Swallows - Larry Stylinson

Chapter 6

Hey!! Sorry for the wait, I was away without wifi for almost a week:(((

Louis stayed in the next morning, laid in bed till past 10, staring at the changing light reflected on the ceiling.

"Louis?" His mom called from outside his door, accompanied by a soft knock.

Louis crossed his arms over his face, far from in the mood to be questioned by his Mum, still paranoid that she'd heard them come in together last night. He rolled out of bed, regretfully, and headed to open the door.

"How'd you sleep?"

"Good" he plastered on a fake smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"I thought we'd go to the beach today, we could grab some breakfast in the lobby?"

"Um, ok" he'd always had a hard time saying no, especially to his Mum, though going to be beach was the last thing he felt like doing.

...

Louis played with his cereal, he didn't have much of a appetite.

"Ya alright?" His mum locked eyes with him, eyebrows slightly furrowed.

"I just feel kind of sick...maybe I should stay here today"

"If your sick I'll stay with you"

"No, it's okay, you can go, I think I just need some sleep" he wasn't lying, he'd laid awake most of the night, drifting in and out of unsettling half-dreams that he couldn't remember after they'd jerked him awake.

"Are you sure? I don't mind staying"

"Yeah it's fine, you should go to the beach, don't worry"

"Well ok then, if you want me to"

"I do, Mum"

She sighed, "Okay, I wont be too long."

                                     • • •

Louis'd wanted to be alone since his Mum knocked on his door that morning, but now that he was he didn't know what to think. His mind raced a mile a minute, thoughts overlapping in a painfully jumbled mess. He plopped on his unmade bed and closed his eyes, trying not replay every moment of last night on an endless loop in his brain. He reached onto his bedside table and grabbed his notebook and pen, praying that writing would make some sense of his thoughts.

I feel like shit. My head hurts, I didn't sleep and I think I'm slightly hungover. I have this pit in my stomach that I can't put my finger on, I think it's guilt, but I don't even know what I feel guilty for. I'm angry, too, but I don't know why. I'm fucking stupid, I don't even know what I expected, why I even went with him in the first place. We were drunk, people do weird shit when they're drunk, but he told me he wasn't, and I don't think I was either, at that point. He was just toying with me, and I fucking fell for it, and i don't know why I fell for it and don't know how to feel if I see him again cuz I don't understand why I wanted him to touch me so bad. I honestly wouldn't be surprised if he was laughing about me with his friends right now. He's a hell of an actor, cuz that look in his eye, that fucking look, when he was all pressed up against me, I would die for that look.

                                         • • •

It was almost 11, Louis' mom had been back for hours but when she'd knocked on the door he'd snored loudly, stopping only when he heard the door next to his open and close. He'd done little else but lie in bed all day, head pounding and mind racing. He stretched, and forced himself up, vowing to would take a swim in the motel pool, hoping it would release the tension in his shoulders. As much as he cringed at the idea of running into Harry, he was driving himself batty holed up in his stuffy room all day.

...

Louis slipped of his flip-flops and slid into the cool water, accompanied only by the soft chirps of crickets; no one hung around the pool at this hour. He lay on his back, the water cradling him as he floated, head staring into the sky. For a brief moment, he let everything wash away and lay in this meditative state, taking slow, soothing breaths. Before he could zone out fully, a shrill giggle cut through his trance, coupled with a deeper, gravely laugh. Louis gripped the edge of the pool and peered over it. Two slightly stumbling figures walked towards the motel, one short and blonde, the other tall, long legged, unmistakeable tilt of the head and inked, built arms, one draped over the girls shoulders. Louis held his breath and sunk a little lower into water, so just his head was visible. The girl had both her arms wrapped around his waist, giggling, too-white teeth glinting in the dark. They climbed the stairs to the balcony and walked to door #213, Harry reached in his pocket for a key, but before he could get it the girl pressed him up against the door, smashing her lips into his. Her hands hungrily ran down his body, sliding one up his shirt. He had one hand in her hair the other at her waist, a finger slid through the belt loop in her jeans, pulling her closer against him. A lustful eagerness in her movements, she responded by pressing every inch of her body against his, hips grinding slightly. Ringed fingers slid down her back, over her butt, down to the back of her knees where he lifted her legs so they wrapped around him while she kissed sloppily down his neck. Louis could hear the heaviness of their breathing, the fumbling of Harry's key blindly trying to find the lock until finally, the door swung open and he walked backwards into the dark room, her legs still wrapped around him.

Louis exhaled, not realizing he had been holding his breath. His heart rate had sped up exponentially, he'd felt like something had kicked him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. He'd have rather Harry punch him in the nose than been witness to what he'd just been witness to.
Fuck

...

Louis lay in bed that night, wide awake, unable to push the images out of his mind. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Harry's hands, the way they moved down her body and brought it closer to him, wrapped her legs around his waist like she weighed nothing, the way they ran through her hair and hooked in the loop of her pants to lessen the space between them. He could hear the heaviness of Harry's breathing, quickening when she kissed down his neck, his head leaning back slightly, eyes closed, biting his bottom lip. Louis sat up then, and put his head in his hands, trying to even his breath and shake the visions from his head. He hated he power Harry had over him, the way his heart sped when he was near, his every movement etched in Louis' memory, replaying on a loop. He just couldn't shake him, and now he was tortured by the thought that he was fucking some girl less then 10 doors down from where Louis lay at this very moment.