Good Morals [Larry Stylinson]

Ch. Twenty-Seven | Can We Talk?

[E:✔️]

Days turned into weeks at that point and soon enough it was Monday, two weeks before graduation. The wondering tension was growing stronger between Louis and Harry. They started sending timid nods and shy eye contact with each other, enough to notice themselves but subtle enough to where nobody else would notice. The tentative upwards twitch of the corners of Harry's lips was enough to make Louis's stomach erupt with fluttering butterflies. Maybe they could talk it out, Louis hoped, because he couldn't stand the bare minimum talking from the curly-haired lad. The way he talked so slow, the way his lips moved, the smiles he shared with everyone, his laughter and his everything else. It was taboo, to say the least, and Louis didn't have the strength to fight the thoughts anymore. It was just a matter of knowing he couldn't do anything, however, his heart was telling him something he didn't like hearing (since he knew it wouldn't happen). Which was all that meant-to-be bullshit. Maybe it was true, maybe it wasn't. Feelings like this could go two ways, distance makes things better, you forget about the person, you move on and you find someone fitting that you'll be happy with. And then there's the second, more drastic outcome; you never move on, you're always thinking about the person you lost, and you regret ever leaving them without saying anything.

Louis feared the latter would be the outcome of the situation, so he set in stone he'd be nice to Harry, but as nice as he was to the rest of the peers. No more shy glances, no more bashful smiles. Focusing on his work unless Harry needed help with something like the other kids, of course. Maybe his heart would give out and he wouldn't have to deal with it cracking everyday with seeing the boy coyly glance at him and blush. Even out of the corner of his eyes, the feathery-haired man saw the growing sadness in the lad's eyes. It made Louis want to hurl. He wanted to let Harry know that he wasn't mad. Let him know everything was alright.

He ignored the third, most idealistic outcome, which was ending up with that person.

He also ignored the fact that he wouldn't be able to do what he "set in stone".

It was getting harder for Harry to hold in these feelings. Does he do it on purpose, Harry wondered, but knew that that wasn't the case, being as Mr. Tomlinson couldn't do that because he was a teacher and knew better. And he most likely didn't reciprocate the feelings Harry had for him. That's what Harry thought, at least. He never would, would he? Harry would remain alone and sad for the rest of his life, knowing the one person he fell in love with was someone completely unobtainable to him. He figured he'd just grow older alone or with someone he didn't love. Get married, have kids, a basic nine-to-five job, grow miserable and get a divorce and-

"Harry, where are you going?"

The boy turns around, looking at his confused friends, "Shit, sorry, got lost in thought," he steps towards them. He looks into the classroom, walking in. Recently he's been taking his own advice, along with Niall's cheeky suggestions. Not all of them. Niall's suggestion of "go up and snog" wasn't smart one bit, not again. He just gave the man secret smiles and everything else came naturally. Maybe he didn't hate Harry. After all, he was smiling back. That had to mean something. Had to, right?

Just then an idea popped into Harry's head. He'd draw it out later in his head. He beams, waving at Mr. Tomlinson, who smiled and waved back. "Hello, everyone, it's Monday, so exciting, innit," he chuckled. Harry leaned against the wall, trying to catch his teacher's eyes. They usually looked at each other, but Mr. Tomlinson wouldn't even look his way. His heart sunk, and he leaned towards Niall, harshly whispering, "You're wrong, see? Now he's ignoring me."

"It's denial."

"Niall, stop," Harry sighed, looking towards the front again to pay attention to what Mr. Tomlinson was saying. The blue-eyed man cautiously glanced at Harry after he finished talking, noticing Harry's hands in his pockets and head bowed to the ground. His heart skipped a beat when the lad looked up and their eyes met. Harry moves his lips in a silent question, worry written across his face, "mad?". Louis bit the inside of his cheek, shaking his head subtly. "Today, Mondays, we usually do ice-breakers, however to those graduating on May twenty-first, which is only two weeks away, wow," he chuckled a bit sadly, "We're going to do checks on how far you are with your final. Since this class is 'round an hour, I'll only have fifteen minutes with each of you, right? Okay, so let's start with the first person. Everyone continue working and be prepared when your name is called," he smiled at everyone. "Jordan, come on up, bring your pencil and everything."

"Maybe you should say something when you go up?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I'll fuck everything up. Besides, I'm barely even halfway done, I need to focus on getting help from him," Harry harshly snapped, maybe a little too loud. He ducked his head further down and decided to slump to the ground and stare down at the pencil in his hand. He read over what he had; only a few words more than when he checked it last time, underlining the new bits.

River was a quiet boy, always liked to be alone, at peace. Alone with Fay. At peace with Fay. Fay, his greatest friend, his only friend. Her presence in itself was enough to make him smile. He always thought to himself, "how did I get so lucky" when he looked at her. Her voice was kind, teasing, almost. He liked the way her eyes lit up whenever they hung out. The way her eyes looked when in the sunlight. Her smile, her everything. Her care, how whenever River got upset she would hold him, comfort him, running her delicate hands through his hair which was best described as a mop. She teased him about it, he didn't mind. His favourite moments with her would always be sitting outside, anywhere, really, and just talking. It could be seven in the morning or ten at night, he would do anything for her. He could say the same for her for the most part. The only thing he knew she couldn't do is return the love he felt for her. She wasn't aware of the fact he liked her. He loved her, so madly, so truly, so deeply. It was not infatuation, not a crush.

"Fay," he would say. "Yes, Ri," she would answer. "I like spending time with you. Greatest friend I've had in a long time," he would confess, although it was no news to Fay. She felt just the same. River was her best friend, her only true friend she could lean on. "I know, Ri. You say this all the time. And I always tell you you're an incredible friend as well.

River would smile at her, and Fay would return it with a grin of her own.

This would go on for days. Spending time. Weeks, months, years had gone by before River finally found the pride to confess to Fay-

"Harry, please," he looked up, hearing his name being called. He scrambled to his feet, "Yes, sorry, sir," he picked up his notebook and pencil after watching Joran go back to the others. Harry shuffled over and slowly sat down in the seat in front of Mr. Tomlinson's desk.

Louis bit his lip, seeing the mop of curls out of the corner of his eye. He looked up, smiling hesitantly. Harry smiled back right away. Then got shy, "Um, so I'm a tad over halfway done. I-I decided on elements like tragedy and um..." he looked away, biting his lip, "uh, love. Here," he flipped his notebook around and pushed it towards his teacher, who took it right away. Their fingers brushed, and Louis had to bit his lip to control his breathing. He dared to look at Harry with a small smile, and Harry blushed, "Sorry, I didn't mean to," he looked down at his hands which were resting in his lap. "It's alright," Louis looked down, focusing on what the boy had written. And wow, it wasn't bad, not at all. He didn't expect anything poor by any means but this (although still a high-school level story) was well written beyond Louis's expectations on the lad. As harsh as it sounds, Harry didn't seem too focused on finishing the script. Louis sighed, pushing the notebook back to the green-eyed boy. "Well," he spoke loosely, catching Harry's attention. He pointed his finger down at the page, tapping it, "This is very good, Harry. I'm excited to see the final project, very proud to see you've been working on it."

Harry nodded, taking it in his hands, "Thank you," he shifts to get up. "We need to talk about-"

"No," the taller boy whispered, "it meant nothing, please can you just leave it be?"

"It meant nothing," Louis quietly questioned, masking the hurt behind the repeated words. "I just want us to get along, not think about it."

"Right, Harry, it meant nothing. Please take your seat against the wall. Won't bring it up again, I think you'll do the rest of your writing on your own. I'll, leave it be, then."

The end would be here soon, and Harry knew that it would be here too soon.

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Does the beginning of the chapter seem weird to you? Idk Idk seems rushed or too skippy to meeeeeeeee.

The next couple chapters might be shorter but it will all be worth it in the end, I promise!

X

BenzoClownLarry