World Cup [larry stylinson a.u.]

14.0

THE GAYNESS

“Jealous?” I decide to keep my eyes closed because I don’t want to see what his reaction is. He must be so happy and excited.

“I’m drunk,” I mumble, “I don’t know what I’m saying.”

“Drunk people always tell the truth,” he laughs, “It’s too late to take it back now, bubu.”

“Why do you have to be so annoying?”

“I might be annoying but you still,” he gets closer to my face, “Like me,” he uses a teasing tone that I would love to hate but it actually makes me smile. I’m never coming back to this country again because I’m not myself here, “You like me so much,” he repeats.

“Shut up!” I yell, “I don’t like you. Like at all.”

“Yes, you do,” he insists, “If you got jealous, you do like me. Like a lot,” he mocks me.

“Whatever.”

“I am a very likable person so I don’t blame you.”

“You are annoying and kind of a pain in the ass,” I open my eyes to stare at him. He looks pretty and that smirk on his face is giving me chest pains. “Someone stop this crazy world. I do not like the tourist because he is too gay.”

“You said it out loud, you ass,” he laughs for a few minutes and I freak out at first but then I laugh too, “The tourist? You call me The Tourist?”

“Yes,” I admit it, “And I call Niall The Hottie.”

“That bitch is hot, I get it,” he mumbles, “Why am I a tourist?”

“Because you are,” I close my eyes again, “You act like a tourist all the time.”

“But you are a tourist too,” he keeps caressing my hair and I would really appreciate if he stopped because it’s making me feel way too gay.

“I am but,” I don’t even know how to explain my theory, “Whatever.”

“I am a tourist that you like,” he brings the obnoxious teasing tone again.

“I’m done with this,” I try to get up but he stops me.

“What do you like about me?”

“Nothing,” I frown, “You are taking advantage of my state. Stop it.”

“Do you like my eyes?”

“Yes,” Wait. What? Stop.

“What else?”

“Nothing else,” I try to stay quiet, “Your hair,” I mumble.

“Aww,” he is such a queer, “I like your hair too.”

I open my eyes to stare at him again, “Nothing else?”

“Your eyes,” he gets closer to take a better look, “They are weirdly green.”

“Everyone loves my eyes and my hair. You are not being original.”

“I know this is my biggest flaw but I like how cocky you are,” he laughs again, “Like someone should bring you back to earth one of these days.”

“I’m not cocky,” I get offended, “I’m just realistic. I mean, I do look very good.”

“The shape of your mouth is weird,” he rubs his finger to my lip, “But I like it.”

“Your ears are weird too,” I shoot back. He won’t be the only one to insult me.

“Your forehead is kind of big.”