Mute Larry Stylinson Harry!Mute

Friday 9

Friday 9

Louis spotted Harry from afar; he could spot those distinguishable curls from any distance. He scuttled through the school gates, past the groups of people making their way into the school grounds. He could only see the back of Harry, leaning against the car, and could just make out the figures of two women beside him. He quickened his pace, his Converse padding on the gravel as he got closer. He could see Anne’s body as she was standing facing him, but he couldn’t see the other female face as her back was facing him. But he had an inkling as to who it was.

He noticed Anne’s eyes glance over to him, and then her gesture his entrance to Harry. Harry’s head shot around immediately, along with the girl’s too. His face lit up with a happy and relieved expression, and he scampered over to Louis quickly.

Louis took in the younger boy’s outfit as the boy approached him. He’d wanted Louis to help him choose what to wear, but with late practising on a Friday, Louis didn’t have the chance to call over. He trusted Anne to make the right decision if Harry was stuck, and it seemed like she had. Because Harry was performing, he couldn’t look sloppy. He had to look smart, that was what he was told. Louis knew it was a monumental moment for Harry, to show himself in different attire to his school clothes for presumably one of the first times –especially when all eyes would be on him–, but with the smart dress code he couldn’t really stray from the usual school wear.

However, he wore a crisp white shirt that looked thick and had the small, dark blue Abercrombie&Fitch logo on, tucked into his low slung black skinny jeans which were held up by a brown belt. Louis thought he looked gorgeous, hot, fit, and any other word which just screamed sex. The way the shirt was tucked in and his pants were low extenuated his long torso, which Louis had so many times admired. Maybe it was becoming some sort of, at the risk of sounding crude, fetish he had with the boy.

Louis couldn’t hold back the grin on his face, white teeth baring in all their fineness, and he pulled Harry into a hug straight away. Harry didn’t fight the hug, only because he was evidently nervous as hell. His breathing was ragged and his hands were shaking as they came to rest on Louis’ back.

"Hey, hey," Louis began softly in Harry’s ear. "Calm down, Haz, it’s going to be fine."

He pulled back to see Harry’s face in full view. The younger boy’s face was cast downwards with his curls falling over his eyes. Louis hesitantly placed his finger under Harry’s chin, and raised it to normal level slowly. Harry’s green eyes were shut softly, scared to open and face reality.

"Look at me," Louis whispered. Harry shook his head weakly, a furrow forming between his eyebrows.

"Harry, look at me," Louis repeated, sound coming through his voice.

After a scrunch of his features, Harry finally cracked his eyes open into the depth of Louis’ blue orbs. Louis stared right back at him, not allowing Harry to break the eye contact for the first time since they’d met.

Harry needed it; he didn’t want to stop it. Louis’ eyes were pools of aqua that had reassurance, hope and pride floating on the surface as specks of green and gold.  They seemed endless, like the colour went on forever and ever.

Harry hadn’t looked in many eyes, but he was sure these eyes in front of him were the best you could find.

Louis, on the other hand, had seen the green orbs before him already, but that wasn’t to say he’d seen them so close. He’d had flashes, glimpses, of the beauty. It sound cliché and cheesy, but Louis couldn’t help but immerse himself in the perfect shade of green that drenched Harry’s wide eyes. They shone with inexplicable worry, but had a hint of ambition.