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Sexuality is hard for Harry to talk about.
He's been asked a plethora of times who he's interested in, mostly by accusatory "Are you gay?" comments from the bullies at his school. It petrifies him.
He is gay. He's had a certain fondness for boys since eighth grade English, where Nick Grimshaw brushed by him in class and put a hand on the small of his back. That touch still lingers to this day.
It got worse when Louis Tomlinson transferred to his school freshman year. Louis' older, a Junior to Harry's Sophomore, but they spend so much time together at school it's hard to tell.
Harry is wildly smart, in a lot of Louis' upperclassman classes. They do their homework together a lot, at Harry's kitchen table. Sometimes their friend Niall tags along, noticing the way Harry looks at him but not saying a word.
Niall is kind of a lifesaver. He came out to Harry in eighth grade just when Harry was starting to question himself; Niall likes everybody. Harry didn't chime in with an I Like Boys confession because he was still horrified of what he would say, but he's pretty sure Niall knows.
Louis is kind, and incredibly handsome, always wearing these stupid band T-shirts that Harry wants to walk around his house in. He sticks up for Harry when their peers come around, calling him names. He got beat up one time last school year for telling off a homophobe who was accusing he and Harry of having a relationship. Suspended for three days for 'provoking it'.
Harry doesn't let him in his bedroom when they hang out because his stomach aches when they sit on his bed. Too close. Even if there's nobody around to see it, he's worried Louis will run away.
Lunch is Niall's favorite part of the day. He gets to see his two smarter friends for half an hour, and eat. He chucks grapes into Louis' mouth from across the table, and the two laugh so hard tears spring from their eyes.
Louis is late to lunch on June first, citing 'bullshit' as his reason why. He sits across from Harry and Niall to keep Harry from anymore homophobic slurs, setting his lunch tray down.
"What did you get on your Algebra final?" Harry asks, picking through his disgusting hot lunch with his fork.
Louis' angry face softens when he and Harry make eye contact. It makes Harry weak in the knees. "A B+. Thank you for helping me study, H, I owe you my life."
The curly-haired boy just shrugs, ducking his head. "No problem."
"What'd you get, Harry?" Niall asks. He's stuck in Geometry, though Harry helps him with that, too.
"All but one," he frowns. "I hate the Trig section. I was hoping for one hundred."
Louis nudges his foot with his own under the table, smiling at him. "Okay, Smart Guy. You did better than half the class," he teases.
Harry wills away the blush threatening to expose itself on his cheeks.
Niall puts his head in his hands. "Thank God this is our last week," he suddenly picks himself up, leaning closer to the table to be quiet. "And also Pride Month. Yay, Gay people."
That makes Harry's flushed cheeks burn hotter. Louis looks away from him and ruffles Niall's blond hair from across the table. "Happy Pride, Niall."
Harry can't and won't say anything, offering a kind smile instead. He shovels his disgusting lunch into his mouth so he doesn't have to reply.
After lunch, Louis startles him by standing behind his open locker door. "Will you come over tonight? To study?" He asks.
There's only two days left of the school year, but they both have a giant final coming up tomorrow. Harry's been stressing about it since the term started, hearing from his Senior sister that it was hell. "Sure."
"Thank you, Haz," he smiles warmly, nudging his shoulder as he walks away.
He calls him Haz more than he calls him Harry, and Harry's obsessed with it. It's only when he does it that butterflies erupt in his tummy. He knows he has a crush, and it makes him tremble.
Harry suffers through the rest of the school day and then tries not to run to Louis' locker. Last time he'd done that, someone had stuck their foot out and tripped him.
Louis drives them in his beat-up car, a hand-me-down from his stepdad when he turned sixteen. He looks especially cute when he drives; tapping the wheel with his guitar-string-scarred fingers. Harry's watched him play a couple of times since they became friends, at parties and such, and it always leaves him aching for more.
They study on Louis' bed, lying on their stomachs. His shoulder brushes Harry's for hours. Harry can't look at him without thinking about being underneath him on the mattress, kissing him, holding him. He gets up to grab a glass of water because it hurts to breathe.
Louis catches him staring at his acoustic guitar in the corner of his room, on a break from studying because his brain hurts. "We should start a band," the older boy says.
Harry nearly falls off the bed, sitting up cross-cross-applesauce. He chuckles in self-deprecating way. "Yeah, 'cause two guys in a band together won't seem gay at all."
"Who cares?" he shrugs.
"Everyone," the curly-haired boy glares at the mattress.
Louis sets his notebook down on the mattress, done scribbling in it. "Well, I don't."
Harry sits silent for a moment, chewing on his lip. "So if I were gay, you wouldn't mind?" He asks sheepishly, attempting to sound hypothetical.
He turns his head toward him. "No," he scoffs.
His best friend nods to himself. Not another word is uttered, and he's starting to toy with the cuff of his jeans like he does when he gets nervous.
"Why, are you?"
"Huh?" he looks up at him, eyes wide.
Louis moves in his spot to be facing him. "Are you gay?"
There's no fucking way he just asked that. Harry, you're dreaming. You probably fell asleep while Louis was in the bathroom, and this is your wet dream.
"Um... I think so," Harry says. He knows so.
"Really?" Louis asks, sounding genuinely interested. He's still on his stomach, using his hand to prop up his head. "Who else knows?"
He blinks. "Nobody," he shakes his head, curling in on himself.
The boy in front of him hums. Harry has no clue what he's about to say and he doesn't think he wants to know. "So why'd you tell me first?" he questions.
This is a trap, Harry. You're going to confess your gay little crush for him and then Simon is going to pop out from the bush outside the window with his camera out. Then he's going to out you to the entire school, and you'll be so traumatized you'll have to drop out.
"Hey," Louis snaps him back into the real world, reaching up to wipe a stray tear from Harry's cheek.
"Huh? Sorry," he didn't even realize he was crying.
"I'm sorry I asked. You don't have to tell me."
Harry watches as Louis moves to get off the bed, and his heart races. He squeezes his eyes shut in order to avoid Louis' face when he says, "I like you."
Louis settles back on the bed, frozen in place. "What?" he sounds curious, and not revolted like Harry was afraid of.
"I-I like you. That's why I told you first."
"Like... You have a crush on me?" He starts to smile.
"I think so."
He almost jolts when Louis touches his leg, holding his ankle. "You think so, or you know so?"
He wants to puke, still convinced this is either a dream or an elaborate trick. "I have for a long time."
Louis hums to himself, moving closer. "Can I kiss you?" his voice is quiet, though the bedroom door is closed and nobody's home.
"Can you pinch me?"
He does, pinching his skin gently with a chuckle. He leans up a little, getting closer than he ever has. "Can I kiss you, Haz?" he asks again.
Harry is going to have a heart attack, watching his friend's eyes glance at his lips and then back up. He swallows thickly. "Can a cockroach live without a head for a week?"
"Excuse me?"
"Yes, Louis," he sighs. "I was trying to ask you something with a 'yes' answer, to be funny, but it's true. Cockroaches—"
Louis cuts him off, pressing their lips together. His cold hand makes contact with Harry's cheek, but he feels warm all over.
Harry has the overwhelming urge to cry, but he flushes it down while Louis nudges him to his back. It's literally everything he's ever dreamed of.
"I like you, Haz," the boy on top of him murmurs when he's done kissing him, their foreheads together.
"You do?" Harry looks up at him, a hopeful smile on his kiss-ridden lips.
Louis chuckles again. "You think I got beat up for you because we're friends?"
He cups Louis' face in his hands, shaking a little. "Technically, that wasn't because of me. You're just a troublemaker."
"Hush, Smart Guy."
"Make me."
They continue to kiss. Harry's trying to make up for the last two years of not being able to do so. Louis turns up his radio on his nightstand to a slow jazz song, tuning out the rest of the world.
Louis tries to find their favorite kissing position, with Harry now on top of him, and the next song ends just as his bedroom door opens.
Niall is in the doorway with his backpack slung over one shoulder, open-mouth gaping at the two boys in Louis' bed. Harry flies off the mattress and tries to roll underneath it like he was never there.
"What's up, Niall?" Louis says weakly, covering his half-unbuttoned jeans.
"I left my textbook here last weekend, do you have it?"
He sighs, pointing across the room. "Yeah, it's on my desk."
Niall walks to it and picks it up, rolling his eyes at the boy on the floor. "Hi, Harry."
"Don't," Harry groans, his face in his hands.
The blond grabs his things and is about to flee the scene, shouting, "Hasta la vista, Gay People," on the way out the door.