Love Me Please (Larry Stylinson)

12

They kept running into each other. Sometimes Harry made it happen on purpose but a lot of times he didn't even mean to do it. It felt like the universe was desperate to get them together. Harry could relate.

They would see each other in the dining hall, the library, and random study places around campus. Harry always stopped to say hi but Louis would never give him the time of day. Harry tried to be blase about it, pretending not to care, pretending to be confident. They only talked about it once when Harry finally cornered him and gave him no place to run, demanding an answer.

It was at a party. Harry's frat's party. Why was Louis even there, if he was avoiding Harry so badly? It made no sense. Harry set his drink down on the countertop and rushed towards Louis immediately upon seeing him. His back was towards him but still the sight of him took Harry's breath away.

He was wearing skinny jeans and an oversized sweater with a collar high enough that it covered his neck. Harry hadn't seen it yet but it was a good guess that his mark was there, somewhere. He found himself fantasizing about what it looked like, imagining his name on Louis' skin. He pulled himself out of the dangerous thought process by instead focusing on his body, his thick thighs looking great in his jeans, the way the curve of his waist was visible even through the baggy sweater, how he let the sleeves fall down to cover his hands. He looked so beautiful and so out of place.

Before he could think about what he was doing, Harry set his hand on Louis' shoulder and turned him around, pressing him against the wall. His movements were gentle and soft, careful not to hurt him or upset him. Making sure Louis could escape if he wanted to, even though he didn't want to see him go.

He dropped his grasp from Louis' shoulders but set one hand on the wall beside his head.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" he asked, aiming for easy confidence. The term of endearment was purposeful and honest but it sounded sleazy when he said it, and he immediately regretted it. The worry he had felt for days was seeping into his voice and he knew Louis could hear it too. It made him feel vulnerable and he hated that, but he couldn't help it. "We're matched! We're- We're soulmates."

"It's a mistake," Louis had said, curling his arms uncomfortably up to his chest. One hand traveled up in front of his neck like he was protecting himself. He was glaring, too, probably at the nickname. "You know it doesn't always work right."

Harry couldn't believe it. Everyone had heard the stories of mismatches, of soulmates falling out of love and finding other people they wanted to be with. The stories of infidelity and greed, the gruesome ones that ended in betrayal.

Harry felt betrayed, too. He knew that was dramatic but he couldn't help it. He was so depressed over it. His heart was aching constantly.

"You don't love me, baby?" he had asked, when Louis had said that. It's a mistake. A mistake. It hadn't felt like a mistake when they had kissed. He didn't understand. Baby felt more real, more right.

"I don't." Even though Louis whispered, Harry could still hear him. "I don't love you. And don't call me that."

Harry was so stunned at hearing those words, he remained very still and couldn't move even if he tried. Louis took in his silence, bit his lip, and ducked beneath Harry's arm. Harry watched him leave for the millionth time. He had his hands clutching his neck like he was afraid of someone hurting him.

Or maybe it was the mark he felt, burning his skin. The feeling of love that was supposed to be there, but wasn't.

The certain emptiness that came with it all.