Louis is sitting with Harry at lunch. All is well, except for the fact that Harry has been quiet and frowning all day long. Louis doesn't like it.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice thick with his French accent.

Harry looks up from his food, "What? No, not really," he sighs, "my boyfriend broke up with me," he tells the boy.

Louis seems confused by the sentence. His mouth keeps opening and closing, trying to find the words to say. "Oh, sorry, 'arry," he murmurs, his shoulders sagging.

Harry shakes his head, "He was a dick. The more that I think about it. I know he's a dick. I absolutely know it but it still makes me wanna watch sad movies and lay in bed and cry and then get back together," he admits, "and punch him. God, I wanna punch him so bad. I should," he spits out.

Louis raises his eyebrows, "Sad movies?" he asks, because honestly that's the most he gets. It's hard to understand when Harry is mumbling quickly.

"Right," Harry sighs, more to himself, "you can't speak English," he rolls his eyes.

Louis gets offended. He does know a bit of English, and can understand a lot too. Even though it seems like a little it's actually a lot considering all of the rules of English. The billion grammars and slangs and everything else. "I speak peu- eh, little Anglais!" he purses his lips, "Ne sois pas pénible! Ton petit-ami à rompu avec toi mais t'as pas le droit d'être désagréable avec moi," (Don't be rude. Your boyfriend broke up with you, but you have no right to be unpleasant with me) he stands from the lunch table, and throws his trash out before leaving he cafeteria.

Harry drops his sandwich into his paper bag and gets up to follow Louis. Though he finds him talking about God knows what with some girl in the hall. In French. So obviously she must be taking French and be good at it. She isn't as good as Louis, and looks confused sometimes, but good enough.

Harry pulls Louis aside away from the girl, "I'm sorry. I'm just sad and angry," he says.

Louis watches as Harry's hand falls from his elbow, "It's okay. Boyfriend, uh, mauvais," he scowls, "ne pas, no like boyfriend," Louis' accent is so so thick, Harry almost has trouble understanding him.

"Me neither," he responds, "though French boys are cool," he smiles.

Louis purses his lips, and then spots Cara lingering in the hall as well. She had been there the whole time against the wall playing on her phone. She makes eye contact with him though, and walks past the two. "Je te l'ai dit qu'il allait adorer les garçons français," (I told you he'll love French boys) she mutters loud enough for him to hear. Harry hears as well, and gets jealous when Louis' cheeks go red

"What'd she say?" he asks.

Louis shrugs, "Nothing," he smiles. Harry sighs, "Nothing! Said no bad!" he defends, "serious!"

Harry can't help but smile. He drops the subject. "Louis do you want to hang out today?" he asks.

Louis has a blank face for a few moments, but then grins and nods, "Oui! Yes!"

Harry beams at him, and nods, "Okay. Good. We'll go out right after school," he tells him.

Louis nods again, "Okay!" he smiles. Harry sighs in relief, and gestures for Louis to follow him, leading him to his next class.

After school ends, Harry drives Louis over to the pizza place. Louis is excited, as he didn't eat much pizza back in France. That and he's hanging out with Harry, who he can't deny he's had eyes on.

Once they get to the place, Louis jumps out of the car and quickly over to Harry's side. "Good, oui?" Louis asks him, "la pizza?"

Harry nods, "Very good. You'll like it," he opens the door for him, and followed him inside. There are a few girls in at one of the booths, and three boys together at a table. Harry goes to ask the French boy what he'd like when his phone goes off.

Louis grabs it from his pocket, blushing and excusing himself. He doesn't notice the girls' stares towards him as he goes off to the side of the restaurant to answer the call.

"Mia? I uh, eating," he sighs. He's lucky to know verbs, at least, "Je sors avec Harry. Nous sommes dans un restaurant de pizza," (I'm hanging out with Harry. We are in a pizza restaurant.) he tells her.

He can hear her groan from the other end, "Maman veut que tu rentres à la maison. Tu n'as pas fini de déballer," (Mother wants you to go home. You have not finished unpacking.)

Louis rolls his eyes, "Oui, qu'eh bien je suis avec Harry. Il est maintenant célibataire donc je veux faire un geste," (Yes, well I am with Harry. Now he is single so I want to make a gesture) he shrugs, glancing back at Harry, who thankfully is busy ordering food for them.

Mia groans from the other line, "Louis! If he just got out of a relationship you can't- ugh! Rentre juste à la maison, maman est colère car t'as pas encore tout déballé." (Just get home. Mom is upset that you are not all unpacked.)

Louis rolls his eyes, and hangs up on his sister. He meets eyes with Harry, who jerks his head towards a booth. Louis follows him, but gets his foot caught on the edge of the booth that the group of girls occupy. Little does he know that one of them actually stuck their foot out, hoping to get to talk to the cute boy.

"Oh, sorry, girls," he smiles sheepishly. He picks up the coat that he almost pulled down with him, sitting it on the extra room on the end of the booth.

"You're new to town, aren't you?" one asks.

Louis raises his eyebrows, "Oui, uh, yes. I am new to America," he tells them, glancing at Harry, who is on his way over.

"Oh," another one nods, "well, if you need anyone to show you around any of us will," she cocks her head.

Louis smiles, "Okay," he watches as she writes something on a napkin.

"Here's my number. Call me if you need anything," she smiles.

Louis takes the napkin, "Thank you! Very nice," his smile fades when he see's her wink, "oh! Uh, no thank you please. I not-"

"Shit. Do you have a girlfriend or something? In France? That's where you're from, right?"

Louis shakes his head, pinching his eyes shut, "Uhm. Uh. France, yes. No, no girlfriend. Je suis- uhm, I am gay, so no girlfriend," he winces at his words, "sorry," he scurries away, pulling Harry back to their own booth with him. He lets his head fall onto the table. "That is embarrassing!" he groans.

Harry chuckles, deciding not to correct his misuse of past and present tense. Instead he just picks up his pizza, taking a bite out of it and feeling a warm sensation in his chest when seeing Louis laughing loudly at him as the pizza grease dropped off his chin.