Hate That I Love You

Chapter 6

As soon as Louis opened the front door, Harry immediately threw himself on his lips, starting to lift the shirt he had been wearing all day since he had stolen his sweater.

The boy smiled at the exaggerated desire of the other and let himself be carried away without protesting.

Harry pulled away from him so he could easily find the fly of his pants and it was then that Louis noticed the slightly swollen cheekbone.

"What happened?" he asked, frowning and barely lifting his chin.

Harry lifted his hand away. "Nothing," he replied, returning to focus on Louis's zipper on his trousers.

"Styles" Louis slapped his hands off. "You're bleeding."

"Ya and...?" he said, ironically. "And I bet it's swollen too, Captain obvious."

Louis rolled his eyes, then grabbed him by the wrist and quickly dragged him upstairs, making him climb the large winding staircase, which was in the center of the house and spanned all of its floors.

The boy stopped on the second floor, leading him down a wide corridor full of doors.

A few seconds later, Harry was certain that Louis had just taken him to his room (at least one goal had been achieved) as the walls of the place where they were, in addition to being covered with posters of famous footballers, were full of his photographs, since he was little.

It was odd that, despite all the years spent as neighbors, Harry had never seen his room. They often had friendly lunches at each other's home but his father had always prevented him from "going to the enemy's lair" whatever that meant.

Louis, on the other hand, when he was little, loved going to his room and messing with his toys. Harry has hated him ever since.

"Well, at least the bed is bigger than our usual hotel room," he remarked, noticing the king-size bed.

Louis stared at him absently, continuing to pull him towards yet another door, then throwing him inside. The place turned out to be a luxurious, modern bathroom with a jacuzzi sunken into the floor. "We already had sex in the jacuzzi," Harry muttered. "And also standing on a bathroom wall. So if you're trying to be original, you're failing miserably."

"Sit on the cabinet," he ordered.

"Do you want to try a new extreme position?" he asked.

Louis snorted, then grabbed him by the shoulder and forced him to sit down. Soon after, he opened a small mirror hanging on the bathroom wall, grabbed a cotton swab, and wet it with some disinfectant. Then, lifting his head with two fingers under his chin, he began to gently pass the cotton swab over the small cut.

Harry stared at him puzzled. "Why are you doing this?"

Louis smiled. "Does it seem so strange that I am helping you?" he asked, gently wiping off the blood.

"Yes," he nodded immediately.

"All right," he chuckled. "So I'm doing it because I don't want my blankets to get covered in blood."

"This makes more sense," he wrinkled her nose.

Louis laughed lightly. "What happened?" he asked him, then, in a low voice.

"Nothing," he shook his head.

"No?" he raised an eyebrow. "You are quite upset."

"What makes you think that I'm upset?" he asked.

"You would never risk being seen at my house, Styles. If you were so urgent, it was because you were upset."

"It seems stupid to me that you think I can't be seen at your house," he shrugged. "Well, what's wrong with that, we're neighbors?"