Larry Stylinson One Shots

I Guess

Summary: not really sure, yoga and Louis not being able to take a compliment?

all poses mentioned are in the picture

~~

Louis thinks Harry hates him. Like truly, deeply despises him. There's a deep crevasse running through the six-foot tall body that's filled with hate Louis juices. There's no other explanation.

It was early, much earlier than Louis usually gets up, but he couldn't sleep. His thoughts had decided to bounce around his skull like a pinball machine, and he couldn't get the glorious image of Harry laughing at one of his jokes from the previous day out of his head.

Grumbling, Louis had rubbed his eyes and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. A cup of tea might lull him to sleep. No classes on Thursdays meant he could sleep in, that is, if he can manage to fall asleep at all.

His long pajama bottoms caught under his feet as he crossed his small room and eased his bedroom door open.

A gentle light shone in a stripe from below the door across the hall; Harry's room.

Often enough, Harry falls asleep before Louis, and the older of the two cracks his door open to turn his light off for him, occasionally wrapping him in a blanket if he looks cold, or turning on the fan.

It was when Louis poked his head into Harry's room, expecting to see Harry curled up on his bed or asleep at his desk, that he decides Harry has a hidden disliking for his roommate. Because why would you ever let your roommate see such a sight.

And now Louis' here. Jaw slack, eyes widening and glued to the spot as he watches Harry walk his hands along the yoga mat he's on, moving from the downward dog position to the half fold, his ass right. there.

He has a set of headphones on, his hair pooling on the floor by his feet, his eyes closed in relaxation. The loose tee shirt covering his toned torso slips down to his chest, his sweatpants pulled tight.

A long, controlled breath leaves Harry's lips as he goes up on his toes, his hands walking back down the mat and into the downward dog once again, before sinking to his knees and leaning back on his haunches, his hair flying through the air as he straightens up, reaching for his phone.

Clearly, Harry's finished his yoga session, or is at least taking a break, and Louis suddenly realizes that if he can see Harry's side profile, there's a very good chance that Harry can see him as well.

Pulling back out of the room, Louis tries to shut the door quietly and scurries off to the kitchen, suddenly not wanting to sleep anymore.

The kettle just begins to boil when Louis hears light footsteps padding down the hall. And then he's not alone in the room, Harry's figure lingering in the doorway. He's still in the tee and sweatpants, apparently not finished yet.

Louis hums in acknowledgement of Harry's presence, eyes not leaving the very interesting black plastic of the old, worn kettle.

"Why're you still awake?" Harry asks softly, and Louis works hard to convince himself that there isn't any concern in his tone. "It's almost one in the morning."

"Couldn't sleep." Louis shrugs, taking a long sip of his tea, his back still to Harry.

Sidling closer, Harry perches himself atop the counter next to Louis, watching the poorly masked panic in amusement.

"Louis?"

"Hm?"

"I know you were watching me."

Well crap. Crappity crap crap crap.