Bloodsport

chapter 32

He had never seen Louis Tomlinson do such a thing. He had never seen this side of Louis. He knew the callous and aggressive side of Louis all too well, but Louis had never tried to make him laugh. He had never so ardently and deliberately tried to lighten his mood, and especially not in such a manner.

Louis crawled off the bed and danced forward until he was standing in front of Harry. His eyes were blue and sparkling again, the coldness from that morning long gone. The memory of it still lingered, however, and Harry’s insides hadn’t healed.

Louis mimed the song, not singing, but definitely keeping up with the bass and lyrics. His hand grabbed Harry’s t-shirt, turned, and pushed him towards the bed. He moved him until he was sitting, and Louis turned around, pushing his arse against Harry’s crotch.

It was a lot. His mind was off doing gymnastics in thinking, but his body was interested. He was plenty confused. Louis winked over his shoulder, and Harry couldn’t help but laugh again. No matter what, the situation was bizarre. He hadn’t experienced such an awkwardly stupid thing, and if it hadn’t been for that morning he’d probably been over the moon, or down on his knees, moaning into Louis’ shorts.

It was still kind of funny, somehow. Louis looked freaking stupid, but also unbelievably, preposterously hot.

When the song ended, Louis was on top of him still, and they both fell back onto the bed. Louis was laughing slightly, and Harry wasn’t sure if he was breathing or not.

“Oh, my God. What the hell was that?” he laughed. He had no idea what the fuck just occurred. He began to sit up, on the edge of the bed, and Louis followed with Harry’s arm still slightly behind him. There was some glitter on Harry’s t-shirt.

Louis shrugged, but he looked serious. “Well. It’s your birthday, and I was a fucking arse this morning.” Louis’ eyes were intense and penetrating as he watched Harry, who swallowed tightly. “I thought I’d make a fool of myself to apologise, and at the same time give you a little gift.”

Harry stared at the room. Louis had decorated, indeed. It was kind of cool, a little hastily done, but Harry couldn’t say he didn’t like it. Pain still ached somewhere deep down.

“Well, you’re a fucking arse for sure,” he mumbled, “but I like the room.”

Louis grinned. “Welcome. And my dance?”

Harry thought of Louis’ dancing, and the way his chest looked, covered in glitter. “That was definitely unexpected. Ridiculous. And the striptease was definitely a hundred per cent on point…” he trailed off, sarcastic, and Louis’ hand slapped lamely against his belly. Harry chuckled quietly despite himself.

Louis’ voice was still serious as he spoke. “I’m sorry, though. Harry, for real.” Louis looked down at him. But Harry was taken aback at the words. Louis… sounded sincere. He had never apologised to Harry for anything before. “It was uncalled for.”

He looked away. He wasn’t so sure it was. It felt like the words were very much called for. If Louis hadn’t said it, maybe someone else would’ve eventually. Maybe Harry had needed to hear them. It felt like the truth, anyway.

Louis’ fingers rose, and gently grasped Harry’s chin, trying to make him meet his eyes. Harry kept his gaze averted, unable to look into Louis’ blue eyes. He never seemed to know what he would find there.

“Harry, I’m sorry,” repeated Louis, voice just a tad louder. “And I did try to make up for it.”

As if that made the aftermath of the words any better?

“Sometimes,” said Harry quietly, teeth gritted. “You’re a fucking dick, Louis. For no reason at all.”

“I know,” he murmured. His fingers let go of Harry, and he began to get up, looking around himself awkwardly. “Maybe I should go.”