Fading

Chapter Fifteen

Louis thinks kissing Harry was the stupidest thing he's ever done. It was easy to ignore the voice screaming in his head about what a fucking idiot he is when Harry had a gentle grip on his hand as they made their way up from the pond to see the other rink. It was easy to ignore the voice when he was snuggled up next to Harry on the bench while they watched the other lads playing hockey. It was easy to ignore the voice when Harry was giving him a tender kiss as they said goodbye after the guys finished their game. It is not easy to ignore the voice now that Louis is laying in his bed the next day, staring up at the ceiling and thinking about all the ways Harry is going to shred him apart. 

Liam came in a few hours ago to say bye to Louis before he left for the library, he's got some ridiculously complicated essay due soon that he's been stressing about. The bass of the music coming from Zayn's room tells Louis Zayn must be painting. Louis hardly slept last night because the second he was in the car with Zayn and Liam and Harry was pulling away in his truck with Niall, his mind would not stop analyzing all the ways he's setting himself up to be destroyed. It's almost one in the afternoon now, but he hasn't left his bed.

All that skating yesterday was not a good idea, every one of his joints hurts and his leg muscles burn with every movement. It had been nice though, after the kiss. They had taken off their skates and sat on the bench and Harry had put his arm around Louis' shoulders and held him close. Louis wasn't sure if it was because he was shivering or because of whatever is going on between them now, but it felt nice. It was also nice when Louis felt Harry's lips press against his beanie, when Harry twined their fingers together, when Harry brushed his lips against Louis' knuckles. All tender things, all sweet things, all nice things. Louis doesn't deserve nice or sweet or tender though, so it was all wrong. 

Louis hears the music shut off in Zayn's room and his feet padding down the hall. He doesn't knock before he comes in and when he crawls under the covers with Louis he has paint dried on his knuckles and a bit smeared across his forehead. Louis rolls over when Zayn's arms snake around his shoulders and he snuggles close. Zayn's fingers trace up and down Louis' back and Louis reaches up to wipe away the drying paint with the sleeve of the ratty old sweatshirt he's wearing.

"How you feeling bebz? You tired today?" Zayn asks gently.

"Yeah a little tired I guess," Louis says, "what are you painting?"

"Inconsistency, fickleness." 

Zayn always paints vague things that Louis never fully understands, but the emotion is clear on every canvas he touches. He isn't in school for his art, he just does it as a way to express himself, but Louis and Liam think everything he paints is gorgeous. 

"Can I see it?" Louis asks.

"Of course, but I ran out of fuchsia paint so I need to get some and finish it first. Caitlyn wanted to meet up for coffee and to study though, do you think you'll be okay home alone for a bit?"

"Caitlyn, she's the one with blonde hair right?" Louis asks and Zayn nods, "she's cute."

"Yeah she's a sweetheart. I'm kind of pretending to be worse at Economics so she'll help me," Zayn shrugs shyly.

Louis laughs, "as if you need to do that, love. Just ask her out."

He scrunches up his nose, "I don't know if she likes me....you know how I am."

"I know babe, though I'll never get why you're so shy. You're very loveable and gorgeous and sweet," Louis says seriously, because he knows Zayn needs to be reminded sometimes.

Zayn chuckles but his tan cheeks colour a bit, "you have to say that."

"No I don't. If studying goes well I want you to ask her out. Like for dinner or something. Okay?"