Alone Together

⋆five.

Louis' POV:

I walked into class, humming the newest tune from Ellie Goulding. My eyes skim over the pupils in the classroom, but I'm unable to find any of my friends.

I sign, and begin to walk up the last row on the left, to where my seat is. Harry is beside me, and I have a boy named George in front of me, with Stan beside me. I actually don't mind the seating arrangement, the only problem I have with it is Harry's crude comments. Although some of them are hilarious, some make me cringe.

"Prince." Harry's low voice greets me, and I roll my eyes.

"Harry," I greet, looking up at the punk. He wears a black sweater that drapes off of his shoulders almost artfully, with his black skinnies and boots. "you're missing a piercing." I comment, noting that the metal in his nose is gone.

"It was beginning to bother me." Harry shrugs, and slips into his seat. I find it funny, his long legs having to be scrunched up.

"Oh?"

"I'm not a fan of nose piercings." Harry mumbles, and I snicker.

"Then why do you have one?"

"Because at the time, I did." Harry grumbles, and I nod in understanding.

"So what do you think this project will be?" I wonder, and Harry's only response is a yawn.

"Tommo!" Stan's shout rings through the room, and I hear Harry murmur something under his breath. I hope my flinch wasn't visible. "Eleanor said yes!" Stan continues, and I turn back to grin widely at him.

"That's awesome!" Stan has been hopelessly chasing after my best friend for ages, and only recently had the guts to ask her out.

"Shit man, I almost pissed myself." Stan groans, but his cheeks are flushed a light red. I giggle, and in my peripheral vision, I see Harry's head turn to me.

"It's a good thing you didn't, I'm sure she would've said no then." I tease, my lips pulling into a smirk.

"Possibly." Stan chuckles, flopping down into his seat. His eyes flicker to Harry, then back to be in question. It's obvious he still doesn't understand that we're friends... if that.

"G'morning class." Mrs. Powell's eccentric voice greets the small population of students. Her bright red hair is untamed, and her glasses are lopsided on her head. She's a wonderful mess. "Steven, help me with this." the kid stumbles from his seat, eager to help the teacher.

"Oh shit, the project is being assigned today." Stan says, and I nod slowly.

"Watch it Stan." Mrs. Powell warns, but her eyes are alight with humor.

"How can he get away with it, but I can't?" Harry complains, and I laugh at his childish pout.

"Because he doesn't swear like a sailor, Styles." Mrs. Powell says before getting back to whatever she was doing.

"It's chilly." I mumble, feeling my teeth start to chatter. She always has her room to the point of freezing, and I have a love-hate relationship with her because of it.

"Not really." Harry comments, and I turn to glare at him.

"Says the one that has a sweater on!" I snap, and Harry's emerald tinted eyes roll.

"Says the one that has on shorts." Harry retorts.

"Because it's still considered summer!"

"But it's raining!"

"So?"

"If you're not going to regard the weather, deal with it."

"No."