The Titanic (Larry Stylinson)

Chapter Seven

Larry Stylinson/Titanic!AU

Chapter Seven.

AN: My eyes are bleeding. When did I stop writing normal chapters? When did these monstrosities begin? On another note, I’m sorry this is so late. I got pulled away earlier, so this is all post-midnight writing and I apologise in advance for any typos/editing mistakes from here on in. 

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Harry wasn’t prepared for how wrong it felt to wake up in his own bed without Louis there beside him. He couldn’t put his finger on why, but he supposed a part of him had somehow hoped and expected that the quirky boy would find a way to be there in the morning, cuddled into his side like no one else would dare do to someone that had only just met.

He had regretted his decision to return to his own rooms the moment he had made it the previous night, but it had been fear of his own feelings that had pushed him into that choice. Knowing that his insides had tangled from only an embrace on a freezing balcony had not given him much faith in his own self-control, and he had foolishly believed that it would be of use to put some distance between them rather than indulging the want that was seeping too quickly into his blood. He had not readied himself for the possibility that he would only awake to a wave of longing that only intensified the feelings that so desperately wished to avoid.

Liam was already wide awake on the other side of his bedroom door, and Harry’s friend greeted him with the only sentence that could have lowered his mood any further in that moment. “Your dad came by a little while ago.”

Harry felt the immediate urge to turn around and walk back the way he had come, burying himself into his bed covers once more, but instead he affected a polite expression that was useless on someone that knew him so well. “Really?” he replied in a saccharine voice, smiling too widely. “And what exactly did he have to say? It was about yesterday, I’d imagine?”

“Actually, no,” Liam said in a blank tone, and Harry’s façade dissolved as real surprise flickered across his face. “He didn’t say anything about yesterday – but that might have been because I didn’t give him a chance to. As soon as he came in I started telling him that you had become very seasick in a matter of hours. I think I may have insulted the entire kitchen staff on this ship while I was at it, telling him that you had food poisoning on top of that, so if he comes in here again please do your best to look as if you’ve been vomiting into a cast-iron pan for the last twelve hours, alright?”

Liam’s voice never rose as he stated out that long explanation, but Harry’s eyes slowly widened as those quickly spoken words left his friend’s mouth. There was an unusual serenity to Liam’s expression, he noticed, and he wasn’t quite sure what to make of the chirpy tone that persevered in his voice despite the dark circles that marred his eyes and the air of tiredness that clung to the slump of his body. They had stayed out as late as they could, of course, but while Liam bore some sign of that late night; Harry had rarely seen him so cheerful.

“Harry?” he prompted, when the younger boy scrutinised him for too long without making any response. “Did you hear what I said?”

“Yes,” Harry blurted sheepishly, “sorry. Thanks for doing that, I doubt he would have been too happy for the real explanation.”

Liam’s voice was rueful. “No, not exactly. But don’t thank me yet,” he added grimly, “because he also said to tell you that you have got to go to the event tomorrow night. No exceptions, no excuses and no misbehaving while you’re out there, either. You’re not allowed to throw up anymore, apparently, and if you’re anything but polite to Nora while you take her out – well, he didn’t specify to me, but I assume it’s not going to be a simple slap on the wrist for it.”