Oasis (Larry Stylinson)

Chapter Four

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CHAPTER FOUR

LOUIS’ POV

I get home around 7:00 at night. Harry is sitting on the couch playing with his phone.

“Hey,” I mutter. “Did the lads leave?”

“Yeah,” he replies, not looking at me. I head over to the couch and sit down right next to him. He looks up from his phone and into my eyes.

“Harry,” I begin, but he interrupts.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Boobear,” he says in a rush and then pulls me into a bone-crushing bear hug.

“it’s ok, Haz,” I say while returning the hug.

“I thought I ruined our friendship with that stupid kiss and that you hated me and-“ I pull out of the hug and put my finger over his lips. He looks extremely flustered and upset.

“I really did like it, Harry,” I say. “I wasn’t lying.” He looks at me for a minute with a blank expression before giving me a crooked and unconvinced smile. He still thinks I’m just trying to be nice. Well, I’ll prove him wrong.

“Harry,” I say soothingly. “Can I kiss you?” he looks at me in awe for a minute before slowly nodding his head. I take my time leaning in and running my finger down his jaw before gently placing my lips on his. He presses his lips against mine and gnaws a little on my bottom lip, sending prickles down my spine. After a minute we pull away, both smiling like crazy and blushing like tomatoes.

“Umm,” says Harry awkwardly. “Good job.”

“You to, buddy.”

We sit there in silence for a minute before Harry exclaims, “Who am I kidding, that was amazing!” With a burst of courage he grabs my face and presses my lips to his, this time with more force. He swings his body around so that his legs are spread and wrapped around me. I pull him closer and dig my fingers into his back. My mouth seems to have a mind of its own as it moves down Harry’s jaw and onto his neck.

I suck the tender skin below his jaw and he lets out a groan. His back arches and he digs his crotch into my pelvis. Before I know it, our lips are back together and his tongue is grappling with mine. I gently push him away. He looks at me with disappointment.

“Harry,” I pant. “This is too fast. We shouldn’t do this.”

“Why not?” he asks and eagerly brings his lips back to mine. He clutches my shoulders tighter and continues to rub his crotch against me. I push him back again, this time with a little more force.

“No, Harry,” I insist. He rolls off me and brings his knees to his chest.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. I can tell he got the wrong idea and thinks that I wanted to stop because I didn’t enjoy it.

“Oh my god, Haz,” I groan, still turned on. “Why didn’t you tell me you were so good at kissing?”

He smiles with delight and asks, “If you thought it was so great why did you make me stop?” I look over at him. He is so handsome, and perfect, and tall, and amazing. So why the hell does he want to snog me like that?

“Hazza, does this mean you’re gay?”

He looks at his lap and whispers, “No.” I instantly get a sinking sensation.

“Oh,” I reply, feeling hurt. Why would he lead me on if he wasn’t gay?

“I think I’m bisexual,” he murmurs. He is still staring at his lap and he looks ashamed of himself. “Ah-uhm, well, what about you?” he asks quietly. I can tell how uncomfortable this conversation is, and I have a feeling I’m the only one he has told about his sexuality.

“Harry, I’m gay.” He looks at me in shock.

“Really?”

“Couldn’t you tell? We just had like the sexiest make out session in the history of make out sessions!” He finally loosens up and lets out a laugh.

“Louis,” he says, becoming serious again. “I-um-I think…” he trails off and looks back at his lap.

I grab his chin and force him to look at me. “What?” I interrogate.

“I think I have feelings for you,” he turns red again but can’t look down because my hand is still under his chin. “Feelings that are more than friendship.” He looks embarrassed, but he has no reason to be.

“I think I have those feelings too,” I say. His face illuminates with joy.

“You do?”

“Yes, I do.”

He pulls me in for a light peck on the lips. “What does this mean?”

“What do you want it to mean?” I ask.

“I don’t know. Maybe we could, like, go on a date sometime.” He still looks red and embarrassed.

“But where could we go that paparazzi won’t find us?” I inquire. He looks crestfallen, and I hate to see him like that. “Look, Harry, we don’t have to go on a date to prove that we have feelings for each other.”

“Ok,” he says, still looking disappointed. Then his face lights up and he says, “I know! We can go on a date, except in the flat!”

I stare at him. “How does that work?”

“I could make a fancy dinner,” he says, still excited.

“Ok,” I laugh.  Harry comes up with the craziest stuff. “When?”

“Tommorow. 8 o’clock. Be there,” He threatens.

“Obviously I’ll be there, dork, I live here!”

“Oh.” We spend the rest of the evening cuddling and watching television. It is a pretty amazing night if I do say so myself.