Where Louis gets caught writing gay fanfiction and Harry sticks up for him.

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School was never something I was bad at. I actually quite enjoyed school if I was being honest. Besides sitting alone at lunch and stuff, that literally sucked ass. But, other than that it was a ton better than being home all day doing nothing. I never understood how kids could just...sit there. Doing nothing, but being content. It still confuses me.

"Hey Faglinson, what are you up to tonight? Writing about your invisible boyfriend?" Someone, probably some stupid senior, teases. Let's just say someone let it slip that I ran a writing account and wrote about Phan (you know Dan and Phil?). Well, after that everyone thought it was just plain hilarious that I wrote that kinda stuff. So, Faglinson, was their newest nickname for me. I wasn't bothered by it, considering every time I post an update I reach a larger audience than my principal does on the intercom.

"Leave 'em alone? Jesus, you act like you've never seen a gay guy before." I turn, who the hell was standing up for me? That was new. I cringe as I see Harry Styles, one of the more well known guys in the senior class. I wouldn't use the word popular, because no one really liked him. He knew a dirty secret about nearly everyone in the school and wasn't afraid to test his knowledge.

"Stupid fags. Why they gotta go around sucking each other's faces off, Jesus. Don't gotta shove that gay shit down my fucking throat." The guy snarled, Harry only rolled his eyes, taking a moment to think before deciding on his come back.

"Didn't think you would mind, considering you suck Kyle Adam's dick after football practice every day. Oh, you didn't want anyone to know? Whoops, guess I couldn't keep my gay mouth shut." Styles replies. The guy stares in shock before blushing. His friends look at him like he lost his head. He tries to blabber out an explanation, but what was said was said there was no taking it back now.

I wasn't sure if I should thank the boy for sticking up for me or awkwardly nod and walk away. He didn't exactly look like he was waiting for a thank you or anything of the sort. I was about to walk off when he starts walking in step with me.

"A thank you would be appreciated." He says cockily. I pull my backpack tighter on my shoulders.

"I didn't need your help. They were just being stupid jackasses." I reply. I didn't really want the kid to think I owed him now (you would be surprised how many people think I owe them something) or anything.

"Well, maybe I just wanted to out the shit. I was dying to tell that secret, and you gave me an excuse so I guess I should be thanking you." He hums. The whole thing was getting a little awkward for my taste, so I start to walk a little faster, hoping he would get the message and head to class, but he just speeds up.

"Hey wait up, I was joking, alright?" He calls. I turn around to look at him, he was standing in the middle of the hall, his backpack dangling off one of his shoulders.

"Leave me alone, alright? Thanks for helping and everything, but I really need to get to class." I remind him, pointing to the clock. I had 2 minutes to get to class and it was all the way across the building.

I start walking again when I feel the back of my shirt being pulled and before I know it I'm pushed up against the wall. I suck in a breath before looking up and seeing Harry.

He stepped towards me, his nose almost touching mine. His eyes drifted lazily over mine, holding them in place. I wanted to run, but with him standing in front of me, this close, there was no chance.

"What are ya doing?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. He takes a moment to answer.

"Looking at your eyes." He says as his eyes drift down to my lips. I keep my eyes glued on his eyebrows, too nervous to trust myself to actually look at him. We stood like that for a while, neither of us moving. I was about to say something when he brought his fingers up to my cheek, ghosting his fingers over them.

"What are ya doing now?" I ask, my voice still soft, but now shaky. His eyes drifted up to my eyes and he gave me a sly grin.

"Looking at your cheek," he answers as the pads of his fingers make contact with my cheek. I feel heat rise to where his fingers set. I curse myself for letting him have this control over me. I just wanted to get to class.

"You must be really talented to see with your hands." I tell him, sounding cheekier than I meant to. He lets out a light laugh, his breath hitting my face.

"I guess I am, huh?" He whispers. He starts to lean in, stopping just before touching our lips together. I didn't know what to do, he was a handsome guy and he did stand up for me. Did he say he was gay? I thought he did, but I guess it doesn't really matter now.

"What are ya doing now?" I ask again, almost feeling the tips of my lips touch his as I talked.

"Looking at your lips." He admits as he closes the space between us. His hands, which were on my cheeks, moved to my jaw and captured it there. I felt warm and safe in his grasp as his lips touched mine. The kiss wasn't long and we didn't kiss long enough for it to actually mean anything, but when he pulled back he looked into my eyes and let out a smile. This was the feeling I was always writing about.

"Very pretty lips." He mutters, his lips still close enough to touch mine as he talked.

"Must be talented to see with your lips." I reply, teasingly.

"Thank you, I know I'm talented, no need to remind me." He answers, before leaning in again and capturing our lips together. This kiss was longer, and more thought out. Harry's hands moved from my jaw to my neck and he held me there. I was no longer Louis Tomlinson who wrote fanfiction about two gay guys or the Louis Tomlinson who did good in school. I was no longer me, I was nobody and everybody at the same time.

I lost track of time as Harry's lips moved against mine. We were both unskilled, but I didn't care. Our lips could have been just touching and I would be completely okay with that. I still couldn't process that this was actually happening. It all seemed like some strange fantasy, but I knew that it couldn't be. I may have been a writer and I knew I could make up from pretty realistic shit, but this, this couldn't be made up.

Harry pulled back first, resting his forehead against mine. Our breathing was shallow as he stared at me and smiled.

"You're beautiful." He whispers, his shallow breaths hitting my face.

"Thank you." I reply, so soft only I could hear what I had said.

"Get to class, and no PDA in the hallway, kids these days." A teacher, I bet, huffs. I let out a laugh just as the bell rings, signaling I was officially late for the first time in my life.