L

After Louis spent a few minutes feeling sorry for himself, he sat up with a start, realizing that although his text notifications were set so that they would not appear on the screen and the phone had to be unlocked to view them, any phone calls would appear and show the contact name. So, if Mr. Styles called for some reason and his mom was still holding onto his phone, she might ask who this 'H' was. Or answer it. Shit.

Louis wracked his brain for how to warn Mr. Styles not to contact him. Then he hustled downstairs, hearing his mother vacuuming in the living room. Perfect.

He speed walked into the small den where the desktop computer was set up, his heart pounding as he turned it on. "Hurry up," he muttered, moving the mouse around. He logged into his school email, rushing to compose a short message.

grounded 2 weeks. mom has phone don't contact
love, louis

He cursed and backspaced, deleting the 'love' part and simply signing it as 'louis', then clicked send. He deleted it from his sent folder, and checked the replies from his other teachers giving him the homework for the day since he'd missed school. It felt good to be reminded that Mr. Styles had been thoughtful enough to email his teachers for him while he recovered from subspace, and rearrange his own day to stay at home with Louis. Even if he was maybe just covering his own ass to keep themselves under everyone's radar and Louis supervised while he was so out of it.

He wrote down the assignments, logged out and turned off the computer. The sound of the vacuum silenced and he made it into the kitchen so fast that he skidded on his socks.

His mother entered the kitchen to begin dinner, the mood between them still tense. "Um, mom?" Louis asked and she acknowledged him with a hum.

"I left my bag in the car from practice and I need to bring it in to wash my uniform. Can I have my keys for a minute?"

She sighed and disappeared to another room, apparently having hid them. For god's sake. She handed them over wordlessly and Louis went out to his car, not really giving a shit about the uniform, it was something else he was after.

He rustled through his duffel bag, finding the already worn white tee he'd borrowed/snuck from Mr. Styles and stuffed it into his practice bag, along with his toothbrush and moisturizer, before zipping it up and going back inside. His mom was chopping vegetables and paused to take the keys and cell phone back, pocketing them and waiting until Louis was upstairs to return them to the hiding spot, behind the large silver platter in her china cabinet. She hadn't felt the need to hide Louis' possessions as punishment since he was in seventh grade and got in a fight with another boy at school, named Nick or Rick or something.

He'd been teased about the flamboyant way he walked and Louis had snapped back, saying Nick looked like 'a cold, crusty ass grilled cheese of a person that no one wanted to fuck.' Yeah, Louis got in a bit of trouble for that. Detention for a week and his video game controller taken away for two. He'd had a meltdown when he couldn't get his fix of soccer games and it was pointed out to him that he could just practice for real in the backyard. Louis'd never been able to handle being told he couldn't do something.

Eighteen years old and still getting grounded like a fucking child. Louis went upstairs, stuffing the white tee under his pillow, and decided he might as well catch up on the work he'd fallen behind on while he'd been occupied with being all spacey and cuddling with Mr. Styles today. He sighed, missing the man already.

-

That night he fell asleep with the collar of Mr. Styles' shirt pulled up close to his nose, softly sniffing the comforting scent of his daddy, the bunched fabric clutched in his fists and pressed against his chest, soothing him into the slow breaths that came right before falling asleep. As he drifted off he noted that the smell was a little different, lacking one less element, and a little sweeter. He couldn't place what was missing (the pungent scent of alcohol), but regardless, it was still familiar, and he still loved it.

Mr. Styles

Mr. Styles was scrolling through his emails, getting a sense of things he needed to take care of when he paused on a name. Louis Tomlinson. He opened that one first.

He read the brief words, then read them again, staring at the screen until the brightness blurred the words and made him blink. He deleted the email, squeezing the pen he was holding in his hand, the subtle sweat in his palm making it slide a little. He cleared his throat, sat forward in his chair and turned all of his attention to his work.

-

There was a small surge of something hot and rushing in the middle of his chest when he finally sat back and took a break. A little voice in the back of his mind taunting him with the possibility that he and Louis could be exposed, or hell, already had been and there would be a shit storm awaiting him tomorrow morning. He had almost no information, he knew this, and his logic and self control fought to win out in his mind, had him swallowing down the unfounded fear and jumped from his seat, thinking that now was the perfect time for a several mile run.

The sky was dim and the weather cool, his neighborhood peaceful as he listened to his neon Nike sneakers hitting the pavement rhythmically. About two miles into the brisk run he decided he would have to find a way to talk privately with Louis tomorrow, and that staying after was no longer an option. At least, for now it wasn't.

He pushed himself until his muscles and lungs burned and his skin glistened with cold sweat. He kept going as if on autopilot for another half mile, before changing course and heading back home, the nervous energy dispelled by exhaustion.

Mr. Horan

The blonde leaned against the counter of the brightly lit teacher's lounge, blowing carefully on his steaming mug of coffee, doing his best to politely reply to the brunette woman flirting with him about how the spring weather was bringing out the platinum in his hair and it suited him. Please don't try to ask me out, not interested. Harry strode in, saying 'hello's' here and there, pausing near Niall to pour himself a cup as well. Thank god, a way out of this.

Niall flashed a fake smile. "Sorry, I've got to talk to Harry, if you don't mind." The woman trailed off and reluctantly left. "Bye, Felicia!" Harry rolled his eyes at the woman after she'd walked away.

"Friend of yours?"

"Not really. She seems to think so, though. Are you better already?"

Harry stirred milk into his coffee. "Yeah, just a twenty four hour thing. I woke up feeling fine. How are things with you?"

The two lapsed into conversation, making their usual walk down the hall and stairs, both headed in the same direction most of the way.

The caffeine was setting in and Niall suddenly remembered something he'd been meaning to ask Harry about for awhile. "Louis Tomlinson mentioned you're helping him apply to Boston U? He came to me to talk about it also."

"Yes, it was a bit last minute and I had time for it, so," the man shrugged.

"That's good you were able to get to know him well enough already to write a letter too." Niall continued thoughtfully.

Harry shrugged, a controlled smile on his lips. "He's one of my best students, on top of the other things he's involved in. It didn't take long to realize he'd thrive in a challenging environment."

Niall opened his mouth to speak when Harry asked him his opinion on the outcome of a recent golf game, which the blonde happily dove into wholeheartedly, doing most of the talking until they had to go their separate ways.

L

Louis went through the motions of getting ready that morning, though he'd rather have just slept in, face down and wallowing in his own teen angst and despair. He showered, but skipped all of his usual self care routine of thorough shaving, or even shampooing his hair. He opted instead to let the hot water beat onto his tense neck and shoulders as he breathed in and out slowly, his eyes closed and head dipped slightly down.

I can do this. It'll be fine. He won't hate me. Louis turned to face the spray, the pressure forcing his ribs to release the suffocating ache that was squeezing at his frame.

His mother was also awake and already in the kitchen when he appeared to get something to eat. Neither said anything, the silence settling around them. His mother was outright hostile in response to Louis' quiet 'excuse me' as he made to move past her for a paper towel to wrap his toast in, ignoring him and sipping her coffee as he moved awkwardly around her.

Heat crept up the sides of his face and he hurried to put on his shoes, wanting to just go and get away from this weird vibe. Because fuck that. She owed him a thousand sorry's for trying to make him doubt his sexual identity, a part of himself he was proud and sure of. For trying to make him be ashamed of stupid things that shouldn't matter to anyone like pastel nail polish. He felt foolish for having opened up and left himself vulnerable, only for it to be thrown back in his face. He didn't have to leave for school for several more minutes but he was over the current mood of the house.

"I'm going now," Louis announced stiffly. "I need my keys and phone." As she handed him the items, she informed him that she would be spending more time at home while he was grounded since he "obviously needed more supervision and guidance." Louis said nothing and walked out the door.

-

"What's wrong?" Lexie asked in lieu of a greeting as Louis approached.

His response dripped with sarcasm. "Ah yes, thanks for asking and welcome to this week's episode of Who's Fucking with Louis Tomlinson? featuring my mother, the possible homophobe!" He was interrupted by a soft "Oh, Louis," from Lexie as she reached out and rest a comforting hand on his back. He glanced over to Liam, who looked almost comical in his reaction, eyebrows shot up in surprise and mouth slightly agape. Louis took a calming breath before continuing.

"So basically, my mom is onto me sneaking out and not having been home while she was gone. She doesn't know anything though, just accused me and bitched. But then she noticed my nail polish and said 'it's not for boys' and I ended up blurting out that I'm gay and already came out. And she questioned it, then I said some shit about my dad because I don't know? I was just so angry. She took my phone and car away, and now I'm grounded for two fucking weeks."

"Wait," Liam interrupted. "What about, you know. Mr. Styles? Does he know?"

Louis sighed dramatically. "Yes. I managed to email him and warn about no phones but I have yet to explain what happened or even know what he thinks of it. I don't know when I'll get the chance... what if he ignores the whole thing and wilds out fucking like five other men while I'm MIA?" he finished with a whine.

Lexie spoke up, quiet and reassuring. "Louis, anyone that wouldn't wait two weeks for you, isn't worth your time. If he cares about you at all, he'll hear you out on this and not be an ass about it." Liam was nodding along and Louis was outnumbered.

"Well, yeah. We'll see. It's fine," Louis shrugged like it didn't bother him.

Liam leaned against a locker and looked into the distance wistfully. "I know what it's like. It can be so hard to be apart from your boyfriend-"

"Not my boyfriend, but do go on Liam," Louis cut in sarcastically.

"As I was saying, it's so hard to be away from your 'man companion'," Liam did air quotes that were promptly slapped down by Louis. "The other day, Zayn was in class then went straight to work on some painting and we didn't see each other for like, almost a day."

"There are no words," Louis replied, "for how sickeningly obsessed with each other the two of you are."

"Not sickening, magical." Lexie reminded, the bell for homeroom drowning out their conversation, forcing them to get going.

"Hey, Louis?" Lexie spoke up as the two walked to the gym. The friends made eye contact. "I'm sorry that happened. Your mom will come around."

"She better," Louis grumbled. "Or these next few weeks will feel like descending into the seventh layer of hell."

"I reside in the seventh layer of hell already, I think, with all the other tortured virgins who have gorgeous gym teachers and can't do anything about it." Louis just laughed, not having it in him to rib her back about her hopeless crush.

"Also I like your polish, I bet that goes with everything."

"Thanks, it does and it isn't coming off til it's chipped." Louis smirked slightly, pleased by his own stubbornness.

"I'm here for it."

Mr. Horan

After gym class, Mr. Horan motioned Louis aside. "I've got the letter of recommendation you asked for." He procured a sealed envelope and Louis accepted it with a 'thank you.' The teacher gave him a quick once over before asking, "You seemed yourself today in class, should I expect to see you at practice tomorrow?"

"Oh, yeah, it was nothing," Louis quickly replied, averting his gaze. "Just a twenty four hour thing. Woke up feeling fine. " Niall had that little unsettling jolt one feels when they hear a phrase twice, like deja vu. Oh right, Harry said almost the same thing earlier. What are the odds of that?

"Okay, great." He flashed an encouraging, small grin and sent Louis off to his next class.

-

L

It happened when Louis least expected it. Late morning as he passed by the Chemistry classroom on his way to English, the door quickly opened halfway, an intense looking Mr. Styles calling his name and motioning him over. Louis quickly worked his way through the throng of students, looking behind him as everyone continued hurrying by, paying them no mind. Mr. Styles pulled him into the room and shut the door, locking it and abruptly turning to face him. He thrust an already filled out late slip into Louis' hands, excusing the tardy they both knew he would need for next period even if they rushed the conversation that they both desperately needed to have.

Louis accepted the slip with a quiet 'thank you' and looked away, twisting to unzip his bag and reach around inside. "I, um, have the other letter for my application, from Mr. Horan." He procured the envelope and handed it to his teacher, only daring a fleeting glance to his passive face. Mr. Styles set it on his desk to deal with later, turning again to face the boy and motioning him to close the space between them that felt so unnatural. Mr. Styles took Louis' hand in his own, rubbing a few circles into the side of his thumb.

"I'll get that to Marcel today. So I received your email, what's going on?" Louis let go of the man's hand to readjust his shirt, and the man leaned against his desk, crossing his arms.

Louis' heart beat impossibly fast in his chest, butterflies erupting in his stomach as he fiddled with the end of the strap on his bag. He took a gulp of air and began, his words coming out faster than he wanted. "I'm sorry I messed it all up I came home and my mom was suspicious of me not being home and I didn't tell her about you, us, I mean and she saw my nail polish, she said 'that isn't for boys' and I just got so angry, I told her I've come out already and it got ugly, I don't know I said some mean things about it being her fault my father left and she grounded me for two weeks and I can only have my keys and phone to go to school and practice," Louis paused to breathe and glanced to the man. Mr. Styles' features were hard as he listened, yet still beautiful. But his narrowed eyes were throwing Louis off and he started rambling again. "She doesn't know anything, I refused to give her the passcode so she won't find out, please don't be mad at-"

"Louis," Mr. Styles said firmly. "Please, calm down. I'm not mad at you. If anything, I'm angry that you were told your sexuality wasn't valid, and that there's something wrong with stepping outside gender norms for something as harmless and trivial as nail polish. You deserve better than that and I hope you know it." The butterflies in Louis' stomach calmed and his heart didn't feel like it was on the verge of bursting anymore, more of a dull ache in its place. The man took Louis' hand again. This time he didn't pull away.

"I do know it, that's why I'm angry too. And I don't know what it means for..." Louis stopped and just looked into the man's eyes as if he could avoid the elephant in the room.

"-for us." Mr. Styles finished for him. Louis nodded. "The rules won't change. You're mine and no one else gets to touch you, even you. And since seeing you outside of the school day is no longer an option... we'll most likely have to take a break."

A lump suddenly rose in Louis' throat. A break? What kind of break? "I, okay, yeah. That makes sense," he replied.

"Good," Mr. Styles spoke decisively and they both lapsed into a moment of silence.

Neither knew what to say next, so naturally they ended up kissing and clinging onto one another, as if they were magnets that could never stay physically apart for long, even if they wanted to.

Mr. Styles cradled Louis' face in his hands as he kissed him, long and a little more tender than usual. Louis relaxed into it and shut his eyes tightly, letting the touch calm his nerves and warm how cold he'd felt inside. God, he'd needed this. He never wanted to stop doing this now that he'd started, pressing himself closer to the man and aligning their bodies in the familiar fit with his head tilted up to reach his mouth.

There was an urgent intensity to it at first, lip bites a little more lingering, their bodies melding together without any space between yet still pressing and pushing as if there was still some teasing distance. Then it slowed down into something very careful, almost reverent in the way the man's hands slowly slid down Louis' face, cupping around his neck with his thumbs pressed firmly into his cheeks. The man broke away for a moment, eyes clenched tightly shut as he breathed deeply and harshly for a moment before surging down, Louis grabbing his shirt collar to keep him close in response and releasing a muted whine lost between their sealed lips.

Mr. Styles swallowed the tiny hums of pleasure the boy was making as the heat between them intensified, his large hands inevitably sliding lower, along every plane and curve of the beautiful boy he was saying goodbye to. They kissed like it was their last and it almost knocked the air from Louis' lungs at how bittersweet it felt when the man rubbed his palms across the bare skin by his back dimples before gripping him tightly. Louis reached higher to tug on the man's hair needily.

"I want you to remember how it feels, for me to touch you," Mr. Styles whispered to his boy, brushing the hair away from behind Louis' ear and kissing down the side of his neck, firm presses of his lips causing a shudder where Louis' skin was softest and most sensitive, right below his shirt collar.

"Daddy," Louis breathed out quietly, not knowing the next time he would get to utter those words to the man. "Daddy, my daddy," he sighed before lips were pressed against his again, silencing him.

The kiss was slow and thorough, the man making sure every curve of Louis' lips was touched and appreciated. They stood impossibly close to one another, holding on tightly as one of them would randomly grind into the other, but without orgasm being chased, just reveling in the satisfying tingle and bursts of heat the friction caused. The dips and valleys and swells of their fronts matched up like they were designed for this.

Their feelings in this moment were simple, primal. Each little happy, muffled sound traded between them was sending their problems further away like a runaway balloon, filling their minds with nothing but feeling good and safe. Their intimacy wasn't this frantic, unlimited thing that they could binge on at least once a day, anymore. There was an almost tangible obstacle ahead of them, an intimidating wall threatening everything good and easy about this. A reminder that, the seven year age gap came with its difficulties and risks, to say the least. It just wasn't fair but most things aren't.

So they made the best of their brief kiss before they couldn't leave the day on pause any longer, ending up just holding one another for a moment and breathing into it. Mr. Styles kissed the top of Louis' head and pushed the boy at arm's length to look him directly in the eyes.

"I can't risk everything, you know that right? Hopefully all the suspicion will die down and we can reassess how to proceed then but..." he chewed on his bottom lip for a moment. "In the meantime, no texting, no calls, no secret visits or sneaking out. Okay?" Louis swallowed around the uncomfortable feeling in his throat and nodded, leaning into one last kiss and a squeeze of his waist. He smiled weakly up at the man, backing away as their joined hands slid apart with a tiny swish of skin sliding across skin, until they were no longer touching. Louis quickly left the room, disappearing around the thick wood and into the mass of people hurrying down the halls.

He didn't cry. He didn't. He could handle fourteen days apart. He just hoped that he would be worth the wait for Mr. Styles, and not slip far enough away that they wouldn't find each other again when Louis had more freedom.