1D - One Shots ᶠʳᵃᵗ ᵇᵒʸ ᵉʳᵃ ۶ৎ Imagine One Direction In College

Sketching Secrets - Louis

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Title: Sketching Secrets

The campus library was your sanctuary. While others flocked to coffee shops or frat houses, you retreated here—far from the judgmental stares and whispers that seemed to follow you everywhere. You weren’t sure when or why you’d become the campus outcast, but it didn’t matter. You had your sketchbook, your pencils, and a cozy corner by the window. That was enough.

Or so you thought.

You were halfway through a drawing when someone slid into the chair across from you. Without looking up, you muttered, “That seat’s taken.”

“By who?” a familiar voice replied. Smooth, warm, teasing.

Your head snapped up, and there he was—Louis Tomlinson, the campus golden boy. He was the guy everyone liked, the guy who could charm a professor one minute and pull off a perfect prank the next. And now, for some inexplicable reason, he was sitting at your table.

“Seriously?” you asked, narrowing your eyes. “What do you want?”

He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “I saw you sketching.”

Your chest tightened as you instinctively closed your sketchbook, clutching it to your chest. “So?”

“So,” he said, tilting his head with that infuriating smirk, “you’re good. Really good. Why are you hiding it?”

“I’m not hiding anything,” you snapped, though your cheeks burned. “And why do you care?”

Louis shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “I guess I’m curious. People are always saying things about you, but they’ve got it wrong.”

Your stomach twisted. “And what exactly do they say?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he replied, shrugging. “Point is, I think you’re more interesting than they realize.”

You scoffed, unsure whether to be flattered or annoyed. “Right. And you figured that out from one drawing?”

“Not just one,” he admitted, pulling a folded piece of paper from his bag. Your eyes widened as you recognized it instantly—it was a sketch you’d left behind in class weeks ago, one you’d assumed had been thrown away. “I found this,” he said, smoothing it out on the table. “And I’ve been looking for you ever since.”

You stared at the sketch—a quick but detailed portrait of a classmate—and then back at Louis, your mind racing. “Why would you keep that?”

“Because it’s brilliant,” he said simply. “And because I wanted to know who made it.”

The library seemed to fall silent as his words sank in. For so long, you’d felt invisible—or worse, like you were only seen for the wrong reasons. But here was Louis Tomlinson, of all people, looking at you like you mattered.

“It’s just a hobby,” you mumbled, lowering your gaze. “Nothing special.”

“It’s more than that,” he insisted. “You’ve got talent. And if you ever want to show it off, I’d love to see more.”

You hesitated, unsure whether to trust him. But there was something in his voice—something genuine—that made you believe him.

“Maybe,” you said quietly, glancing up. “But only if you don’t tell anyone.”

He grinned, leaning in as if to share a secret. “Your secret’s safe with me. But only if you let me sit here again tomorrow.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Why would you want to?”

“Because I like being around you,” he said, his voice soft but steady. “And I like watching you create.”

For the first time in a long time, you felt your walls start to crack. Maybe Louis Tomlinson wasn’t just the golden boy everyone adored. Maybe he was the one person who saw you for who you really were.

And for once, that didn’t seem so bad.

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