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Summary
"That's really sweet of you, Louis," Harry started, and Louis was sure he picked up on some condescension in Harry's tone– purposeful or not. "But I don't do bands."
And there it was, again. The way Harry said 'bands' as if he was above the concept. A strange tightness began to twist in Louis' chest, which wasn't so much caused by the rejection as it was the grain of judgment he was perceiving. "You don't do bands, huh?" Louis retorted, mimicking Harry's emphasis. A new sharpness was evident in his attitude. "What is it that you do, then?"
Harry met Louis' eyes again, unfazed by his sudden challenge. A mischievous grin tugged at the corners of his lips. "You, maybe."
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One Direction is down a vocalist. Louis knows Harry would be a good match. The band is Louis' life. But, Harry - he just wants Louis.