next to you ❀ l.s.

twenty one - parting gifts

Louis started to feel like every time he took a step forward, he took three steps back.

The knock on the door came around eleven that night, when Louis was just finishing up studying for his very last exam before Thanksgiving break. He knew who it was before he even answered -- there was only one person who rapped so gently against the cheap wood that the knock echoed softly through the apartment, sending the sound fluttering gracefully through the air to mimic the butterflies in his stomach.

"Hold on!" he called out, wondering if Harry could hear the stupid smile in his voice. He dog-eared a page in his textbook before slamming it shut, then he gathered his messy pile of papers into a slightly-less messy pile. Then he hurried for the door.

Harry's body was wrapped around his own before he could even open his mouth to say hello. "Lou," he whined, nuzzling the cold tip of his nose against Louis's warm neck. "Want you."

Louis blinked once, then a few more times. He tried to take a few steps back, but Harry clung to him, his arms linked securely around the older boy's neck.

"Please," he whimpered, rutting shamelessly against Louis's hip. "Need it, Lou. Need you."

"Harry, wait --"

Harry's lips latched onto his neck, trailing wet kisses down his jawline. He mouthed hotly over the slight curve where Louis's neck met his shoulder, happy that the scooped hem of the older boy's t-shirt left the area exposed.

"Wait a minute!"

With a huff, Harry started working his way back up toward Louis's face, undeterred. His warm breath washed over Louis's skin, spreading downward over his back, goosebumps trailing lower and lower with every press of Harry's soft lips against his jaw.

"Harry, seriously! Look at me." With some effort, he managed to untangle Harry's long limbs from his body, holding the younger boy at an arm's length so he could study his face. "What's wrong, angel?"

Harry actually whimpered, biting down hard on his bottom lip. He was pushing against Louis's hold on him, trying to press their bodies together again, and he pouted when he found that Louis was much stronger than him.

"Hazza. Sweetheart," Louis cooed gently. Harry was still rocking restlessly against his locked, outstretched arms, and he gave in, gathering the curly-haired boy back to his chest. He smiled accidentally when Harry gave a satisfied sigh as his body melted into Louis's own, betraying his facade of frustration. "Hazza," he said again. "Talk to me."

With the slightest shake of his head, Harry whimpered again, hiding his face in Louis's neck. Louis waited for the tears; waited for the shudder of Harry's chest against his own, and for the warm wetness to spread across his skin. It never came. Harry was uncharacteristically still and quiet, only slight sniffles of breath leaving his mouth, muffled against Louis's skin.

He prodded again, "I'm right here. Talk to me."

"I-I . . . I can't . . ." Harry's voice faltered, and he pulled back from their tight embrace, staring at Louis with wide doe eyes. He looked genuinely distressed, earnest and sincere as ever. "Later, I promise. Please, Lou, I --" he rolled his hips against Louis's thigh, letting the older boy feel his hard bulge through his pants "-- I need this. Please?"

A better man would have more resolve. Louis wasn't that man.

He took hold of Harry's chin, tilting the younger boy's head to connect their lips in a heated kiss. Their bodies slotted together like puzzle pieces, breathing in sync, their hands exploring each other's dips and curves for only the second time. Louis bit down gently on Harry's bottom lip, making the younger boy gasp and allowing Louis to slip his tongue into Harry's mouth.