The Degradation (translation)

Or not

Louis' pov

Lying on the not-too-tidy floor of my room, we look at each other, and neither of us thinks to get up. I'm lost in his gaze again, and nothing else matters. And I realize how much I don't want it to ever stop. It feels like if I don't forget my own name when I look into his eyes, then life will lose its meaning. His hands are still on me, his fingers stroking my skin, and the atmosphere changes again.

"Harry, you..."

"Yes?"

"You, uh, well...Was there a lot of...?"

And I stop, blushing. I hate to ask him this, but damn I need to know how many people he's slept with. Does he have more experience than I do?

"No" he seems to understand what I mean, and shakes his head.    He looks down at his fingers, running them down my arm. "You'll be the second. I only had Samantha."

He bites his lip and looks me in the eye again before repeating, "You'll be the second." My breath catches in my throat, and I open my mouth involuntarily. That is... have you seen him at all? I've seen a waitress almost dump her breasts on him just because he smiled at her. He couldn't sleep with just one person. It's too posh.  But it's true. If there's one person in the world who won't lie about his adventures, it's Harry Styles. And the worst part is that I always knew it. I just hoped to the last that I was wrong. But no, he's too self-respecting to fuck anything that moves. Unlike me.  Okay, I shouldn't have asked that question, because I've never felt so pathetic before. He's going to ask me the same thing. And I'd rather die than answer.

"No, shut up. Don't even ask."

And I try to get up. But since our legs are entwined and I'm an idiot, he only pulls me closer, smiling at the corners of his mouth.

"Why not?"

"Because."

I'm finally getting up.

"Were there so many of them?"

I'm going to kill him. No, really, what the hell kind of mockery do I hear in his tone? I fall down on the bed, burying my face in the pillow. Only now he's following me.

"Shut up."

He lies down next to me, but I refuse to look at him. He laughs. So, let's put tact on the list of his enemies.

"Come on, tell me."

"Fuck off."

He laughs again, and I throw a pillow at him.

"I can guess if you want."

"No."

"A hundred?"

What?! I raise my head sharply and open my eyes wide.

"A hundred? Are you crazy? I'm not a robot."

"So how much?"

"I don't know, I never counted."

"Liar."

I tried to mumble something unintelligible into my pillow, hoping to put it down to his poor hearing. It didn't work. I close my eyes as tightly as I can and cover my head with another pillow.

"Eighty."

Why the hell was he laughing again? It's not funny. I feel very, very pathetic. So when he tries to hug me, I just stiffen and grumble. Yes, it's legendary. Books will soon be written about the adventures of Louis the cretin.

"Look at me."

His hand moves up my thigh, tickling me. Why the fuck is he laughing again?

"No."

"Why?

"Shame on me."

But he leaves me no choice. He puts his hands on my waist and turns me onto my side before leaning against me and twining our legs together. I look at his pendant. Why not? I start playing with the star of David hanging on a chain.

"I didn't know you were Jewish."

"Changing the subject?"

"Yes."

"My father is Jewish. Why are you ashamed?"

I still don't want to look at him.

"Because compared to you, I'm a total whore."

"Don't say that."

I finally look up at him.

"But after all..."

"No,"

"Yes, I..."

"No..."

"Oh, be quiet."

He did it on purpose. Interrupts every time I open my mouth. I have the most insufferable boyfriend in the world.

"Will you let me speak?"

"If you say that nonsense again, then no."

"So you don't care that I slept with half the planet?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Of course. Why should I care?" and I don't know what to say to him. I don't know why I'm so hung up on it. "You're with me now. Nothing else matters."

His words echo in my head. "You're with me now."