He’s alone in the cafeteria again, picking at his freshly washed t-shirt that smells like green apples and strawberries, and it has absolutely nothing to do with a curly haired boy. It was just what he was feeling at the moment.
Anyway, he’s alone and annoyed, because he doesn't like being alone. It makes him feel anxious and edgy and like he looks stupid, which is stupid, because it's not like he's in high school anymore, a lot of people are sitting alone.
But all of that rushes away when he sees a certain gentle boy stumble as gracefully as someone can make tripping look through the doors. The boy looks around, seemingly anxious, and Louis immediately waves him over. When their eyes meet, Harry smiles shyly and nods, making his way to Louis in his trackies and cotton sweater. Louis thinks he looks very warm and cuddly, and all Louis finds himself wanting to do is to wrap his arms around the boy and spoon him hot cocoa.
“Hey mate, how’ve you been?” Louis asks softly, moving so he’s facing Harry at the round table.
Harry smiles up at him from where he’s pulling out his bottle of strawberry milk, fingers poking out from his sweater paws, and Louis sees that they're still painted purple. “I'm alright, how about you?”
Louis props his head up on his hand and pretends like he’s stroking a fake beard, face scrunched up in thought. “Well,” he says, “I washed my clothes. So that’s that, I suppose.”
Harry giggles next to him, his eyes bright.
“No, seriously, you should smell me, c’mon.”
Louis’ pushing his shirt sleeve toward Harry, and Harry laughs, but smells anyway, humming out, “Apples?”
“Green,” Louis nods, adding, “oh, and strawberries.”
“Fits you.” Harry says between sips of his strawberry milk.
“That's what I tho-” Louis’ interrupted by a loud bang, and Harry's entire face contorts in fear. He shrinks back into his chair, eyes wide. It looks as if he is trying to melt into the plastic, completely disappear until he is nothing more than a placemat for dirty feet.
Louis see’s it all, too. He sees the way Harry just falls into himself, shrinks into his anxiety, and it’s like watching a star collapse in on itself in collateral. Absolutely nothing. No flash of light, no seeping life into miraculous beauty. Just - nothing.
It takes a lot to look away, but Louis does, to see that it is Niall who slammed his tray down and scared Harry.
“I just don't see why I was the last to hear about this!” He's saying it to Liam and Zayn who are wrapped around each other behind him, rolling their eyes and muttering different things to him.
Louis turns back to Harry, whose pink cheeks are now a dull white and his lovely fingers are now wringing around one another nervously. Louis feels himself furrowing his eyebrows, filling to the brim with confusion
“Are you alrigh-” he starts to whisper, but Liam interrupts.
“Who’s this, Lou?”
They are now all sitting around the table, Liam and Zayn squished up next together with their fingers entwined under the table. Niall takes advantage of the extra space and spreads his legs out wide.
Above all, they are all staring at Harry like he is the plague, or at least that’s how it feels. Louis feels a disgusting itch under his skin, an itch that is making him want to yell at the others and tell them to stop staring, because something is wrong with Harry, and even though he barely knows the boy he still cares about him, can sense how uncomfortable he is and wants to make it better.
YOU ARE READING
Strawberry Milk L.S.
Teen Fiction"So here's the thing," he starts. "I didn't mean what I said a few weeks ago to like, hurt your feelings or anything. If you like painting your nails, then you should do that, and not like, care if anyone else doesn't like it because their opinions...
