Caught [l.s] (boyxboy)

IM Sorry

so i finished my homework and supposed you lovelies'd appreciate an update. 

i think some of you didn't see there was an update last chapter because of the author's note i posted then deleted because it only got like 500 reads, which is half of what i usually do, so sorry about that. i know it fucks with the app when i delete and then post. just check to see if there's a chapter after this for me, yeah? i want you all to be caught up.

i decided to start asking you guys questions - kind like the QOTC - at the end of each chapter so more people will see it. pLEASE ANSWER OR I'LL BE EMBARRASSED

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“I don’t know. I think I like the yellow one better.” Louis cocks an eyebrow, holding up the pale fabric to his torso.

“Why? It makes me look disgusting,” he huffs, dropping the jumper carelessly and running a hand through his hair – he really needs to get it cut soon – and plopping down onto the small stool in the changing stall.

“No it doesn’t, you look great in everything,” Harry smiles all sweet and sincere; it makes Louis want to kill something. He hates himself for keeping secrets from Harry, he really does. Maybe the situation would have been a lot less severe if Louis hadn’t put it off for this long, but it’s been two weeks and with every hour that passes by, Louis feels worse and worse. Telling Harry now would be better than telling him tomorrow, but it would also be worse than telling him yesterday.

Louis taps his chin with his index finger boredly. “Y’know, you’re probably not supposed to be in this changing booth with me.”

“Probably not,” Harry muses, “but I guess they make special exceptions when you’re an international popstar.”

“I don’t want to toot my own horn, but..” Louis trails off, biting his lip as Harry giggles. “What?”

“Nothing.” But Harry is still grinning. Louis thinks that someone should really paint Harry’s smile. Just his smile. His full lips and shiny teeth and dimples and that little but of fine stubble on his upper lip – he’s sure he’d pay a lot of money for that.

“No, tell me. What’s so funny?” Harry just shakes his head, so Louis slumps and groans. “Tell me or I’m getting the green one.”

Harry’s eyes widen dramatically as if this is a serious threat that actually concerns him. Knowing Harry, it probably is (“but Louis, the green one is horrible. It looks like mucus.”). “Fine. ‘s just. Well. You said ‘toot’.”

Louis is in love with a five-year-old. This is not news.

“And?”

“I don’t know. It made me laugh,” Harry crosses his arms over his chest defensively. “Problem?”

“You’re such a dork,” Louis sighs, but to soften the blow, he slips the fuzzy yellow jumper over his head. He cringes at his reflection. Honestly, who does look good in yellow? He smooths it down over his stomach, self-consciously patting at it as he frowns. Harry comes up behind him, resting two large hands over Louis’ own, and pushes them away. His breath is hot on Louis’ neck as he kisses the skin there lightly, and Louis’ breathing slows as Harry pauses at his ear.

“Stop worrying about it. You’re perfect.” Harry somehow manages to make everything five thousand times worse just by being himself and existing. Louis’ hands clench into fists as Harry pulls away, and though Louis’ eyes are clenched shut, he knows Harry has moved in front of him. He can feel his presence over him, can smell his cologne, and can hear his shoes scuffing against the hardwood floor. And he can certainly feel it when Harry kisses him squarely on the lips.

“So perfect.” Harry’s lips are practically dragging across Louis’ hot skin as he kisses him on the cheek, on the jaw, and then back to his neck. Louis’ got tingles running up and down his skin, and when he finally opens his eyes, he’s surprised they’re not filled with tears.

He can’t do this anymore, he’s decided. He has to tell Harry.

But not here.

“Harry,” Louis mutters, slowly pushing the taller boy away with a hand on his chest. Harry’s brow wrinkles cutely in confusion, but Louis smiles at him instead of speaking right away. Sometimes silence can speak louder than a million words. “Let’s go home. Please.”

Harry leans his forehead against Louis’ and takes a deep breath. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

It’s quiet for another second. “Will you get the yellow one?”

“I’ll get the yellow one.”

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As soon as the door to their flat closes, Louis’ heart starts beating twice as fast. Harry drops their bags of newly purchased clothing to the ground along with his coat – what a slob. Louis definitely won’t be picking that up, he knows that much for sure – and walks over to rub Louis’ shoulders. “You’re looking kind of out of it, Lou.”

The gentle kneading of Harry’s fingers into Louis’ skin is comforting and nerve-wracking at the same time, simply because Harry is real and right there and loves Louis, he isn’t expecting to hear what Louis is about to tell him; and suddenly, that’s very very very scary. “I’m just…” No. No more lying. “I need to tell you something. Um. Something I should have told you a bit ago. But I need you to promise not to be mad. Please.” Louis turns and looks at Harry with wide eyes. Harry nods slowly, guiding Louis over to the sofa. As soon as he sits down, he gathers Louis’ hands into his lap and waits patiently. Louis takes a deep breath.

“Um. About two weeks ago, I saw Lucas-“

“Yeah, at the gas station. You already told me,” Harry interrupts. Louis sighs.

“No. Well, yeah, I saw him. But not at the gas station.” Harry opens his mouth to speak again, but Louis charges forward with his next sentence before he can get the chance. “I actually met him somewhere. A diner. Just to have a chat. No big deal.”

Harry seems visibly upset, but he shrugs his shoulders anyway. “Why are you telling me this?” He’s not holding onto Louis’ hands anymore, and that concerns Louis. A lot.

Louis wipes his – now sweaty – hand on his trousers. He bites his lip and looks away, just because the suspicion on Harry’s face is too much for him to handle. God, what was he thinking? He wonders if he could run and hide, but Harry’s much faster than he is and he’s sitting right there. Louis is trapped. And he feels overwhelmed by the situation suddenly; his heart starts to race. Fast. Harry bumps his foot with his own. “Louis, what happened?”

Louis looks up at him with sad eyes, and it takes him fifteen more seconds just for his lips to form the first word. He’s so ashamed that he can’t think. “We…”

“Dammit, Louis, what did you do?” Harry shakes Louis by his shoulders roughly enough that it scares Louis. Actually, genuinely, scares, Louis. Harry’s face has paled several shades. His grip on Louis’ skin is hard, harder than it’s ever been; it hurts. Louis wants him to let go, but he’s too afraid to speak up, because he’s sure Harry doesn’t realize how forceful he’s being.

“We kissed.”

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question time B)

q: what's your favorite song atm? (comment inline please)

a: probably your song by ellie goulding or bright and early by sleeping out loud.. not terribly unique, sorry, they've just been stuck in my head for ages.

see you after i get 100 comments!