Louis didn't believe in true love, not one bit.

The marriage between his mother and father failed miserably, leaving his mum in despair for years end on while his dad continued through life, as if him and Jay never were.

Louis wouldn't let someone hurt him like his dad hurt his mum, but that didn't stop the dreams.

Some nights were black and empty, others were filled with the vision of a pretty boy with pretty brown curls and a stupid pretty smile. Louis went to sleep some nights anticipating the dreams of the unnamed man that flooded his mind. Those were the nights that he slept best.

As much as he looked forward to these dreams, Louis knew that such a perfect human couldn't exist, and that this boy was just a figment of his imagination.

It was simply just a fantasy, something to entertain Louis while he continued his day to day life working at a grocery store in downtown London and attending university where he was majoring in photography.

And as Louis would be standing in an aisle, stocking the shelves in the produce section, a couple would be audibly fighting in the next aisle over. Louis would shake his head, sighing as he emptied the basket filled with apples and pears.

Love really didn't exist.

☻

"Harry, get up before you're late to your first lecture!" Harry heard the shout of his sister from downstairs, turning his face and covering his ears with the pillow in attempts to shut out the sound of his sibling.

"Don't make me come up there,"

The warning was enough to drag Harry out of bed, groaning. "Yes, mum!"

Harry and his sister, Gemma, bickered to the point where you would think they absolutely loathe each other, but it was quite the opposite. The two siblings moved into their own apartment when they each started college, figuring it would be easiest to split the flat's rent since they're definitely gonna be broke after all the uni loans kick in.

Harry got ready for his first class in the morning; anthropology. He was majoring in psychology, wanting to someday become a psychiatrist, more specifically, studying different mental disorders and hopefully helping people overcome them.

He heard in a dream once, "Let's make someone happy today." And ever since, he's lived by that motto and it's inspired his passion of psychology.

With a playful glare and a kiss to the cheek, Harry was on his way out of the shared flat to his first morning class.

The campus wasn't a far walk from the flat, and since Gemma's college was on the outskirts of Cheshire, Harry would let her use the car.

Harry walked down the sidewalk, taking notice of how the once green trees were turning orange and reddish colors, some leaves beginning to fall. It was his favorite time of year. Not cold enough to wear a jacket, but warm enough to wear a short sleeve shirt without getting weird stares.

Anthropology wasn't in the top favorites amongst all of his classes, though it definitely ranked in the top three. But as his professor rambled on about gender roles and social systems, he couldn't help but let his mind wonder to the most recent dream that featured a certain blue eyed boy whom he had no idea what his name was.

"I think this could be the one, Haz," The brunette said, his eyes scanning the house as the realtor showed them around. It was the perfect two bedroom, two bathroom home for the pair. There would obviously be no use for a second bedroom, but the two kept it in the back of their minds that they would eventually want to start a family of their own.

Harry gazed around the living room, a small fireplace in the far side of the room complimenting the faded blue colored walls. The color almost matched the boy's eyes, but wasn't nearly as beautiful and breathtaking.

"I think you may be right,...?" Harry replied, the sentence ending almost as a question as he looked at the other, hoping he would finally learn his name. But the mystery boy simply shook his head with a smile. "Someday, love."

So Harry nodded. "Someday."

"Harry, care to tell inform us on the relationship between gender roles and the social systems of today's society?" Ms. Laura's voice snapped Harry out of his daydreaming, whose attention was immediately on his professor, while the rest of the class' attention was on him.

Harry's mind drew a blank, and all that came out of his mouth was, well, nothing.

So Ms. Laura stood in the front of the classroom, her assumptions correct that Harry wasn't paying attention to the last twenty minutes of class. "That's what I thought, Mr. Styles. Stay after class so I can speak to you."

A small nod was all Harry gave, his cheeks reddening as his face turned down to look at his notebook and a blank page. He began scribbling down enough notes to help him understand the project that was assigned at the end of the class period.

Harry didn't move from his seat as his classmates filed out of the room, signaling the free period before the second lecture of the day. He slowly packed up his belongings in his bag, Ms. Laura walking towards him.

"What's been going on, Harry? You're usually very attentive in class, but this past week you've been a little... off."

He sighed because his professor was right, and he was pretending that the eraser shavings on the desk in front of him were suddenly interesting.

"Harry," Ms. Laura tried again. "Is it a girl you met?"

More like the opposite, Harry thought, and he shook his head. "Not exactly."

"I'm not a guidance counselor, but I can try to help you through whatever you're going through. You've been an excellent student in all of the classes you've taken with me between this year so far and last year. I would hate to see you fall down a landslide," Ms. Laura took a seat on the stool that was in front of Harry.

He's never told anybody about the dreams he's had the last year and a half. The dreams about the boy with feathered brown hair and eyes that could just pierce right through you. He was afraid that if he did open up about them, he would officially be declared as insane.

"I won't judge," Ms. Laura tried one last time. "I am an anthropology teacher after all. Psychology is kinda my thing." This brought a small chuckle out of Harry.

"I've been having these... dreams," Harry began to explain, finally looking at his professor. "It's about this boy, but I have no idea what his name is or where he's from. I only know a face and personality."

Ms. Laura nodded, eyebrows furrowing as she took in the information. "Is this boy one that you may potentially be in love with?"

Harry thought about it. He's never been in love, and quite frankly, he was scared to be. He didn't know this figure personally, and for all Harry knew, the dream boy may not even exist. "I think.." Harry paused. "I think I may be infatuated with him, not in love, because I've never been in love. I've never even met him, either." It frustrated Harry.

"At first I kind of just let the dreams happen, getting to know this figure that I dream about almost every night. But as time went on I started to love the idea of him, started sleeping better because I knew that chances were I was going to dream of him again. Nights where it would just be a blank page would frighten me, because I would feel like he was gone completely. But then the next night, he would come back. So I don't necessarily think that I'm in love, under the circumstances, but I do think that I can be infatuated with someone without being in love with them."

His professor had a small smile tugging at her lips, nodding to indicate that she was listening to Harry's words. "He may exist, you know," Ms. Laura said, and Harry couldn't help but hope that he did. "And you never know, with the way this universe works, he might be having the same dreams of you, wondering every morning what your name is."

"It's why I've been so loose minded lately and drifting off during class, and I'm sorry for that," Harry smiled apologetically. "It's just starting to drive me crazy that I don't know him, and that I can't put a name to the face. I feel like I'll never be able to."

Ms. Laura stood from her stool, glancing at the clock to see that free period was almost over. "Jot down the dreams that you have of him," She suggested, walking over to her supply closet. She opened the metal doors, pulling out a plain composition notebook. "Write them in this notebook and keep it as a journal. That way you'll never be able to forget memories you have of him."

Harry took the journal he was handed, thanking the professor that he always favored most. "Thank you, Ms. Laura."

"Anytime, Harry. You know I'm always here to talk. This isn't secondary school anymore, professors are more like friends than they are teachers, to an extent of course."

Harry nodded, standing up from his seat and slinging his bag over his shoulder. He walked to the door. "I'll see you tomorrow, Ms. Laura. Attentive and ready to go."

"Good, Harry. Don't forget, your project is due Friday!"

Harry spent his free periods throughout the rest of the day writing down dreams that he's had of the dream boy, at least the ones he could remember in full detail. The recall of them put a smile on his face, and he dared to not show anyone the journal that he would hold close to him from this point on.