Falling For The Bully (Larry Stylinson)

Chapter 9 - "Promise."

Chapter 9 - "Promise."



Without a knock or any sort of warning, there's a ticking sound and the door of Louis' room swoons open to a boy who looks like has just seen a person grow two heads.

"What in the hell..." His eyes are blown wide, mouth fallen apart with a knapsack falling out of his hand and hitting the floor with a thud.

The noise only causes the curly haired boy to stir to his side and squint his eyes to the light peeking out of the corner of the curtains right beside him.

Seeming as there's a body standing behind, Harry pushes his body up only to meet his eyes with big brown ones then collapse back on the bed, his hand lazily covering his eyes in such shame.

Though, Louis is still knackered beside him, laying on his tummy, his cheek pressed against the soft fabric of a white pillow.

Harry digs his nails into his forehead with force and embaressement. As then he feels a dent on the bed. Slowly parting his fingers on his eyes to peek, Harry almost feels his heart stop when there's a face right on top of him staring at him with confused and horrid eyes.

The unknown mysterious yet really creepy guy picks Harry's hand out of his eyes, and throws it on his chest.

"Who are you?" The unknown name makes a face, between horrified and yeah, definitely horrified.

Harry pulls his bottom lip in, biting on it with no care as there's a face hovering above him and an oblivious, out of the world Louis Tomlinson laying just beside.

"H-Harry." the words come out trembled and shaky with a questioning tone for no particular reason.

The boy furrows his brows, eyeing Harry's face, then chest then back his face. "Yeah." And that is all he says.

Moving back, he stands just a few steps away from Louis' bed still carrying an astounded mask.

Harry slowly slides himself up on his bum into a sitting position, awkwardly looking back at the stranger.

"Okay, Harry...My intentions aren't really to freak you out right now, I'm already freaked out myself...Christ, what exactly are you doing in Louis' bed?"

Harry feels the usual shake in his palm and his heart beating uncontrollably out of speed. "N-nothing," he licks his lips, shaking his head, "I, I should, I have to go." He breaks his contact with the boy, and lifts the white sheets off of his lap to step out and leave Louis back in the bed, completely aware of the scene.

"Mate-" and before the boy could even attempt to say anything Harry's already picked up his phone and converse, and politely shutting the door behind him, trying his best to get out of the house as quick as he can.

On the way walking back home, or hoping to walk back home, a really quiet whimper escapes just underneath Harry's breath and it feels like a cue to take his phone out of his pocket and text his friend of pure kindness and care, "Help" with endless exclamation marks included.

Not more than ten minutes later, a bright red car curves around the corner, stopping beside the pavement. Harry jumps in the passenger seat gladly to open his heart out to his friend, Erin.



* * *


No longer having patience, and a few minutes worth of realising that his dozed friend will not be waking up any time soon, the tan, dressed in all black, ink covering almost all of his skin and carrying piercings in both ears, the boy walks into Louis' bathroom with a smug look on his face that quite seems like it needs proper shaving. Spotting a plastic vase, he dumps out the flower on the counter and fills the vase halfway with cold water and walks back to Louis.

"Loueh," says his name differently due to his accent of his own. "You get up, or I'm not giving shit about your wasted ass and dumping this on your head." He says simply, shaking Louis' shoulder. "Y'hear me?"

Receiving just a soft groan but not much movement, the boy does not care about the circumstances he is going to get after his actions and just simply shrugs, dumping the entire vase on his friend's head, soaking the sheets and the duvet and the back of his friends tank top.

Shuddering Louis curses in his sleep and once he feels a drop on his eyelash, he gets up in a millisecond, "what the fuck?"

"Morning, princess." The boys gives a hand to Louis, making him sit up on his bum.

"Christ Zayn! Don't ever try that shit ever again," Louis slaps his own temple with the pad of his palm, receiving a killer headache.

"Well, you weren't waking up and I got bored. You know, watching you snore isn't the funnest thing ever. By the way mate, when I walk into your room I usually expect to see a girl in your bed, not a fucking bloke. Are you hiding something from me? Your best mate?" Zayn shakes his head, with a smug look as Louis' eyes clench into a thin line, still smacking his head but slower this time.

"What are you bullshitting Zayn," he asks softly, as he stands up from his bed, walking towards his bathroom almost tripping on his feet.

Zayn notices that, but doesn't bother lending a hand and just flops on Louis' red, spinning chair.

"Am not bullshitting Lou. Am just telling you what I saw." Zayn shrugs as Louis' made into his bathroom and lazily unbuttoning his trousers to do his business. Having the bathroom's door open, he hears Zayn's response perfectly clear but doesn't react as the massive hangover he has is his only worry at the minute.

"The hair and the green eyes didn't seem much familiar."

As he pulls his zipper back up, and buttons his pants, the words repeat in Louis' mind, making him grab onto the sink's counter and rethink about Zayn's statement.

The hair and the green eyes. The hair and the green eyes. The hair and the green eyes...

Louis gasps lightly, grabbing onto his fringe with his other hand and tucking onto it hard but regretting it the next second as it only makes his headache more painful.

Just tiny bit of scenes from the night before appear in his mind, a glimpse of himself at a bar, music and bright neon lights bouncing corner to corner, then a creep of a house, and Michael the new kid continuously pushing and yelling at him, then Harry. Just Harry's eyes staring into Louis' and he's also there with Michael.

Clenching his eyes tight, Louis slowly massages his forehead, helplessy hoping to remember more from what happened the previous night. Just as he picks up his focus a voice echoes the bathroom making Louis stumble on his feet backwards.

"Lou, what the fuck are you doing? Are you pulling some next Raven Baxter shit on me dude?"

Louis glares at Zayn's words, "piss off Zayn," he murmurs, picking a tooth brush and spreading the paste over it.



* * *


"Seriously, I seen this weird creep in your bed and when I asked him who he was all he said was something like," Zayn looks into a distance, "Harry? I think he said Harry...I dunno."

Louis swallows on the painkiller bitterly, trying to avoid the questions coming from this childhood friend of his.

"And when I asked him what the hell he's doing in your bed, and I was pretty whipped too I mean s'not like walking into you with another guy happens everyday, so he just picked up his shit and said he he had to go and pretty much left after that." Zayn nods, digging his hand into his jackets inside picket and taking out a packet of cigarettes.

Louis just watches his friend from the corner of the couch, examining the smoke curling out between his parted lips.

"Lou," Zayn mutters before taking a long drag, "you gonna tell me why you look like you're about to piss yourself mate?" He chuckles softly, a faint smile on his lips as he brings the cigarette back between his lips, sucking another drag.

"Zayn, we're really close right?" Louis asks, his tone out of the blue and he'd wait for Zayn's response but seeming as he's too into the pleasure from the cigarette between his fingers, Louis just goes on. "Like, I know you left for a few months but-"

Then his friend smiles between a short drag, moving the smoke out of his lips, a teasing curve of his brow. "Yeah, few months Lou, not for a lifetime. I was gonna make it next month but then I thought, nahh I miss my Lou too much." He bats his lashes at Louis earning a direct pillow in his face.

Zayn gasps, looking between the pillow on the floor and Louis' eyes. "You fucker, that almost landed on the smoke! You could've almost burned the whole house, we could've died Lou! We could've died without me having sex after two weeks!" Zayn says dramatically as Louis rolls his eyes but can't contain a lazy giggle around throat either.

"You're a bitch," Louis glares at him who only wiggles his brows and takes another drag before throwing the short cigarette into an astray on the coffee table.

Zayn sits up on the couch, clearing his throat and leaning his elbows on his knees, resting his chin in his palm. "Where did that even come from?"

Louis knows what Zayn means, he sure knows that he doesn't mean the flying pillow. But the thing is, he also does not know where it came from. He asked a question yeah, but sometimes, Louis tries to convince himself, people ask questions before even thinking whether it'd come out wrong, or create unwanted impacts and Louis decides he should really think before responding this time.

"Why are you thinking Lou, God, just respond." Zayn makes a face that's definitely mocking Louis' way of using his brain when it'd be responding immediately.

The caramel haired boy sighs heavily, rubbing his hands up and down his face before looking up at Zayn's questioning eyes.

"Come sit," Louis tells, gesturing the empty space on the couch next to him.

Zayn stares bunglingly, pile of questions gathering more in his head. Biting on his bottom lip, he picks himself up from the armchair and walks across the room.

Taking a seat, and huffing out, he looks to his side, "yeah?"

Louis stares.

"Louis." Zayn nudges him, grabbing a hold of Louis' bare shoulder.

"I want to tell you," Louis says softly, lifting his gaze and staring into his friends wide, brown ones. "I want to, but. You don't-," Louis sighs tiredly, dropping his eyes down to his lap, looking at the ripped fabric on his jeans. "You won't understand," he looks back at Zayn, searching his eyes for any kind of support.

Zayn is confused, but the worry building in his mind is what really makes him want to shake Louis' shoulders to spill the words Louis's been stubborn to reveal.

But his body feels heavy and exhausted so he waits, waits for his friend to maybe answer the question marks in his mind.

Louis scratches his forehead, the nervousness taking over his fingers making them feel buzzy. He rests his hand on Zayn's knee then, noticing the drop of his face. "Don't, like, take it the wrong way. It's just, I dunno. I don't even know what I have to say, or what I should say and you know what Zayn? Maybe I need some treatment."

Zayn's lips part for the first time, his face as if it cannot get any clueless.

"What are talking about?" Zayn asks, a proper combination of both mocking and derisive in his tone. "What's gotten into you man? I only left for five months, what the fuck happened to the Louis I know? Why are we here having this creepy, weird ass conversation? We should be out right now, having me a welcome back special! I should be getting me some hot blonde to ruin tonight, Lou! You're a proper twat, what are you trying to do?" Zayn stands up from his seat, leaving his hands wide open in the air, ignoring the way Louis looks so tender and defenceless, only staring back at Zayn.

Shrugging is all he does.

The thing is, Louis does feel the need of every single thing Zayn's said. He knows he needs a break. A break from thinking so much, worrying so much, hiding so much, and Louis just needs a break from Harry. Because it's him who caused Louis all this, it's him why Louis feels so fucking exhausted and it's him why Louis wants to say no to Zayn, and that he'd rather stay in his quite home and watch one of those late night hockey games and then Zayn would say you don't even watch hockey, and Louis would be even more depressed.

"Fine," Louis grumbles, forcing himself up, "fine," he whispers under his breath, and walks by Zayn, not missing the stretchy smug look on his face.


* * *


Zayn's convincing words are how they end up shoving their fake ID's at the shit security and dragging their feet to greet their friends and celebrate a boy's birthday, Louis is not quite sure he knows the name of.

It's Friday and it's busy. The club is bursting at the seams with students looking to get shitfaced because they don't have classes the other day, beautiful boys in low-riding jeans and a few gaggles of girls, crowded around Louis and Zayn at the bar while they take down their shots.

Zayn makes a sign with his hands that he'll be back, he's just going to greet the DJ and maybe request a song. Louis nods, knowing Zayn loves that part of being at a club or a bar. It's always nice for Louis too, to watch his friend jump up with the huge, neon headphones around his head, always share glances with him.

Louis mouths "Rihanna" at Zayn, who rolls his eyes but queues it up nonetheless. Louis always wants to dance to Rihanna. Zayn plays a remix version of "We found love" and Louis goes back to taking another one of his combination of beer and coke. He's not determined to get drunk tonight, just meaning to take his mind off things and enjoy the surface of the club and the loud beat to one of his favourite music.

Time speeds up like that, Louis lazily swallowing down drinks and cancelling many offers to dancing with random girls and probably getting in their pants later on in the night. Louis is sure some were from school, he's just never been too caring to find out their names.

Every time he'd shake his head for a no at a random, desperate girl, Zayn would throw him the bird or the 'seriously?' look and Louis would just shrug and swallow down another glass.

River, obviously, also arrives with a total new impression of 'give me your attention everybody.' He winks over a couple of girls on the dance floor, with his Raybans sitting on his head, white scoop-neck shirt tight around his built torso and fitted jeans hanging below his waste.

He shoots a look over Louis' way, telling him he'd see him in a minute and Louis turns back in front of the bartender, not very amused to see River, for no particular reason yet.

Few minutes later, Louis looks over his shoulder to respond to the smack he's received on his shoulder.

"Hey man," River raises his brows, removing his shades and hanging them on the scoop of his neck.

"Hi." Is all Louis says, feeling just a bit uncomfortable by the way River takes his seat on the stool next to him, calling out tequila for his first shot.

River elbows Louis, with the little glass in his hand, "I see your cousin's back."

Louis nods, looking at Zayn who untangles the headphones over his neck. Resting them by the DJ, he shares a manly hug with him then walks back over to Louis with a big smile.

He stand between Louis and River, peeking at Louis' halfway finished glass. "You drunk yet?"

Louis holds back a snort, "nope. Not planning it yet either."

Zayn looks over to River, pounding fists and half hugging him. Chatting for a few minutes obviously feels enough for Zayn who calls off the conversation and heads for the dance floor, River following by.

Louis says he'll join them but, he doesn't. Taking two more drinks of his coke combined drink and a whiskey to finish it, he grabs his coat and walks out of the club, not bothering to assure Zayn in any sort of way.

It's quite cold outside, but the wind feels somewhat impecunious and adequate on his body and he's shivering really, but he doesn't mind. The alcohol has not really taken control of his body, as long as he's still walking on the sidewalk without tripping, Louis is good.

It's dark out and the last time Louis checked his phone was back at the club when his iPhone read 9:47 in big bright numbers.

He tucks his hands deep into his pockets, not aware that if he'd dig any further they'd start forming holes.

It's just that whatever Louis does, he can never stop thinking about him. He's trying, so so hard. But it's like his body is always betraying him. Louis did want to, he did try to take one of the girl's hand and drag her on the dance floor. Though, his body is constantly betraying him. His mind is definitely under Louis' control, but his body...not so much. He pressed the girl hard against himself, he even whispered things the girl probably never imagined she'd hear before, for goodness sakes. But the second he took her cheeks in his hand, dived in for a messy kiss, he couldn't control but jerk back like their lips had some sort of opposite electricity attraction. It felt wrong, and weird and wrong. He apologised and took his seat back on the stool. The word "why" repeating in his mind like it was on infinite repeat.

Exactly that's why Louis ends up walking down Doncaster's late night streets, because he just can't figure out what he wants.

He has not forgotten about what Zayn's said in the morning. Something about walking into Harry and him sleeping on the same bed. Louis wishes he did, but these days he can't seem to be forgetting anything about Harry. Damn, Harry...

As Louis is too into his thoughts, his feet being the only thing awake and walking him, he doesn't realise it until he makes an oof noise.

"Sorry, better watch where you're going sweetheart." Comes from a boy who's accidentally brushed into Louis and now walking away with a stupid smirk and a cheeky wink.

What, is all Louis thinks before noticing how dumb he probably looks just staring at a guy's back, frozen on his feet.

So he turns back around with even more question marks piled in his mind. Just taking a few steps is all it takes for him to notice by his side; a large glass window and inside is empty stools across a bartender table, red Scarlett walls, and what seems like no music coming out of the building and it looks comforting.

Louis opens the matching glass door and enters in, immediately meeting warm air on his goose-bump coated body.

He notices the empty bartender table, so he keeps his mouth shut and quietly takes his seat on the high stools. Crossing his arms over the table in front of him, he taps his nails softly to the light music coming from somewhere in the bar.

Just as Louis digs his hand into his jacket's pocket to fetch his phone until a bartender makes an appearance, the bartender makes an appearance.

Louis immediately removes his hand from his pocket and meets it with his other hand on the table, raising his gaze at the bartender.

"I'm closing up mate," is what the man that looks not much older than Louis says, wiping glasses with a rag.

He's slim, with brownish big hair and matching big brown eyes

"Can't I have one drink? Please?' Louis begs, moving upwards the bar table.

"Alright," he agrees, "you can have one drink, but then you have to clear out."

Smiling gratefully, Louis mumbles that he wants a bourbon and coke.

The other man sets about preparing the drink and watches absentmindedly.

"Argued with your boyfriend?" He asks, placing the drink on the bar and picking up his rag to continue wiping.

"What makes you think that?" Louis asks slowly.

"You've got the same expression as half the other guys who come in here every night." He explains. "You look like something's broken you."

"I actually meant why you would think I have a boyfriend..." Louis says, not responding to the bartender's observations.

"Well, this is a gay bar for starters. We don't get many straight boys in here." He states with a smile.

Louis glances around and spots the things he hasn't seen before at any bar he's been to- photos of men kissing on the pin boards, the lounge on the left decorated with purple walls and red leather couches. It isn't what he expected from a gay bar, but it had its touches.

"Oh. Well you should have a sign or something, to let people know that." Louis suggests.

"There's one to the left of the entrance. Right where you walked in." The bartender laughs.

He walks to the other end of the bar and moves things Louis can't really see, around before coming back. "So did you?"

"Did I what?" Louis asks, the man's voice snapping him out of his thoughts.

"Did you have a fight with your boyfriend?" He repeates.

"No. I don't have a boyfriend. I'm alone." Louis says with a frown, he wants to scream out that he's straight so badly but now that he's sitting on a stool in a fucking gay bar, he thinks being polite is the best option unless he wants his half-drunk ass to get beaten up or whatever.

Silence fills the bar again, broken occasionally by the chink of clean glasses. After a few minutes Louis downs the last of his drink and sighs.

He has no excuse to stay. He has to go back home. He takes his wallet out to pay, but the other man waves him away.

"Don't worry about it, you look like you needed it." He says, smiling kindly.

"I did, thank you." Louis nods and returns the smile. "I'm Louis by the way."

"Louis, good lad. I'm Nick." He smirks for second, before disappearing into the back.

"Nice to meet you Nick." Louis says in a hushed tone to the empty bar before walking out onto the cold street.



* * *


The next day 11:08AM

Harry and Erin are both sat down on Harry's couch, Harry still clothed in his pyjama bottoms and a thin white shirt supporting his top. His hair needs a comb, it's thrown to the side lazily as he's just woke up to his friend Nick's phone call telling him he's got load of shit to tell and he should have Erin also over.

So that's what Harry did; got off the phone with Nick, dialled Erin's number, and called her over in a quiet tone so he doesn't wake his older sister up.

Erin nagged saying it's only Saturday and why she had to do this so early and Harry apologised, telling her she didn't, which made Erin's heart sink with guilt and that's exactly why she's sitting down, asking questions like what could be so important that she'd have to be here so damn early on a weekend.

"I dunno, we just-" The door bell rings once, and both of the teens stand up from their seats, Harry opening the door before another bell goes on and next thing you know Gemma is up, eating out Harry's brain with questions probably more annoying than Erin's. It's too early for this type of thing, Harry thinks.

"Hey lads." Nick greets walking in between Harry and Erin.

"I'm a girl," Erin mutters and she's sure Nick heard that but he's just avoiding.

Harry follows Nick into the living room, eyes him as he hovers the couch across. Before he starts questioning, he remembers, "Erin, I've spoke to you about Nick before. Nick, this is my friend Erin who I've also spoke to you before. " He introduces as both of his friends share a lazy nod and a quick smile.

"So, what did you wanna say?" Harry takes his own seat on the arm chair, Erin choosing to stand tall on her feet by the entrance.

A simper crosses Nick's face before he smacks his lips and leans forward. "He came."

Harry's brows knitting together, he looks between Erin and Nick before giving the older man a look that reads nothing but, who came?

"Him. You know. Your boy, Louis." Nick smiles wider at Harry's confusion, which Nick, himself finds it as the luscious thing.

Erin's lost, Harry isn't.

"First, he isn't my boy. Second, what would Louis be doing at a gay bar?" Harry say straight-faced, "Nick, be more specific could you?" Harry adds, this time beg in his tone.

"Yeah, please." Erin also says.

"Well." Nick claps his hand, looking into a distance dramatically, "yesterday was the date. I reckon it was around ten-"

"God, Nick! Can you just tell me whatever Louis was doing at the bar?" Harry raises his voice slightly, but Erin quickly gestures with her hand, for him to lower his tone unless he wanted Gemma down.

"Sorry, okay." Nick shakes his head, "Louis came in, had a drink and left."

Harry glares, Nick is a proper arse. "Okay now, a little more details."

Nick's mouth drops, "details or no details? Make up your mind young Harold because I quite have certain places to be."

Harry swallows, shaking his head. "Okay, details please."

Nick sighs, starting all over again."The bar was empty and I actually had thoughts about no one stepping inside anymore. I left to clean the back kitchen, threw out the garbage and that's not very important. When I came back, he was sat on a stool. I acted like I didn't know him and I think it went pretty well. I also asked if he had a boyfriend-"

Harry's breathing stops. "Why would you say that?"

"Listen." Nick puts his hand in the air. "I asked, and he said he was alone. Do you know what that means Harry? That he didn't deny being able to have a boyfriend. He didn't say, no mate I'm actually straight. All he said was that he was alone."

Harry almost shudders at the last word, "so," he swallows shakily, "w-what does that mean?"

Nick sighs, shaking his head. "Jesus Christ, Harry. You're so dumb sometimes! It means he doesn't have a problem with being in a relationship with us, the male species. He's fine with blokes, no problemo! Get it?" Nick drags on, speaking almost word by word and it's actually meant to be mocking Harry but Harry just feels so overwhelmed by Nick's words he doesn't even bother to get offended.

"Harry?" Erin calls from behind, and Harry feels his beside on the couch dent.

He gives a small shrug, because there isn't much to say. Nick's words in point of fact make sense in such ways that it also has him adequately clueless.

"I think he'll come again." Nick nods, pulling Harry's eyes back onto him again but with furrowed brows.

"What? What makes you think that?" The younger boy asks hoarsely, after so much swallowing nothing but air.

"I dunno," Nick shrugs standing up from his seat before a clap on his knees. "I just feel like he will. I'm gunna open up the bar. I'll let you know when something happens." Nick leans into Harry, pressing a light kiss on his soft, warm cheek before walking towards the door.

Harry scratches his hair sheepishly, walking behind Nick with Erin's hand rubbing his shoulder soothingly. "Thanks," he murmurs.

Nick throws his jacket over his shoulders, turning around and smiling generously. "No problem."

And he leaves with Erin following a few minutes later. It's only Harry who's left behind and he's really so exhausted that collapsing on the couch is what all he needs at the very moment.

Just when he feels his eyelids get heavy, he kindly allows his body to get into a slumber, before his eyes flutter open to the annoying Marimba ringtone on his iPhone.

And Harry should really change it to something less cringing soon. He should also find that notebook of his under his bed but that's for later.

Reaching for his mobile right across from him on the coffee table, he turns the phone over and the caller ID reads Michael.

Harry should answer, he should be polite. He's left the kid all alone with the project for God sakes. But then the sleep in his eyes are so suddenly important to him that throwing the phone back on the coffee table all too casually is what he does next.


* * *

"I'm telling you, he's really here!" Nick whispers from the storage room to his mobile pressed against his cheek, eyes darted at a short, little boy observing his surroundings.


"That's just. I don't know, fine just fine. I'll be there. God, Nick please don't lie to me." The voice whines through the line.

"Look kid. Believe me or not, your loss. If you really care, come and see it yourself. I've gotta go." Nick hopes he doesn't sound like a prick, he really wants to help him but Harry always worrying isn't helping at all and Nick isn't a very patient person either.

The line disconnects and Nick shoves the phone into his apron's pocket, walking out of the storage with a brand new beam in his face.

His footsteps catches the boy's attention and he smiles back immediately.

Nick walks behind his counter, throwing a hand through his hair and ruffling it.

"So Louis right?" Nick asks slyly.

Louis clears his his throat nodding on the stool.

"What would you fancy for today?" He asks, turning around for the freezer and snatching a jar of ice cubes and turning back around to Louis.

"I dunno," Louis unzips his maroon hoodie, resting it on the counter. "Something sweet, mixed with coke." He shrugs.

Nick hums responsively, getting Louis' order done.

Nick bites on his bottom lip as he adds two ice cubes in Louis' tall glass. "Not that I'm complaining but, what made you come back here?"

Resting Louis' glass in front of him, he notices Louis' unreacted face and speaks again. "I mean, you didn't seem like you even knew about this place until just yesterday."

Louis pulls the glass out of his lips, nodding. "I know," is all he replies before taking another sip. "It's the drink mate, nothing else."

Nick chuckles lightly, as he leans down the counter looking for a wet cloth. Pulling one out, he stands back up again. Spreading the cloth over the counter, he starts wiping the top until it's shiny clean.

He's acting calm really, but, where the fuck is Harry, is all he wants to scream.

It's then as if the God's and the angel's or whatever up there hear him because a second later he lifts his gaze to meet a body standing tall just behind the glass doors staring with wide eyes and a parted most likely dry mouth.

Harry drags his eyes onto Nick, quickly shaking his head, like the worried teenager Nick always knew him as.

Nick then, looks at Louis who's just lazily picking up his glass and pressing it against his lips.

Harry is still standing behind the doors, the look he's plastered on his face whilst staring at Louis is literally so adorable and chimerical that Nick could just drag Louis' body onto Harry's so they could just make out already.

But instead he simply yells, "Harry! Nice to see you here mate."

His loud tone practically wakes Louis up from his wavy, long thoughts and it almost makes him jump from his seat.

Louis also brings his head towards the door and he literally has to brush his fingers on his eyes because Harry is standing in front of him and fate must really hate Louis.

"Harry?" He whispers under his breath, looking at the kid behind the doors in so many different expressions.

Harry brings his hand on the freezing cold door handle, pushing it and stepping into the bar, eyes not betraying Louis' for a proper second.

He doesn't take another step, just standing behind the closed door.

"Sit down, Harry." A voice comes somewhere, and Harry isn't paying attention.

Green eyes locked with bright blue ones, the silence is frightening both of the boys. It's too silent, even though a voice somewhere in the room is rambling over and over again, it's all too silent.

"W-what are you doing here?" Comes quiet from Louis.

Harry swallows in a slow matter, his jaw is so tense it makes the other boy shudder.

This is the part where Nick comes in and survives him from these type of tricky questions but Harry realises Nick's leaving this one to him so he answers on his own. "Came for a drink."

Then Louis shakes his head for a second, "you can't, it's illegal."

"So what, and you can?" Harry responds bitterly and it makes Louis' heart sink because he doesn't want to fight, he doesn't want to argue. He's way too exhausted for this, for another disappointment.

"Lads. Lads." Nick finally cuts in, half excitement in his tone. "Harry, why don't you sit down and I'll get you a drink."

Louis finally breaks their contact, turning around to Nick. "You guys know each other?"

Nick smiles a little too fake, then nodding, "I've known Harry for a looong time, we're really close. Almost connected." Nick says and Harry would really ask why he's acting so stupid but he's too busy lowering his anger along with his heavy coat behind his stool.

"Of course," Louis whispers to himself once again but Harry being sat so close to him, obviously hears.

"Louis. Harry. I'm going to get some fresh vodka from upstairs, you guys enjoy each other. Harry you can prepare your own drink, I'll be back." Then, he dissapears to the end of the corridor leaving both of the boys in complete silence.

Silence is meant to be peaceful and comforting but it really isn't. Harry feels hot and could literally run to the nearest toilet and puke because all Louis is doing is ticking something that sounds like his knuckle on the counter.

But then, "didn't know you drank," comes from his side and Louis is on Harry's nerves again.

"You don't know anything about me." Harry argues back but sinks back into his stool right after he realises how lame that sounded.

"I know that, I know that you have a crush on me." Louis finally turns his head, having Harry's eye already on him.

Harry's nostrils are flaring and he snarls. Fucking snarls. But he picks up the cool attitude again, "and I know that behind the whole tough-boy look, you're actually a proper coward."

The curly-haired boy thinks his words have finally hurt Louis in some ways but then the boy laughs.

"Coward?" Louis asks between his quiet, lazy laughs, "coward." He confirms. "Well, Harry I'm sorry but what exactly did you expect from me? That I would just run unto your arms right after I've drunkenly kissed you? You need to learn how to stop being selfish and-"

"I'm selfish?"

"Yeah, you are. You think it's always you, you, you. It's not. You never considered my thoughts, and you still don't either. You didn't ask me how I felt, you just expected me to feel the same way. Do you know how fucking sick that sounds? Never in my life have I ever kissed a guy, and when I do, when I drunkenly do," You weren't drunk in the bathroom louis, Harry wants to say. "I'm not expected to fucking react to it. But let me ask you a question yeah? How did you react when you first realised you were into blokes? You can't possibly tell me you threw a party, or did you. You wou-"

"Louis?" Harry cuts him, fragile toned. "Did you. Are you, are you into me?"

Louis swallows, looking back at Harry's beautiful face structure. He wants to go ahead and shake his head, he wants to scream and mess this whole place because he is. He's so fucking madly into him. No matter how much he denies, at the end it is what it is. Louis Tomlinson has fallen and he can't deny. Not any more.

"Louis, I need you to be honest with me, are you seriously. No you can't, I don't believe y-"

He's is cut off by Louis practically jumping from his seat, hauling Harry by the front of his jumper into a desperate kiss. Harry doesn't hesitate to kiss back, almost like he's been anticipating Louis' loss of control. This suspicion is cemented by the victorious little yes'es Louis hisses into Harry's mouth when his lungs begin to cry mercy.

If Louis had thought that finally kissing Harry would bring some kind of welcome relief to the sexual frustration that's been building since he first set eyes on him, he's hilariously wrong. His back might be hurting from hovering and his leg muscles are straining from the way he's leaning and trying not to crush Harry into his seat, but all Louis can think of is the heat emanating from Harry's skin, the softness of his lips, the scrape of his fingers along his chest, and how it's still not enough.

Harry can't do much more than kiss back, although he fights tooth and nail literally for control, and for a while they're merely gasping in quick breaths between open mouths before pressing in harder, more frantically. It's messy and wet and perfect, and Louis wants, wants so much more from his boy that he only came out to for a few minutes.

"Couch," Louis says, voice low, and Harry quickly sits up, whilst Louis drags him by his hand across the room and all but shoves him against the couch before straddling his lap, fitting his perfect thighs around Harry.

Their mouths find each other again instantly, lips fitting together easily, and it's like Louis' hands can't keep still, clutching at Harry's shirt, then his shoulders and neck and face. Harry holds Louis tightly to him by his waist, which dips in at the sides ridiculously under the cotton of his jumper. It makes his hands feel large and indelicate as they curve into half-moons, trying to pull him closer, closer so their stomachs and chests align and their hearts beat quick right through their skin and clothes. Louis licks into Harry's mouth, tongues sliding against each other, and Louis is sweet like coke and metallic like rain, and it's impossibly addicting, might just be the best thing that Harry's ever tasted.

Now that he's finally touching him in the way he's been craving, Louis wants everything. He turns his attention to Harry's neck, sucking briefly on his pulse before sending hot open-mouthed kisses down his frantically bobbing Adam's apple and into the dip of his shoulder, leaving marks that he can only hope he'll be able to see in the sunlight. It causes Harry to squirm uneasily under him, like this is just as overwhelming for him as it is for Louis - like every touch between them is taking him one step closer to losing all breath. He's making these sort of needy noises at the back of his throat that Louis can feel vibrate under his mouth and tongue, like a cat purring from long-overdue attention. Louis' arms work their way around his neck to tangle his fingers in his curls, gripping the strands tightly and causing Harry to loose a moan into the hollow of his collarbone. They kiss until they're out of breath, until Louis' hands are shaking and Harry's pupils are blown wide. They kiss until Louis' lips feel sore, until he pulls back and can just make out how red and swollen Harry's are.

Until Louis starts feeling dizzy and Harry goes out of focus.

They kiss until their eyelids get heavy, their mouths moving slow against each other. Louis must be heavy by now but Harry doesn't complain. Just keeps kissing him.

It's all too lovely until Harry pulls back, breathless and panting against Louis' parted, sore lips. "You're so beautiful."

Louis smiles down at him, all rosy-appled cheeks, and he's so beautiful, Harry isn't even exaggerating.

"You feel the same way, and am not dreaming right Lou?"

Louis nods and kisses Harry's neck, and Harry can feel him smile at the shiver it inspires. "I've never been so sure in my life," he agrees. He lifts his head and meets Harry's eyes, tired and hopeful and wary all at once. "Can I kiss you?"

"You're asking?" Harry wonders aloud. "Why are you asking?"

Louis huffs out an exasperated breath, headbutting Harry's jaw a bit. "I don't know," he whines. "I don't know what I'm doing anymore. I don't want to do something that makes you yell at me."

"I'm probably going to yell at you a lot," Harry admits. "You make me very angry."

Louis pokes at Harry's side. "Will kissing make you very angry?"

"Probably not, no," Harry says. He almost manages to stay relaxed when Louis does kiss him, only his shoulders and hands freezing up for those first few moments.

He runs a hand down Harry's arms, his fingers trailing over the goosebumps that rise on Harry's skin. His touch is gentler this time, nothing rough enough to leave marks, his lips warm and careful against Harry's.

"Promise we're not going to mess this up," Harry says once they pull apart. "Promise me."

Louis sighs, his hand a little firmer on Harry's back now, more sure that the touch is welcome. "Can't promise that."

"Well, promise me something," Harry tells him. "Anything. I don't care what."

"I promise I won't blame it on my drunk self this time."

"Promise?"

"Promise," Louis repeats.





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