Impossible

The first year Commons are quite accomodating.  Pretty girls lounging about in thin garments, showing off for the equally attractive boys who fool around and try not to stare. If I were straight, my attentions would be solely directed to those girls instead of my studies. Thankfully, I won't have that problem. Just a load of others.

It's been two weeks and this is the first entry. Should I introduce myself? I've heard you should write as if it's to an old friend (or at least someone who won't judge or laugh) but it's difficult to imagine anyone I could trust that much. Perhaps I'll name you Tom Riddle, and I'll be Ginny Weasley, and I'll find my Harry (hahahaha) and we'll get married and all that.

But if that won't happen, as far as I'm concerned. There's too much trouble for that any time soon. Maybe a whole book series worth of trouble. The similarities of my life compared to that of Harry Potter are quite intreguing. I'll have to look into it.

---

Harry shuts the book, blows a puff of air aimed at his dark bangs, stuck to his forehead with sweat. The dorms had no air-conditioning, and in the sweltering heat of late summer the air was still and miserable and heavy on him. He becomes tempted to remove his shirt, to fan himself for the rest of the day and to try and sleep the heat away, but what kind of impression would that leave upon his new roommate? A lazy nudist bum? That could be fun, but Harry shakes away the thought and dries his face with the bottom of his t-shirt, and the door opens.

"Oh, hello," the voice is cheerful enough, and Harry lowers his shirt from his face and replies, "Hi."

The introductions follow, my name is Harry Styles, and I'm a first year nicetomeetyou, they shake hands and he replies with a backstory Harry was neither instrested in nor asked for, but his eyes were lit up nicely, and it kept him distracted enough.

"Anyway, my friends call me Lou." He sets his suitcase on the bed opposite Harry's (the one with the bedding, clearly enough) and plops down.  He seems entirely unbothered by the heat, and Harry is jealous and sweaty. 

"You thirsty?" Louis asks, and Harry is caught off guard. The answer was yes. So he nodded, confused, until the realization of the innocent questioned dawned on him as the other boy reached into his bag and tossed him a flavored water.

Harry realized his mind had been dragging in the gutter, He coughed and swallowed the odd tasting drink. He coughed again, and Louis looked up from his unpacking (his sloppily-folded shirts to the drawers under the bed) concered. "You alright?"

"Yeah, just uh, thinking, ha.." 

"Anything in particular?" Harry couldn't help but notice the way Louis gave off the atmosphere of wanting to know everything, it made him realize how different he and this lad was. Harry liked to keep to himself, not paying attention when people would overshare, he would not partake in gossip either, Louis seemed like the "popular type" the type everyone loved, gossip and all. Maybe being roommates with this "Louis Tomlinson" was not going to be the best idea.