Hold me close {{Larry one-shots and drabbles}}[ON HOLD]

I start to feel those butterflies when I'm next to you

 “Can I sit here?” a soft voice jolts Louis from his reverie, and he blinks up to tall, bespectacled boy shuffling around nervously.

“Yeah, yeah,” Louis replies as he sweeps the enormous amount of papers he’s scattered on the desk towards him, watching from out of the corner of his eye as the boy sits down in the seat opposite him.

Louis thinks he knows the boy but he isn’t sure and he sure as hell isn’t going to start a conversation with the boy. Louis doesn’t do well in striking up conversations. The boy is reading a well-worn paperback and Louis itches to know which book it is. He uses the opportunity to observe the boy in front of him. He’s tall, taller than Louis and that makes Louis frown because he’s just been reminded of just how small he is.  He has curly hair, carefully styled and he’s dressed in khakis paired with a button-down.

Louis just doesn’t want to admit that the boy looks good, even though he hasn’t seen his face properly yet.

They spent the rest of the hour in complete silence, Louis finishes the report he’s been working on for ages and he drops the pen with a loud sigh causing the boy to look up.

Fuck.

Louis wishes he hadn’t done that because now he knows that the boy has green eyes, plump lips and even though the glasses are ridiculously big, hipster like they look good on him.

“Are you all right?” the boy asks , his voice is deep but the way he talks is slow, measured and Louis immediately decides that he likes the way he speaks.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” Louis says in a rush because he’s making conversation with a complete stranger and no, no, Louis doesn’t do that.

“It’s okay.” The boy smiles just enough for Louis to see dimples appear and Louis immediately looks down and that’s that.

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The next day when Louis comes into the library to his usual seat by the window, the boy is already there. Louis stops in his tracks and just stares.

The boy is sleeping, his head lolling gently against the chair, an open notebook in front of him. Louis thinks that maybe he should just leave because he doesn’t want to disturb someone sleeping. But then he doesn’t, moving slowly and as quietly as he can and settling down in the chair opposite.

The boy doesn’t wake up, just snores lightly and Louis can’t help but smile fondly at that. He starts to work on his History assignment, regularly sneaking glances at the boy in front of him. Louis may or may not have focused on those bow-shaped lips a little longer than necessary.

Louis won’t tell anyone but it’s been a wonderful day.

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Louis is walking back home, it’s a long way but Louis likes it. He likes it that he’s alone with his music and the fact that he doesn’t have to talk to people. It’s even better because he’s nursing a split lip, and he keeps wiping his sleeve across it every few moments. Rodney had cornered him after school and there were some choice abuses and some pushing against the lockers and finally the punch to his mouth.

Louis doesn’t cry.

A hand yanks at his shirt and Louis turns around in alarm, which then turns into utter surprise when he sees it’s the boy from the library.

In front of him.

Louis wipes at his mouth again, trying not to wince at the sting of it.  The boy’s gaze is focused on Louis, and those green eyes seem unusually darker than Louis has seen them.