Introvert

26

'There's blood splattered from a violent past on our lips

There's hatred laying broken at our feet

There's love in you and love in me

It's all we really need.' ~ Anonymous

||Louis||

It's probably right to say that I have never been more scared. Not even when Jade fucking Oliver pinned me to that wall, not even when Shyanna made him launch off, not even that time I came out to my grandad and he told me to fuck off. Showing up at class, ten minutes late, with blood on my shirt and on my face, nose not broken but definitely, definitely not right, and knowing Harry will be in there, is possibly more terrifying than anything I've ever gone through.

For fucks sake, I shouldn't be this scared. I shouldn't be scared of Harry at all. Harry is a cupcake. A fluff bunch. A hopeless sap at everything and anything. But there's a part of me that can't help but wonder if he'll still like me. If he'll still love me, if he'd be happy to be seen with me.

Which is why, rather than actually entering the classroom, I'm having what is close to a panic attack outside of it. 

After Niall and Shyanna had cleaned me up (Shyanna being a ridiculously kind person and offering to walk me to the class and Niall hopelessly adoring her, stumbling after her like a lost puppy, acting as if I hadn't been the victim of rampant homophobia), I'd set off for class. I hadn't even thought about the way people would look at me until I got tirty feet away and I suddenly considered the fact my shirt has been cut open, there's blood up my arms and covering my shirt, and my nose is skewed to the side. And it's not even that I'm worried about what the class might think of me. It's what Harry might. 

Which, okay, Harry has literally had his mouth on my thighs before, sucking love bites there about half an hour after declaring his love. And that was only last night, for fucks sake. And yet, even though my hips are covered in fingertip bruises, and my thighs have love bites on them, and my brain was sucked out through my c o c k last night, even though he admitted he loved me, even though I kissed him until he was moaning, I still feel self-conscious.

Nothing like almost getting stabbed to make you feel completely vulnerable. Okay, Christ, so I might actually be more of a dramatic bastard than Niall is. Seriously, that kid would recite poetry to Shyanna just for a brush of her fingertips. I should tell him that. He'd either write it down or start hysterically listing ways in which Shyanna is wonderful. Which has happened way too many times for it not to be a threat.

Dragging my attention back to the issue at hand, I stare at the door. The door stares back. It refuses to open by itself. It doesn't do anything.

"Rude." I taste like copper and I'm lisping something fierce. The door still does not respond. The door is an asshole. Why can the door not take over every responsibility I'll ever have? Maybe the door is also a homophobic asshole. I narrow my eyes at the hinges.

That's when the door swings open. Because of course it does. And of course it's Harry that opens it. 

He meets my eyes for a second before wrapping his arms around me.

I can't even believe I doubted him. 

||Harry||

I ignore the blood on his shirt. I ignore the blood on his shirt because it's Louis, and I've literally sucked his d i c k and I've been in love with him for probably as long as I've known him. I'll ask later. For now, my hand cradles his neck and I gently press kisses to his neck.

A soft, tiny whimper spreads through his chest and moves into my hair. Jesus. 

"Haz, you're not gonna turn me on outside the drama class." It's less of a threat than it is a plea, and I pull away to look at his eyes. He's pleading, looking absolutely desperate, and a tiny part of me breaks when a small dribble of blood pulses from his skewed nose.

"What happened to you, Lou?" I ask, and he bites his lip. It's a very stupid idea, and a small dribble of blood pushes between his teeth as well. My heart actually cracks, I am almost one hundred percent sure.

"Jade Oliver." He mumbles, ducking his head, as if he's actually ashamed. And then I look down. 

I feel my heart literally catch in my throat. There's blood. A lot of it, slowly beading out of a long, thin cut. It looks clean; there's no cotton fibres caught in it or anything. So somebody, someone cleaned him up. Louis wouldn't have bothered. Then again, Louis might not have gotten away. Jade Oliver is mentally weak as all hell, but he's stronger than Louis what with all of the boxing and the karate. And apparently, Jade Oliver has become skilled in the act of knifing. 

I glance up at him, and there's fear in his eyes. Actual fear. As if I could ever hate this boy, as if anything about him could disgust him. He could rub his damp socks on my tongue and I'd still probably find it endearing. Not that he wears socks. Neither would he actually do that even if he did.

"I love you. So much."

And he doesn't even say anything before he starts crying, doesn't even whisper a word to me as he crumples. I fall to my knees and sit beside him, rubbing warmth into his cold back, and feeling the aching pain of knowing nobody will ever respect Louis Tomlinson the way he deserves. And knowing, even though nobody will love Louis the way I do, that there won't be a day I won't tell him  that I do. 

this was so anti-climatic and terrible but I SWEAR there are reasons for this chapter being necessary I SWEAR. thank you sooo much for 450 comments and 4.6k!! so so happy about it! vote, comment, stalk as you wish! love you all! :*