By the time he's standing up and brushing himself off, Louis looks properly fucked. Like the full-on 'just had sex and the world is a little hazy' look. Hair mussed, red lips, and even a little bit of saliva (or is it cum? He isn't sure) bubbles in the corner of his mouth.

Harry looks more or less the same as they look in the bathroom mirror at one another, catching their breath. Harry's hair, which was previously in a proper quiff, is now falling in his eyes in a mess of tousled curls. He tucks it behind his ear before Louis gets a chance to do just that.

"Well," Louis clears his throat awkwardly, "that was nice."

Harry lets out a sarcastic laugh, staring at Louis through the smudged mirror with unamused eyes. "Nice? I just sucked your dick and all you can say is 'that was nice'? Wow, I must really be losing my touch."

Louis slaps his shoulder and throws Harry's blazer at him with unnecessary force. "You know what I mean, dumbass."

"Hmm, if you say so," Harry hums. The slow rumbling sound shoots straight through Louis' body.

"Oh, and by the way," Harry adds, pointing at Louis with a long index finger, "you've got a little something on your cheek there, darling."

Louis goes up to rub it away, and it feels cool and slick beneath the back of his hand. "Ew, gross. It's your fucking cum, you dipshit."

"Hey, you swallowed it."

"Against my will."

"Says who?"

"Me."

"I'm pretty sure you're the one who insisted I come in your mouth and on your face when my cock was down that pretty little throat of yours just a few minutes ago. So the fact that you're calling it gross now is a little after the fact, don't you think?"

"Oh god, you really are unbearable," Louis groans, plucking his own suit coat from off of its peg and slipping it on. He uses his purple pocket square to wipe his face off (just in case). It comes back damp and Louis curses under his breath, shoving it in his pants pocket instead of refolding it.

Leave it to Harry to most likely ruin his favorite pocket square with his leftover cum.

"I need to get to class," Louis says abruptly when Harry flashes a wild grin. "Can't believe this just happened," Louis adds, more to himself than to anyone.

"Just trying to help you make lasting memories before we go to uni!" Harry shouts after him, but Louis has already flung the bathroom door open and walked out backward for the sole purpose of flipping Harry off.

**

"Ah, Louis, lovely for you to join us." Sr. Alejandro says when Louis gets back to class, one of those annoyed, unamused teacher looks gracing his face. Louis could've done without him stopping the entire class to greet him.

Louis slides into his seat, grimacing in pained embarrassment as he crosses his legs to cover a particular... stain on his pants. It wasn't there a half hour ago, that's for sure.

Louis can feel his teacher's eyes on him, along with the better half of the class. "There was a long line for the bathroom."

Sr. Alejandro's lips purse into a tight line, a small dimple poking into his left cheek behind his barely there beard. Louis feels like there's a rock sinking in his stomach. He doesn't believe Louis at all.

"Ah yes, a long line for the bathroom in a school that has approximately one bathroom for every ten kids. ¡Qué pena!"

He says nothing more as he hands a worksheet to Louis (er/ir irregular verb conjunctions. The worst.) and leaves to go grade at his desk. Louis lets out a little sigh of relief that he wasn't yelled at worse because he completely lied through his teeth.

Maybe this doesn't have to go south. He could salvage this.

But no.

By the end of class, just as Louis is about to leave, Sr. Alejandro calls him over to his desk. Louis' stomach twists into something short of a pretzel, and he really hopes that Sr. Alejandro hadn't walked by the bathroom during his and Harry's...er...adventures.

It's not like they were the quietest people in the world. But when Harry blew him, at least Harry had the common sense to muffle Louis' moaning by gagging him with his navy pocket square.

In hindsight, that was quite a smart thing to do. It was oddly pleasurable, too (even if Louis told Harry it was a shit idea. He needs to keep Harry's ego in check.)

The professor's face is stony when Louis walks up, and he raises an eyebrow while Louis squirms in discomfort. "Louis, do you know why I called you up here?"

"Yes?" Louis shuffles his bag from one shoulder to the other as Sr. Alejandro doesn't stop staring at him. "I mean, yes—sí, Señor."

"Care to tell me why you skipped nearly half of class today? I can't imagine you were having your period or anything of the sorts, so spit it out."

I just had mutual blowjobs with an old friend turned enemy turned acquaintance. "I had to take a poop, Sr."

"A.. poop?"

"Yes."

"And you were gone for half an hour because of it?"

Louis hopes a piano falls on top of him for the sole purpose of ending this uncomfortable conversation. "Uh, yeah." Louis scratches the back of his neck, which only makes him think of Harry pulling on his hair. What terrible timing.

"It's diarrhea. I have diarrhea," Louis wants to die. "And sometimes when I eat cheese it gets really bad. I have to rush to the bathroom and I-"

"¡Necesitas parar! I've heard enough. Please stop talking about your bowel movements. If something like this happens in the future, I just kindly ask you to let me know in advance, or go to the nurse if you're having health issues."

"I will. Thank you, sir. This won't happen again, I promise." Louis lets out a nervous laugh. "No more cheese for me!" God, this is the worst conversation he's ever had.

"Now get moving before next block starts. Please have today's class assignments and the homework completed by tomorrow. I'm grading it on accuracy, not just completion. Adios, Louis." Sr. Alejandro dismisses him, and Louis flees out of the classroom like his pants are caught aflame.

Cheese and diarrhea? Fucking Harry. This is his fault.

**

When Louis arrives at ceramics class, Harry is already there. He's talking to Thomas and Juan Luis at their table, a wide smile on his face. Louis watches for a moment as Harry throws his head back in laughter, which in turn, makes Louis think of something entirely different than innocent laughing.

He clears his throat awkwardly and makes his way over to the table, trying to keep his eyes on Thomas and Juan Luis instead of the boy with the suspiciously messy curls. Louis had stopped by a different bathroom while changing classes to rinse and dry the stain from his pants, so he prays the others don't notice anything... strange between Louis and Harry.

The one good part about this class is that the tables are square, and Harry sits across from Louis. In other words, there's no possible way that he can touch Harry while hiding it from the rest of the class (because apparently blow jobs with Harry have completely obliterated his lack of self-control and spiked his horniness. Go figure.)

But unfortunately, his eyes still find themselves straying toward Harry's crotch, no matter how much he wills them to stay focused on Juan Luis' silver necklace. The necklace charm is one of an intricately shaped dragon, but it simply doesn't hold Louis' attention.

"Louis!" Thomas' accent is thicker than usual, and he has a dopey smile on his face. "You won't believe the surprise I have for you."

Louis raises an eyebrow and slings his bag off his shoulder, letting it drop to the ground by his feet. Rookie mistake. The leather immediately becomes covered in shavings from previous students' projects, and Louis begins to cough, waving the dusty air away from his face in the process.

"What is it?" Louis asks once he finally caught his breath. He shakes the dust off of his bag and places it gingerly on his stool instead. "It better not be something stupid again. If you show me another nude picture of one of your fucking 'husband' hockey players, we're gonna have issues."

Thomas slams his hand on the table in a half-joking manner. "It was one time! And Zdeno Chara is banging in that photoshoot. You can't deny it. Did you even see his ass?"

"Yeah, Lou, I know you liked it," Juan Luis says jokingly.

Out of the corner of Louis' eye, he sees Harry turn to him with a strange look on his face. He'd been working on his project, but Juan Luis' comment peaked his attention as he stared at Louis with knit eyebrows. Louis ignores him (for now).

"The teacher almost caught you staring at his picture, you know," Juan Luis added, poking at Louis' arm. "You were practically drooling. Thomas was too. He was all over that picture."

"Was not," Louis huffs defensively. Harry scoffs sarcastically to his left, and Louis' stomach jumps.

"Shh, my little blossom," Thomas presses his finger to Juan Luis' lips, talking over Louis. "He's gorgeous and tall. I like tall people."

"I'm not tall, and you still like me!" A voice sounds out from nowhere, a pretty southern accent floating through the air.

Louis squints his eyes in Thomas' direction. "What are you hiding there, Tommy? Got a possum in your pocket or summat?"

"I appreciate your flair for the dramatics, Berg, but I'm getting up from here." The faceless voice says behind Tommy, and a half reaches out to massage the boy's shoulders from behind.

Louis cranes his neck to the side as someone steps into view. And... this must be Fritz. Thomas only talks about them nonstop, twenty-four hours a day. He's like a fucking fangirl.

In all of their grand, beautiful, academia-looking glory, they smile at everyone at the table.

Shit, Louis thinks. They're even prettier in person

They look like a model. Like a proper, full-on model. Fritz probably has Louis Vuitton on speed dial, and Gucci saved as their emergency contact. They're unbelievable.

It helps that all Louis can remember are the Instagram pictures where Fritz was posing like one, but regardless, Fritz has the strikingly sharp and angular model face that frankly intimidates Louis. And Louis isn't easily intimidated.

They're probably one of the only people that actually look like they enjoy wearing the school uniforms, especially the little pocket squares, which Fritz seems to fold neater and tighter than Louis has ever been able to manage.

"Hi," Their smile presents dimples on either side of their face, and light and crinkling lines crease around their dark brown eyes. "I'm Fritz. It's lovely to meet y'all."

They stick their hand out to everyone at the table in turn, shaking lightly like a proper refined person. Fritz lingers on Thomas specifically, leaving their hands intertwined for a moment longer than truly needed. Then they lean down to Thomas' ear and say something that makes him turn a bright red. Finally, Fritz plants a little kiss on the top of Thomas' head and leans their hands on the table.

Louis takes notes of the prominent veins in their hands, like little rivets pressing up against their dark skin. Harry must notice too, for he shoots Louis another look. At this, Louis tears his eyes away and distracts himself by fixing his hair instead.

"So, you're the famous ceramics gang I keep hearing all about?" Fritz grins. "Has Thomas been behaving? Listening to the teacher and all that?"

Louis smirks. "He skips all the time. Quite the rebel there." He glances at Harry after speaking, only to find that Harry's sporting a friendly smile on his face. It doesn't quite reach his eyes like it normally does, and he returns to his resting face in seconds, slightly squinted eyes never leaving Fritz.

Fritz gives Thomas a little flick on the cheek, laughing with the group. "You dumbass. This is one of your most important classes. I'm best friends with Mr. Hood. Watch." They cup their hands around their mouth and shout towards the teacher's desk. "Hey! How are you doing, Cal?"

Mr. Hood (Cal? That's a cool name.) rolls his eyes and continues sculpting the pot on his throwing wheel, his face hard set in concentration. "Fritz, aren't you supposed to be in class right now?" He calls back, not even bothering to look up.

They shrug. "Maybe I switched to this one."

"You better be joking."

"Yeah, I am. Tell me if Thomas here is being annoying, hm?"

Mr. Hood stares at his pot, angling his hands so the pot begins to grow in height (really, it was almost at a full two feet. Crazy shit.) "We both know he's an angel student. Now get back to class before your teacher rings me up asking for your whereabouts."

"Alright," Fritz turns back to the table. "Well, I really should get going. See you later, darling." A kiss for Thomas. "It was really nice meeting y'all. I hope we can talk again soon! If 'ole Cal doesn't notice, maybe I'll slip in here again soon. Seems like a way cooler class than Honors Calc."

"Yeah, swing by some time," Louis' smile grows wide. He stands up to search for some clay for his brand-new snake project (and maybe to offer Fritz a nice - platonic - handshake). "It was nice meeting you, too!"

"Oh, and Louis?" Louis turns to find Fritz at the door with a shit-eating grin on their face. "Carry some makeup for those hickeys if you don't want the dean seeing them. I can spot them from a mile away."

And then Fritz skips out of the door, leaving Louis to the sharks sitting at his ceramics table. He can feel his face burning with the pure embarrassment of being caught. He does his best to cover his neck with his hand and contemplates calling Lottie and begging her for some makeup.

He was so careful about the stain on his pants, trying to get rid of it so no one would notice. How the actual fuck did he not notice dark neck hickeys in his thorough once-over in the bathroom mirror before going to ceramics?

By the time Louis turns back to the table, Thomas and Juan Luis are laughing their asses off and Harry is staring at the floor, biting his bottom lip to hide the upward curve of his lips. That fucker. Louis feels like he wants to drop dead.

For the first few minutes it's nearly silent, only periodically punctured by boyish giggles from Thomas and Juan Luis. Eventually, the pair clearly grow tired of laughing at Louis' expense and begin to interrogate Louis about the bites instead. Thomas is most interested in where he got them (for 'research purposes') while Juan Luis wants to know who gave them to Louis.

When the 'who?' question arises, Harry's hidden yet smug smirk quickly turns into a look of one completely mortification. Serves him right.

"Guys," Louis snaps. "Stop! I don't wanna talk about it, alright?" He shrugs. "It wasn't important then, and it isn't important now. It's nothing. Nothing."

Louis steals a little glance toward Harry, and an unexpected pang of guilt hits him. Harry looks hurt. He looks more hurt than he did at the hospital, at the playground, and more hurt than the time he was talking about his parents. He looks like his favorite belonging had just been run over by a car right in front of his eyes.

Suddenly, Louis desperately wishes Harry still had that stupidly smug and moronic smirk on his face.

Harry knows he didn't mean it like that, right? He's not nothing, but Louis can't exactly start blabbing about how Harry sucked hickeys into his neck an hour ago, either.

Harry's being unfair.

And that same Harry is currently picking up his bag, saying he's going to get a drink of water. He says he only needs a couple of minutes to himself, and he'll see them later, but regardless, he asks Thomas if he could put his art project away for him, something everyone does at the end of class.

Mr. Hood asks him if he's okay, and Harry shrugs but is given the go-ahead to go on his walk. Before Harry leaves, he looks over his right shoulder to look at Louis. Hurt is etched in hard lines all over his face as he stares at him.

A look with the words "I hate you" branded into his eyes burns in Louis' mind long after Harry's left the classroom.

***

sorry for the late update. i just got out of surgery 2 hours ago and finished writing this for you guys as fast as I could

big thanks to rue who did tons of writing for this chapter and for fritz!!

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