next to you ❀ l.s.

fifty seven - pretty boy, party boy

Harry had been strung tight all week, like every day that passed just twisted him up tighter and tighter and tighter. When he started getting stressed, he wasn't rude and short and irritable like Louis. He retreated into himself, keeping everyone at an arm's length. Even Louis.

Between packing their lives into boxes and taking over ownership of the bookstore and worrying about the nonexistent traces of Louis's mild cold, Harry was completely and entirely spread too thin. He had decided to close the bookstore for three days leading up to the opening day on the first of March, and he was going to spend those three days obsessing over the minor renovations and redecorations that he wanted to finish before reopening.

So, naturally, Niall suggested a night out to soothe some of his frazzled nerves. It took hours and hours of needling for Louis to get Harry to agree, but finally, he did ("As long as we keep it short and sweet, and as long as you don't let me drink too much!" he had instructed Louis solemnly, a pointer finger raised in the air like a strict parent).

Louis never made promises he couldn't keep -- he understood there were limits on time spent at the bar and alcohol consumption, but he didn't hear anything about a sex ban.

Technicalities.

Harry was still swirling around his apartment like a tornado half an hour before they had to leave to meet their friends. The only thing that had remotely calmed him down over the past few days was watching Louis sleep.

When he was sick, Louis slept a lot. In between frantic planning and shelf reorganization, Harry had curled up in bed beside his sick boyfriend, studying the older boy's face with an intensity that probably bordered on obsession. Something about his pursed lips and delicate cheekbones finally let Harry relax, the warmth of his body washing over Harry like the sun. Louis's cold was long gone now, though, and Harry's brain was electrified with everything that could go wrong.

Two arms wrapped around him from behind, a warm chest pressed against his back. "Meet me in the bedroom, okay?" Louis requested gently, kissing the back of his neck.

"Yeah, yeah. I'll be there in a minute," Harry promised, glancing over his shoulder to solidify the vow with a reassuring smile. He had a spacey look in his eyes already, a constant switch between frantic worry and crushing retreat.

"Okay," the older boy agreed easily. "No rush."

"Just a minute," Harry promised again.

Louis waited in the bedroom for almost ten minutes, perched on the edge of the bed. He ran his hands up and down his thighs, smoothing out his wrinkled jeans. When Harry finally came into the room, his chest was heaving, his lips slightly parted as he sucked in a deep breath. His lungs never seemed to cooperate when he was overwhelmed.

And Louis knew just the way to force him to take a much-needed breath.

"Harry."

"Hold on, I just need to . . ." Harry stormed into the room without as much as a glance at Louis, who sat on the edge of the bed. "I just need to find the old sheets that I'm going to use to make . . . what was I going to use them for . . ?"

"Harry. Come here," Louis cut him off, a slight edge to his tone.

Harry froze. He didn't say a word, but he padded across the room to stand in front of Louis. The older boy took his hand and helped him straddle his lap, his hands moving down to grip the soft flesh of Harry's hips.

Louis's watchful blue eyes heated Harry's face. "You feeling okay?"

Harry bit his lip, glancing sideways, refusing to meet Louis's gaze. His fingers absentmindedly picked at the old, frayed quilt on his bed, his free hand clutching the hem of Louis's sweater. He felt guilty. "I suppose I'm a bit stressed."