all this whole time- and no I just--I dont want to make you feel like I'm guilt tripping you into thi-" 

"Harry shut up please."

Harry nodded," Right." 

"So, how's school?" Louis asked trying to change the subject, now leaning into Harry's touch, pressing their shoulders together.

He felt Harry tense up from the gesture, and he watched goosebumps trail up and down the younger boys arms. He could hear Harry's rapid breathing and decided to ull away from him, giving him room to think. "Schools...schools alright, I guess, I mean everybody there is a sheep but other than that, its decent, I guess," Harry said, kicking his feet against the bed.

"Well thats good to hear," Louis nodded, not knowing what to say to Harry at all.

"I think you'll like it though. You'll fit in just fine."

" Was that suppose to be an insult?" Louis asked, fake hurt.

Harry's eyes widened, looking away from Louis, his gaze jumping all around the room, avoiding Louis' tounting smirk, "N-no, it wasn't i was just stating that you're uh, you seem the kind of guy that fits in..." 

"Oh, so, you're calling me hot?" Louis couldnt contain his smirk.

Harry's face was beyond red now, and looking down at his feet that were covered in bright blue socks, " I'm not saying that, I'm not... I'm not gay. I just meant that you, uh..."

"It's fine, Harry, I was only teasing you," Louis soothed patting him on the shoulder, bringing him closer to his own body.

The way Harry panicked about being gay was odd, and it made Louis reconsider things. What if Harry was homophobic? What if he thought Louis was accusiing him of being gay? Maybe he would find out Louis was gay and never talk to him again. Louis didn't want that. Maybe he should ask Harry, to clarify things. But what if Harry is, amd then accuses Louis of being a faggot, and Louis' not a faggot. Gay yes, but a faggot no.

"A-are you homphobic?" Louis asked, closing his eyes as if he was waiting for a blunt force to hit him.

Louis cowared backward slightly as Harry was silent, "No.." Harry finally said. " I'm not homophobic, I'm just not gay, thats all I'm trying to say."

"Oh," Louis said, a mixture of disappointment and releif setting in on him.

"Yeah..."

"So,uhm, what do you want to talk about now?" Louis asked, causing Harry to laugh.

Harry continued to laugh while Louis just stared at him. Harry had the most adorable dimples, and this was honestly the only time he'd seen Harry laugh before, and if Louis is aloud to say it... Harry looked cute. Not in a loving way but in a simple observation, yes.

"I don't think we have the same taste in anything," Harry said, still giggling like a school girl.

"Books," Louis argued.

"Yes but that's it."

"Catcher in the Rye," Harry said grinning.

"Read it, not one of my many favorites."

"What is wrong with you?!" Harry said, his tone serious.

Louis chuckled, "Nothing. What're all those books over there?" Louis asked pointing towards a small bookshelf underneath Harry's oak desk, filled with the same black journals with white numbers painted on the spines.

Harry turned and looked to where Louis was pointing, and gulped in fear down a wave of fear, "Those are just- uhm- journals..."

"Journals?" Louis asked, surprised that Harry kept so many.

Harry nodded, "I write them every year since I was seven."

Louis blinked, still amazed at the amount, "But there must be more than.." He paused, trying to count how many journals Harry would've written up to this point, "... Eight journals?"

There was an obscene amount of them, there was just not eight of them, far more than eight. "There's not just just eight, I know. There's thirty two of them," Harry said fidgeting with his fingernails.

"Thirty two?" Louis asked, dazed.

"Yes, every year I write four of them-- one for every season..."

"So, are you writing one right now?" 

"Yes, I'm currently writing down my thoughts for this spring."

"Do you think I could ever... read them?" 

Harry shook his head, "Later on maybe, but not right now."