Conformity (Larry Stylinson AU)

Three.

Every time I see Louis with Isla I feel physically ill. She's so giggly and flowery around him and he tries so hard to reciprocate, but you can tell that he is not enjoying himself. I don't know if it is because he's fighting his sexuality or not. The fact of the matter just happens to be that he does not have feelings for that girl.

The best part of my day is still engaging in small-talk with Louis, however. I'm hopeless.

"Harry, how do I do this?" Louis whispers in the mists of our pop-quiz.

I grant him a wide eyed look, meaning shut up, you're gonna get us both in trouble. He lets out a frustrated sigh, weaving his fingers through his well-kept hair. I feel myself softening when I hear him muttering self-destructive phrases about how stupid he is.

Louis isn't stupid, but he's also not focused, I've noticed. If he'd sit down and put his attention towards what we're learning, he'd probably do fairly well. Out of pity, I scoot a bit closer to him and slide my paper in his direction. I do my best to make it as inconspicuous as possible, but it probably looks a bit noticeable.

His blue eyes gaze at me innocently for a minute before darting down to the paper and examining my work as I continue to fill answers out. Normally I'd condemn someone for copying off of me on a test-style thing, but I obviously make exceptions for Louis. It's not my responsibility to make sure he isn't upset in anyway, but if I can help I think I always will.

"Thanks," He murmurs when class is over and all the tests are turned in. I give him a small smile as we collect our things. "I just don't get this rubbish."

I shrug. "S'just some math with fancy words."

"I suck at math. And everything else academically, for that matter," Louis says as we head out of the room.

"Then why are you in three advanced placement classes with me?"

Louis shrugs, "I guess I'm a good test taker."

I shake my head, "You're smart, Lou. You just have to apply yourself a bit more. Glancing at a problem and immediately deciding you can't do it does't mean you're stupid."

"It means I'm lazy, I know. That's what my parents always say."

"I'm not calling you lazy," I amend. "I'm saying you're smart enough to do everything you don't know how to do yet."

He huffs as I open my locker to retrieve my history text-book. Leaning against the adjacent locker, he explains, "It's so hard to concentrate. It's like I'm paying attention to what the teacher is saying and taking notes but when it comes time to actually do it I'm lost."

"I know what you mean. It probably has something to do with the fact that you're at the top of the social food chain and have parents that push you to not be lazy."

Louis hums in agreement as we make our way to the next class. My mouth spits out a suggestion before my brain gives consent. "You know, I could help you study after school one day. Maybe you could work better with someone one on one."

I felt a disturbance in my stomach immediately. In my mind I had basically asked him to hang out with me in a non-platonic way, even though he had no speculations of this. He nods, "Yeah, that would be brilliant. I haven't got practice on Wednesdays, does that work for you?"

I scoff, "Everyday works for me."

Louis gives me an eye-roll and a small smile as we step into the classroom. "It's a date, then, Styles."

"Good, then, Tomlinson."

With that he steps over to his desk across the room and leaves me with my melted-chocolate feelings and mushy thoughts as the bell rings and the emanate torture of history begins.