Nothing without you [L.S] AU

Chapter 6:Detention

Louis hadn't planned on beating Harry up that morning, but when he saw him lingering near the lockers, something twisted inside him. It was like an itch he couldn't scratch, a frustration that had been simmering for weeks. Harry always looked so... vulnerable. It annoyed Louis. Made him want to lash out, to push Harry away before he could get too close.

But as Louis stalked over, his fists clenched at his sides, something shifted. The closer he got, the more he noticed the way Harry's curls fell into his eyes, how he always seemed to be holding his breath whenever Louis was near. It was like Harry was waiting for something—maybe a punch, maybe a shove—but Louis's mind was racing with something entirely different.

Before Louis could stop himself, he slammed Harry against the wall, his arm pinning him there with more force than necessary. Harry winced, his face scrunching in pain, but he didn't fight back. He never did.

Louis's hand balled into a fist, ready to land the first hit, but for some reason, he hesitated. His gaze flicked down to Harry's lips—pink, slightly parted, trembling just a bit. Louis's stomach twisted in a way that had nothing to do with anger.

For a split second, Louis had the strangest urge to close the distance between them. To lean in, to press his lips against Harry's. The thought struck him like a punch to the gut, making his chest tighten. He felt sick. Confused. Angry at himself.

What the hell was wrong with him?

He shook the feeling off as quickly as it came, letting his anger take over instead. Louis threw a punch into Harry's side, harder than he intended, hoping to drown out the unfamiliar feelings bubbling up inside him. Harry crumpled under the weight of the hit, but Louis couldn't shake the image of Harry's lips from his mind. His pulse pounded in his ears, his thoughts racing.

What was happening to him? Why had he... why had he wanted to kiss Harry?

Louis hit him again, this time more out of frustration with himself than anything else. He needed to get a grip. This wasn't right. He wasn't supposed to feel... whatever that was.

"Stay out of my way," Louis growled, his voice harsher than usual, as if he was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to threaten Harry. He shoved him to the ground, trying to shake off the strange mix of anger and confusion that was still swirling in his head.

He didn't look back as he stalked off, but his mind was a mess. He felt off balance, like the ground had shifted beneath his feet and he had no idea where to stand anymore. What was happening to him?

The rest of the day was a blur. Louis couldn't focus on anything. He barely heard the teachers talking during class and ignored his friends during break. By lunch, he ended up in detention, sitting in the back of a quiet classroom, his foot tapping restlessly against the floor.

He couldn't stop thinking about it—about Harry. About the way he'd felt when he was standing so close to him, the way something inside him had stirred, something he didn't understand and definitely didn't want to deal with.

What the hell was wrong with him? Louis wasn't supposed to feel this way—he wasn't supposed to feel anything toward Harry except annoyance. Maybe hatred. That was it. That's all this was. It had to be.

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't shake the feeling.

A sudden knock at the door pulled Louis out of his thoughts. He looked up just as Harry slipped into the room, his face pale and tired. Louis stiffened, watching as Harry quietly took a seat at the front of the class.

Of all the rooms in the school, why did Harry have to end up in this one?

Louis leaned back in his chair, watching as Harry fumbled with his exam papers, clearly trying to keep his head down and avoid looking at Louis. But Louis couldn't stop himself from staring. He'd been trying to ignore Harry all day, trying to push away the weird emotions swirling inside him, but now that they were in the same room again, it was impossible.

The silence stretched on as Harry worked through his exam, and Louis found himself getting restless. His foot tapped against the floor, his fingers drumming lightly on the desk as he kept glancing at Harry, hoping—no, dreading—that Harry would look up and meet his gaze.

Eventually, Louis couldn't take the quiet anymore. He leaned forward, his voice cutting through the stillness. "Late to class and now stuck in here with me. Bad luck, huh, Styles?"

Harry flinched slightly but didn't respond. He kept his eyes on the paper, though his hand shook as he wrote.

Louis smirked, though it didn't feel quite right on his face. "You're looking a little rough. Didn't hit you too hard this morning, did I?"

Harry's jaw clenched, but he still didn't look up. Louis frowned. This wasn't going the way it usually did. Normally, Harry's nervousness would give Louis a strange sort of satisfaction, but now it just made him feel... uneasy.

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to something quieter, something softer. "You ever gonna learn to fight back, Harry?" he asked, though the teasing edge was less sharp than usual.

Harry swallowed hard, still refusing to meet Louis's gaze. "What do you want from me, Louis?" he asked quietly, his voice strained.

Louis froze. He didn't know how to answer that. What did he want? He thought he knew—he thought he wanted to put Harry in his place, to keep him at arm's length. But now, sitting here, so close to him, all Louis wanted was...

No. No, that wasn't it. He hated Harry. That was the only thing that made sense.

Louis shifted in his seat, his knee brushing against Harry's under the desk. Harry's breath hitched, and Louis felt that strange pull again. He fought it, clenching his fists under the table.

"You should really stop staring at me, you know," Louis said suddenly, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. "It's making me wonder what's going on in that head of yours."

Harry finally looked up, his green eyes locking onto Louis's with a mix of confusion and something else—something that sent a shiver down Louis's spine.

Before Louis could think, he leaned in just a fraction closer, his voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe you like it when I'm this close."

Harry's face flushed, and he quickly looked away, his breath coming faster. Louis felt a strange warmth spread through him at the sight. It wasn't anger anymore—it was something entirely different, something he couldn't name. And it terrified him.

When the bell rang, Harry stood up quickly, gathering his things in a hurry. Louis followed him to the door, his own confusion boiling over into something darker. As Harry reached for the handle, Louis grabbed his arm, pulling him back just slightly.

"If you tell anyone about this... about me sitting here, talking to you like this..." Louis's voice was low, threatening. "You're dead. Got it?"

Harry didn't say anything—just nodded quickly before slipping out of the room, leaving Louis standing there, his mind a mess.

As Louis sat back down, his heart raced. He didn't understand what had just happened between them, but one thing was clear: something had changed. And it scared him more than anything.