more than just a dream

This is NOT mine, the original link is in the comments THNX

It starts in the spring. He’s just finished class, and last week he turned in a paper that was apparently brilliant because his teacher won’t stop babbling about how lovely it is. At first, it was nice, but he just wants to go home, and she really won’t shut up. He doesn’t need this right now. 

“Honestly, Harry. It’s the best thing I’ve read all year! Have you thought of English as your major in uni in a few years?”

“Uhm, no. I was thinking business, more. But I’ve really got to run, Miss K! See you tomorrow!” 

And before she can even get another word out, he slings his bag over his shoulder and runs for the hills. (Or rather, his bus.)

It’s disgusting, how full it is. Ordinarily, Harry gets to the bus prompt and early because he wants nothing more than to get home after sitting in class all day. Normally, it’s earbuds in, sitting in his seat that he has every day, but being held behind has left him with wandering eyes, looking for a place to sit. He sighs and adjusts the cord in his iPod, looking toward the only empty seat. Sighing, he looks in the very front and asks gently to the boy in the two-seater, “Can I sit with you?”

“Sure,” he responds, and scoots in toward the window, letting Harry slump in defeat, long day getting to his head. He presses his forehead to the fake, plastic-y material in front of him, and flicks through his music for something relaxing to listen to. Then there’s an outrageously obnoxious breathing down his neck, but he doesn’t snap because he has no reason to be rude.

He knows who it is, sure. Louis Tomlinson, two years above him, golden, gorgeous, footballer. He’s got the bright pants and the brighter eyes, the cardigans and glasses that make him small and approachable, but the tight jeans and low cut tops that make him dangerous and hot. Harry may or may not admire him from afar. But at the moment, his breath in Harry’s ear is making him rather uncomfortable, so he shifts in his seat and looks up with wide eyes at the boy who is currently leaning all over him. 

“Er, hi?”

“Hi!” Louis chirps happily, and Harry doesn’t understand his good mood in the slightest, how he’s so chipper after school for six hours. But he gives him a smile anyway, just because he’s cute. “Harry, right?

“Right,” Harry says, nodding. “And you’re Louis?”

“I am, most days,” Louis agrees, looking cunning.

“And the others?” Harry wonders. 

“I couldn’t tell you that, now could I? That’s called letting the cat out of the bag, and we just can’t have that. I don’t spill my secrets so easily."

“I see,” Harry says, simply because he has nothing else to add. So they know each other, just not really. Acquainted through others, perhaps. Not first hand, certainly. Harry is a little giddy but mostly tired. He goes back to flicking through artists. He lands on The Neighbourhood and tips his head back when a song plays, closing his eyes and drumming his fingers absently. 

Louis asks what he’s listening to. Harry tells him that it’s “Sweater Weather” by the Neighbourhood, and that he should look it up when he gets home, but for now he’ll share his earbuds. So they listen to the whole album, and that’s how it starts.