Harry Styles Imagines

Mute

- Where Harry doesn't talk and falls in love with Y/n.

It's Monday, which means that Harry has to start his week with Physics class.

Harry doesn't mind the subject itself, he actually has come to the conclusion that it's the class he's most interested in—it's more so the three-hour lab that couldn't seem to end soon enough. Physics lab means three hours of group research, which requires an abundance of group participation and discussion—all of which makes Harry want to crawl out of his own skin.

And despite Physics holding Harry's highest grade in university, everyone in that class only hopes to not be paired with him.

Not one student has heard him utter a single word, which ultimately led them to believe that his lack of participation will jeopardize their already mediocre grades. But Harry always finds himself writing all the data information to make up for his lack of discussion, even if he hated it.

So inevitably, Harry lets out an inaudible sigh when he settles into his chair, hair a bit disheveled and eyes still watering from the early hour. And he mentally curses himself for sleeping in a couple extra minutes because now he hasn't gotten a single ounce of caffeine to help him feel more prepared for the next three hours.

Before he can even consider closing his eyes until lab starts, Professor Beau is walking into the room with a scoff on his face, a folder filled with assignments nearly falling from under his arm, and an extra large coffee being held mercilessly in his hand.

All the slight muttering between the students come to a halt upon his entry, not daring to make his mornings any more miserable by breaking any of his rules.

He slams the folders down harshly on his desk, grunting when some of the coffee spills from the cup while doing so. He grumbles before looking at the students waiting patiently for their lab assignment.

"Today's lab will only be done with one partner, and you both will be conducting Conservative Force Systems. We will be working with several apparatuses—which, as you can see, is all set up for you—in order to determine the spring constant. Upon your research, you are expected to write a five-page paper on the correlation between your data versus Hook's Law and Spring Constant. All the rest of the information will be handed to you shortly after you've settled with your partners."

It's the first time Professor Beau is letting the students pick their own partners (he normally takes the time to make a ten minute lecture on how it's statistically proven that college students perform better when the professor makes the group decisions), which ultimately gives Harry the impression that everyone in the class will scatter like sardines just so they won't have to be stuck with the wordless boy (even if he's the only student with an A in the class).

So, he remains seated in his lab chair, his finger fiddling with the vertical spring in the middle of the table as he rests his head on his free hand.

He's waiting for the monotonous voice that comes with whoever didn't pick their lab partner fast enough—waiting for the inevitable tension that came with every other student he's come into contact with. But instead of awkward silences and unsure tones, Harry's greeted with an all too ecstatic, yet all too familiar voice.

"Hi, Harry!"

And fuck, fuck, fuck, it's Y/n.

She makes Harry nervous all the time, but not the kind of nervous he constantly feels—more so the type of nervous that makes him nearly trip over his own feet whenever he walks by her, or the type of nervous that makes him drop all his belongings whenever she gives him the time of day.