Swallows - Larry Stylinson

Chapter 3

Hey one person who's reading this, (if anyone) I know the last two chapters have been just Louis admiring Harry from afar but we're gonna get some introductions this chapter so yay lol, also I realized there were some typos in the last two so I'm really sorry I don't think there are any here😬

Anyway ...

Later that night Louis lay in his bed, arms clasped over his chest. His mind drifted from a
one thing to the next, mulling over the day. He'd wished he'd shown more gratitude for his Mum, the small motel room they usually shared every summer was exclusively his now, his Mum in the one next to him, which he knew wasn't cheap. As he stared at the ceiling in perfect quiet, he felt a thick, warm liquid trickle out his nose, dabbing a finger to it he saw it was dark red and sprinted out of room. Closing the door behind him, he slowed as he entered the dimly lit hallway, trying to breathe evenly and walk slowly as to not wake the other guests. He walked down the corridor with soft footsteps, hand holding his nose. He'd taken out his contacts and left his glasses on the bedside table, yielding less than perfect vision, but he thought he saw a vague, tall sillouhette up ahead. As he drew closer, the figure grew familiar, a broad back, and a head of curls framing an illuminated face. Louis' breath caught in his throat but he continued forward, approaching the ice machine.
They were both silent for a long minute as Louis waited for the boy to fill a cup with ice. When he finished, he turned around to face Louis eye to eye, leaning against the machine, inches away from Louis instead of moving to the side. Louis avoided the boys eyes, unprepared for the sudden closeness between them, he could feel the warmth of his body, even smell the beach on his clothes. He towered over him, legs long and shoulders broad. Louis felt his face grow hot, suddenly aware of his own, smaller stature.

"You're bleeding" the voice was sonorous, intimidating almost, contradicting the soft look Louis found in his olive eyes when he glanced up.
"Um-I know" His voice came out squeakier then he intended, causing a flicker of a smirk to cross the taller boys lips.
"Here" he said, and without breaking eye contact, he reached into his pocket for a handkerchief and in one smooth movement, shook a few cubes of ice from his cup into the cloth before bringing it slowly to Louis' nose. Louis inhaled sharply, taken aback by the sudden cold of the handkerchief and the proximity of their bodies. He reached up and took the handkerchief, their hands meeting for less than a moment, though the heat of his touch seemed to linger in Louis' fingertips. Stepping back, he exhaled slowly, realizing he had been holding his breath.
"Fanks" he muttered, his voice barely more then a whisper.
"Harry" the other boy said.

"What?"

"My name"

"Oh."
He smirked again, pink lips curling up into softly dimpled cheeks, before turning to the dim hallway, his strides long and fluid. Louis watched him as he walked, cool water dripping from the handkerchief, the motel eerily quiet except for Harry's footsteps and the gentle hum of the ice machine.

• • •
Louis lay awake through midnight, staring at the finger-nail moon that hung low and clouded just outside his window. Hands on his chest, he drew circles along his torso with gentle strokes. With his eyes closed it almost felt like someone else was with him, fingertips gliding softly along his body, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.