e l e v e n

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eleven | tiny box

Come up close, be under my skin
like fate no end,
you're under my skin

~ 'under my skin' by claudia kane

Harry was early to his first class, but he was distracted. It was a boring class, admittedly, and he had to force himself to pay attention every day, especially given the time that the class started. Today, he just didn't have it in him to do that. But it's not like he could skip, miss out on anything because he didn't know anyone in this class, and had no one he could borrow notes from if he decided to bail.

And he refused to let this thing with Louis complicate his academic life.

As he was walking to his second class of the day, bag slipping down his shoulders because they're so slumped with exhaustion, he passed a bulletin board and stopped. The lime green of the flyer was what caught his eye, a startling bright contrast to the rest of the black and white ads.

Charity Art Class, read the bold headline.

His eyes scanned over the rest of the words quickly. Apparently, it's a six-week art class held at the school between the middle of November to just before the Christmas holidays, where the students would be taught amateur painting, sculpting, and drawing twice a week. At the end of which they'd hold an auction where a final piece by each student would be sold, all proceeds going to charity.

There wasn't a number left to call, but it simply stated that anyone interested was welcome at the free first-day orientation on Monday in Art Room 2 in the west wing at seven.

He really didn't have the time for something like this. There's no room on his plate for an art club, on top of everything else. But he found himself pulling out a phone and taking a picture of the ad anyway, that way he wouldn't forget the details. It'd be nice to do something just for himself. Something that he didn't have to stress over. Something for fun.

He's still not sure, all through his classes, but when he headed to his room afterward, he found himself deterring, heading for Liam and Zayn's room instead. This time the whiteboard read Liam is out, Zayn is in, and Harry knocked quickly before pushing open the door.

Zayn looked up at him from behind his laptop, which he had on his chest while he lied down against the pillows.

"Hey," he said, and then he sneezed and made a pitiful sound. "Come sit."

Harry shut the door and eyes him warily, "Are you sick?"

"A bit," Zayn admitted. He sneezed again and reached for a tissue on the desk beside him. "Okay, a lot. I think I have the flu."

"I'm going to stay over here, then," Harry said, sinking onto Liam's bed. "Do you, like, need anything? I could go and get you a drink or something, or-"

"Nah, it's fine," Zayn shook his but immediately winced at the throb in his head. "Liam's getting me soup and Advil. I'll be okay."

Harry nodded and drummed his fingers on his knees. Zayn pushed the laptop off him and rolled onto his side to face Harry.

"So there's this, like, art class or whatever, starting on Monday, and I thought- I mean, I don't really have the money, and I'd have to eat in the dining hall for weeks instead of- whatever. But it sounds kinda cool", Harry said.

"The Christmas one, right? With the auction at the end?" Zayn asked and Harry nodded. "I'll go with you if that's what you're asking. Sounds cool."

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