Read All About It

Chapter 14

I feel like an absolute prick for doing this, but it’s the only way I know how to solve this problem.

It’s not like I purposely remembered what Harry’s letters had said way back when he first started writing them, it just happened to come into my mind. And I know it didn’t exactly help our situation, but, I mean, I’m older than Harry and can handle something like this better than he could. 

So, I think the best decision is to just take a break from Harry like he tried to do with me. Not sudden, because going cold turkey is obviously not going to work for either of us, but gradually. 

As much as I love what ever has been happening between Harry and me, I’m not sure it’s the best idea for us in the long run. I’m not gay and neither is he, so why should we just keep playing with this notion of messing around with each other just because. It’s wrong.

I feel like i’m cheating on my ‘straight’ side of myself. Harry’s just a tempting little fuck that is coming in and messing with my lips with his amazingly luscious pink ones, and those long fingers of his messing with my feathery hair, and his tongue messing with the dip by my collar bones and-

“Louis? Are you busy?”

Nope! Just thinking about how you make me feel fucking amazing and wrong all at the same time. Not busy at all.

“No, why?” I called back to him in some other part of the house.

I saw his curls peek into the doorway first followed by big green eyes and lastly his big dimpled grin. 

“What are you on about, Styles? I’m too tired for games today.” Start slow, Louis. Gradual separation.

“Oh, nothing. I just was in my bedroom thinking about how hot you look in your black Calvin’s and I was hoping you’d have them on.” His eyebrow arched in cheek and I sputtered in shock at his crude and blunt response. My eyes looked down to my lower half and I sighed heavily as I realized where this morning would be going. I was sitting on my bed in nothing but a worn out Aerosmith tee and black Calvin Klein boxers.

When the realization hit my face, Harry’s grin spread even wider across his face.

“Since when do you think i’m hot, Harry?” I asked, hoping to avoid any potential intense interactions that could undoubtebly stem from this.

He scooted his body so he was standing in the doorway now, his hands grabbing the top of the door frame casually. “I don’t. It’s just when you wear those.”

I scoffed in response. “You don’t think i’m hot?”

“No.” He replied matter-of-factly.

My mind was thoroughly confused. “What do you think I am then?!”

“Well. You’re sort of…pretty, Louis.” He shrugged like that definition of my physical appearance was common knowledge.

“I can be hot.” My jaw was tensing in slight frustration as my statement was washed out by Harry’s echoing laugh.

“No you can’t sweetheart. It’s not a bad thing, I was just telling you what I thought.”

For some reason, the fact that he didn’t think I was hot was seriously bugging me deep down in the pit of my stomach and I knew I had to do something to change his mind.

It’s just Harry, you don’t need to prove anything. Stopstopstopstopsto-

The thud of Harry being pushed out of my door frame and against the hallway wall cut off my thoughts of logic and sense and was supported by the moan elicited from Harry’s mouth as I latched my mouth onto his neck.