Mr. SoulMate (Larry Stylinson Short Story)

Part Two Hello, Mr. SoulMate

{sorry about any grammar and spelling mistakes. WARNING: there is excessive swearing.}

1 minute and thirty seconds

I'm gonna fuck this up I just know I will. Either by barfing on her, peeing myself, offending her, or some weird mixture.

"M-mom, I need to use the loo. I'll be right back," I say, not waiting for a response and walking away from the line for the men's room. I get there as quickly as possible, trying not to miss the girl of my dreams. I enter the mostly vacant bathroom, which is always nice, so I walk over to the urinal on the end and do my business. One thing I don't realize is that as I'm having a wee my timer is down to mere seconds. I zip up my pants and turn around, running into a wall-like body.

"Oops," he rather confidently for touching some stranger in a bathroom. I mutter an awkward "hi".

I glance down at my wrist and look up in total amazement.

"Please tell me your timer's on zero, too," he says.

He has long, curly, brown hair and he's just about my height. He looks like he's a few years younger than me. His skin isn't particularly tan but it's not particularly pale. He has these dimples that would make any girl weak at the knees, and a voice that I'm pretty sure could make anyone swoon.

Words seem to fail me so I just nod.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Mr. SoulMate," he says, grabbing my hand as if to shake it. Of fucking coarse he guides my hand up to his lips and kisses it.

"Um... This is awkward... I'm straight?" I say in confusion but just then he stares into my eyes. He just fucking blew the protective walls right off of my fucking soul. My soul is now fucking bare and he's fucking fondling it with those fucking beautiful emerald eyes. I almost scream 'Stop groping my soul!' but for now, we'll let him think I'm normal.

"God doesn't seem to think so," he says. Butterflies start in my stomach, knotting it. Once my stomach is thoroughly tangled in itself these butterflies don't seem content, so they move on to my other organs. What the fuck is this feeling? It's enticing and addicting as fuck, and I never want it to stop, but at the same time it scares me shitless and has my palms sweating. Part of me needs it to stop or there is a chance I'll shit myself right here, right now.

"And suddenly I don't care that I'm straight," I say as he starts to grin. His dimples make me weak at the knees. I hold my arm out of him as I say, "So Curly, what's your name?"

He links his arm with mine and we start to walk out of the bathroom as he says, "Harry Styles, you?"

"Louis Tomlinson."

"Nah, Mr. SoulMate seems more fitting."

"Well, you seem like more of a Curly to me."

{Thanks so much for reading this! If you liked it, please vote, so I know that it was decent.}