We're Like Bumper Cars [Larry Stylinson]

0.2

The Monday swings past too quick and Louis is stuck by his locker with Niall, nervous to the bone.

He's sure Harry won't come up to him in daylight hours. He'd be stupid to do that. The discussion between them doesn't erase because Louis had left. If Harry was angry, he wouldn't say he hooked up with Louis; his problem still applies of being known as straighter than the planks across the gym floor.

And that's where he lays at morning recess, sprawled across varnished wood as Niall practices shooting with a basketball. Louis thinks mindlessly, unable to concentrate on other living things at the moment. Not even Niall's multiple calls of "Lou" gains his eyes and ears, but the smack of the ball thrown at his chest makes Louis sit up attentively.

"You looked dead-er than my grandma." And of anything, of course Niall would comment about a passed relative. The thing is, Niall didn't even care. And that's why Louis worries about the carefree bloke way too much. "Something on your mind?"

Niall's his best friend, and never has there been something shared if it's locked with the secrecy padlock. Louis could tell him, but of all things to be said should he mention something about the enemy who had his cock in his mouth two fucking nights ago. Should he even mention Harry's name?

"Just thinking," Louis says. "You know, interschool's coming up... a little worried."

"Training this Friday, right?" Niall asks, and Louis nods with a sigh on the floor. He feels like he's melting, or maybe fading into the sheer guilt that he's put himself in. He should find Harry, maybe talk to him in the Janitor's closet.

No, Louis doesn't do well in confined places. Whether it be between Harry's arms by a tree, or in a tiny closet; something will happen.

"I'll stay at home, if you don't mind," Niall continues, and Louis almost forgets all over again. Great. "S'not like Mum cares anyway."

"Yeah, that'll be alright," Louis nods. It's not that it's a big deal that Niall's sleeping over on Friday, but Harry might plan something... if this thing was going to continue. But there's things Louis would really, really love to do with Harry, to Harry. "Pizza will be ours that night."

"Indeed," Niall hums. And that's that.

Floating past is two more uneventful blocks of English and Maths. He's heading for lunch, a small lunch set in his locker for him to enjoy. He's excited for it, as always. It's an easy block of gym after lunch; a lesson to look forward to, and not because Harry's in his class. But maybe it is, now. Harry's in his class. Flexed arms and sweaty skin... pulling on the sheets and fucking up into Louis' mouth, groaning left to right. Fuck.

So next lesson is going to be intense, possibly unbearably hot. Louis decides maybe wearing a pair of trackies over his red shorts will cover up any part of a bulge showing. He keeps a mental note to change into said pants later in the hour.

But for now, he's eating. He's grabbed his locker food and has met Niall by one of the benches outside the cafeteria. It's their usual spot, a clean metal bench for them and only them. A birch tree is sprawled over them and shading the area gently. Louis can still feel his skin burning up, however, but it's a good feeling; being tanned. Golden, glowing skin is his plan to become Harry's worst nightmare.

He thinks he's in the clear for the time being, heading back to the lockers to rid the extra homework and dump unnecessary books. He collects his sports gear. Niall and him separated from there on; Niall to his music session and Louis to the Gym rooms to change into appropriate wear. The corridors are barren, but Louis walks as if there's a swarm of children looking up to him, fearing him. He walks with precision and care, a bit of smize. Until there's a soft gruff behind him that catches his breath and makes him suck his tongue.