Love Me Please (Larry Stylinson)

5

After Louis ran away from his soulmate that first time, bolting off the stage and losing himself in the maze of sidewalks on campus, he was in denial.

For the half hour it took to find his way out of whatever loop of pathways he was stuck in and bring himself back to his dorm, he had convinced himself that Styles wasn't actually his soulmate. He had convinced himself that the momentous feeling building up in his chest wasn't the mark of finally matching, but rather just some unexplained phenomenon which he was overdramatizing to the point of thinking Styles was the one. It isn't an exact science and the feeling could've very well been wrong. He wasn't the one.

When you meet your match, and look into their eyes for the first time, a mark begins to form somewhere on your body: your soulmate's name written in their own handwriting. It's like a tattoo, only even more permanent, and it takes a few hours to become fully visible. There's nothing to do to remove it, and you have no choice of what it looks like or where it lands.

Before Louis was in this mess, he always felt sorry for the people with soulmarks in unfortunate places. For example, on their face. The bridge of their nose or the space of their forehead. Or perhaps somewhere more embarrassing, like their armpit, or on their ass.

Personally, he had always like the idea of a private mark in an innocent place, perhaps on the ribcage or the hip or maybe the inner side of a pinkie finger. There's something intimate about having your soulmate's name written on you delicately in a place that isn't always visible, something Louis has always found captivating and sweet. When he was younger he used to imagine one day gaining a mark on his breastbone, right over his heart, where he could look down at it whenever he wanted to and feel loved.

Because fate has never been on Louis' side, that's not how it happened.

After running away, he stumbled into the bathroom on the floor of his dorm and found himself afraid to examine himself in the mirror. Luckily, the bathroom was empty, most likely because everyone was already out enjoying their Friday night while Louis was having the biggest crisis of his life.

It didn't happen as expected. He didn't have to remove any clothes, check between his fingers, or even turn around. When his eyes landed on his reflection, he saw it immediately.

There. In thick, undeniable script, slanty and swoopy. A little bit ridiculous for how fancy it looked. Louis loathed it immediately.

There. Right in the middle of his throat, on his Adam's apple. Big and unavoidable. He felt like it was visible from space, it was so obtrusive.

He couldn't see it without looking in a mirror but everyone else could.

Harry.