no homo // larry stylinson ⚣

Act II: Scene Fourteen

ACT II
— Scene 14 —
P O V :  L I A M

"Why were you even with Danielle? I thought you hated her," I said, spooning the brownie batter into a tray.

Zayn and I were making brownies at his house. Of course, Zayn chose to put weed in his batch, but I left mine plain.

He shrugged, "I made more money than usual this week, so I thought I'd let myself go wild."

I gave him a disappointed stare, and sighed, "Alright, fair enough, but I'm assuming you won't do it again, right?"

Zayn nodded forcefully.

"Okay, let's put these brownies in the oven now," I said.

He laughed, "These brownies are about to get baked, and so am I, am I right?"

I facepalmed, shaking my head. We set a timer for the brownies and sat on the couch.

"So, the new neighbours seem cool," Zayn said, resting his arm on the cushion.

"Oh yeah," I started, "They're really nice people."

Zayn raised his eyebrows, "But what exactly is going on between them?"

I sighed, "They're good friends, but it's obvious that there's something more between them."

He grinned. "Tell me everything you know."

"They clearly have feelings for each other, and they act like an old married couple. The problem is that they're in such a denial," I explained, as Zayn nodded slowly.

"Wow, I ship it," He said plainly. I laughed.

"So do I. I bet you, right now, they're intensely making out whilst muttering 'no homo' under their breath."

P O V :  H A R R Y

I was bent over the kitchen table, reaching towards the back with a damp rag.

"Harry!" Louis called. I turned abruptly, knocking over the vase that was once placed on the table. It shattered all over the floor, breaking into thousands of tiny glass pieces.

"Holy shit!" I screamed. Louis came running down the stairs immediately.

"What did you do now, Harold?" He trailed off when he saw the broken vase. His eyes widened.

"Harry, that was my mother's! She fought in World War III and almost died to get that vase," He exclaimed. I covered my mouth in shock.

"Oh my god, really?" I cried out. What have I done?

Louis laughed, "No, I'm just joking. C'mon Harry, World War III?"

"Oh, I didn't think about that," I said.

"Just be careful not to step on the glass," Louis said. "Stay right there, I'm getting the dust pan."

I nodded obediently, shifting my weight to my other leg. Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain on the bottom of my foot. I panicked and jumped up to sit on the kitchen table. As I brought my foot up, Louis started walking back with a dustpan in his hands.

"I think I stepped on glass," I said, waiting for him to yell at me. He took one look at my foot and instantly dropped the dustpan.

"Stay right there," he said, raising his finger in the air. He then rushed to the living room, muttering something under his breath that I didn't quite catch, and came back with a first aid kit.

He lifted my foot to examine it.

"You've got a bit of glass stuck in there," he explained, grabbing a pair of tweezers.