Undone, Undress (Larry Stylinson)

thirty-three

He was right about the lust thing, though.

This becomes apparent one night during the subsequent weekend, as Louis is asleep in his bed after a day of cramming for final exams which begin in two days. They're both so unbelievably stressed and caught up with exams that they haven't even discussed plans for the holiday and it doesn't even cross Louis' mind for a moment.

There's a sound that somehow wakes him even though it's quiet and barely there. This is part of what leads Louis to believe that he's more than aptly attuned to all things Harry, most notably his distress.

He opens his eyes and it takes a moment for them to adjust to the darkness but when they do he sees Harry standing in his doorway, curled in on himself, arms wrapped around his middle. Louis can't see his face because mostly he's just a silhouette from the dim hallway light. It's frighteningly grim to see him cast in shadow, standing silently at the foot of the bed, unmoving.

"Harry?"

He sniffles in response, obviously crying. Always crying. It happens too much for it to not be a serious problem.

"Come here..." Louis sighs. "What's wrong?"

Harry clambers onto Louis' bed and beneath the covers, clinging to Louis' side like he can't bare the thought of letting go. Which is ridiculous, frankly.

"I need you," he cries.

Beneath the distress and sadness, how nice it feels to be needed. "I know, H, it's okay. I'm here. It'll be okay."

"No, I mean- I'm horny," he says, and. What?

"What?" Louis voices, pulling away but Harry follows, grasping steadfastly at his jumper.

"He doesn't want to see me," Harry blubbers, sobbing violently. "He- he found someone else and now he doesn't need me, but I still need him and I'm horny and I just need someone to fuck me-"

"Wait," Louis interrupts, shushing him with a hand over his mouth, because god is his mind spinning and he has to clarify at least one important detail in order to even begin parsing through this colossal mess. "You're talking about Roman?"

Harry nods, exhaling heavily through his nose because Louis' hand is still covering his mouth.

"Oh," Louis breathes, dropping his hand and finding himself unable to formulate a real sentence.

"Please fuck me," Harry whines, grabbing at Louis and holding him tightly with worried hands. "Please, please, please-"

But Louis smells the alcohol on his breath and all of it feels so wrong, so messed up, and Louis' heart is jackrabbiting in his chest. And yeah, it doesn't feel great, because Harry wants to get off but apparently not alone and Louis is just the means to an end, like some sort of severely messed up sexual objectification.

And like, it brings him back to the past few years when he has been used time and time again as just a body to fuck, by boyfriends and strangers and really anyone who took an interest in him at all. No matter who he dated, no matter who he met, if they wanted him it was for sex only, and that was... That was messed up. That was probably the worst era of Louis' life, and now Harry is dragging it up again and acting so blase about it—about love and the intimacy of sex—and it's making Louis so upset he's nearly sick.

"Harry, no. No. I'm not doing that."

"But-"

"No. No, I'm not- No. Get out of here. Go back to bed."

"Louis," Harry whines, like a child, and god, that's so messed up. So messed up. Louis shoves Harry away and he takes the breathy alcohol scent with him.

"No Harry, fuck, no. I'm not just- You can't just use me like that. "

Harry stares at him for a long, wavering moment. But Louis refuses to back down. There is no way he would ever let something so irresponsible happen, regardless of needs and wants.

So Harry leaves, and Louis cries because nothing makes sense, and it hasn't made sense for a long time.