next to you ❀ l.s.

forty - the eye of the storm

"Jesus, Niall, it's a philosophy class. What did you expect?"

Niall huffed, dropping the hefty novel on the table. "Well, I didn't expect four hundred pages of reading for one week! It's the second week of the semester! I'm only just relearning how to read for the semester and these professors think I'm ready for a bloody tome!"

Harry glanced up from his own book, shooting the Irish boy an amused look. "I'm surprised you've already learned the word 'tome.'"

"I'm a college student, Harold. An intellectual."

With a snort, Harry shook his head in disbelief, returning to his reading. The bookstore was quiet for a Tuesday afternoon, the post-lunch rush gradually slowing to a pre-dinner crawl. Liam and Niall had snagged their usual table upstairs after their classes ended, and Harry had joined them as soon as his shift was over.

"Morning, lads! Has the second week of school taken anyone else by complete bloody surprise?"

Harry stiffened at the sound of Louis's voice, but he forced his shoulders to relax, offering the older boy a tiny smile as he approached the table.

"I mean, really. Didn't anyone ever hear of easing into the semester?" Louis huffed, slinging his backpack off of his shoulders and dropping it carelessly beside the table.

Liam grinned. "Wait until you hear about Niall's philosophy class."

Louis's eyes softened when he looked at Harry, and he moved to stand behind his chair, bending down to kiss the top of Harry's head. "Hi, baby. How was work?"

Harry only shrugged. "It was alright."

"Good," he replied simply, not questioning Harry's vagueness. He wrapped his arms around Harry's neck and propped his head up on top of Harry's own, tucking the younger boy's head under his chin as he asked, "And why in the world have you signed up for a philosophy class?"

Niall groaned, burying his face in his arms. "I just wanted a break from impossible assignments and exams, and this class only has papers!"

Liam deadpanned. "You hate papers." He scrunched his nose. "And reading."

Louis laughed loudly, the sound vibrating through Harry's body from head to toe. "You fucking idiot."

"It's not too late to drop it," the Irish boy sighed. His eyes lit up, and he glanced at Harry, leaning forward over the table to suggest, "Unless Harry wants to do my reading and write my papers for me?"

Harry shook his head, careful not to jostle Louis too badly. "Think again."

Louis patted Harry's chest proudly, then moved to sit down in the empty chair beside him. "Good job, love. Don't let the Irish bastard pressure you," Louis joked. He slung one arm around the back of Harry's chair as he recommended, "Get Liam to do it for you, Ni. He got an A in his freshman lit class."

"Only because Harry helped me!" Liam protested.

It was too late, though -- Niall had already started begging the other boy to do his work for him, promises of food and money flying across the table like a tornado. Harry rolled his eyes at their ridiculous friends, then turned tentatively to Louis.

"Was your head alright in class?" he worried, chewing on his lip as he waited for Louis's answer.

"Perfectly fine. Honestly, not any different than the usual headache that math problems give me."

"Alright, good. If you start feeling tired, you need to make sure you tell your professor," Harry advised, his brow still creased. "Don't just push through it. It'll make things worse."