Lets Cross The Lines We Lost {L.S} (Not My Work)

Chapter 9

**

By the time Louis gets home from work on Friday, he's got one night to pack for a two day trip to a seminar in Brighton, which they were apparently told about weeks ago, but Louis is determined to believe it was sprung on them this morning when Reynolds waltzed in late giving them hand-outs: “Attendance isn’t compulsory, but it is recommended as this will be considerably beneficial to the final paper submission.”

Louis is choosing to view this as a distraction, and Harry, on the other hand, doesn’t even really need to go considering he had already finished his work early so that he could spend the remaining days of the week visiting his mum, but he claimed he’ll show interest in it –– Louis knows he just wants to go shopping all of the quirky little shops, dragging along an unwilling Liam Payne –– Harry and Liam have already packed, and Louis is folding away a sweater next to a tank top because he has no idea what the weather will be like. 

“Lou.” Harry says. “Louis… Lewis… Tommo… hey,”

Louis spins around from his position on the ground to glare up at Harry who is sitting on his bed. “What? What do you want?”

Harry holds up a rainbow unicorn plush with big pink sparkly eyes and an equally sparkly horn, amused. “How long have you had this and why has it taken this long for me to notice? I might have liked you more if I knew you slept with stuffed toy. I mean, I’ve been on your bed enough times.”

Louis shakes his head and smiles down at the shirt in his hands. “It’s my sisters’, she gave it to me when I left.”

“Which sister?”

“Phoebe.”

“Cute.” Harry says. “She was like, four when I last saw her.”

It’s been too long for me too, Louis thinks, perfectly folding his shirt and placing it in his suitcase.

“You pack so slowly,” Harry complains, nudging Louis with his ankle. “We’ll leave without you.”

Louis elbows him away. “The train leaves tomorrow, you knob.”

“You keep refolding the same shirt, you’re like, meticulous, I had no idea. You don’t utilize that enough.” Harry says, amused.

Louis shakes his head, grinning stupidly wide. “God, do you ever shut up?”

“You’d hate it if I did.” Harry says.

Louis opens his mouth, about to say something sarcastic but there’s a tightness in his throat so instead he drops the shirt in his hands and gets to his feet, spinning around to find Harry smirking at him and he falls onto him without giving the other boy a second of preparation. His legs around Harrys waist, tipping them both back onto the bed, an “oomph––“ escaping Harry’s lips, Louis’ hands land on his shoulders, straddling him, pressing their lips together hungrily.

Harry’s already smirking against his mouth when he kisses back, easing into him, his hands smooth over Louis’ lower back, sliding beneath his shirt, and everywhere he touches, Louis feels it burn over his skin, feels it engrave into him; fingertips down his spine, the edge of his waistline, his shoulder blades. Harry’s mouth opens, slick, just enough to pull Louis in further.

“Mm, hi,” Harry breathes, lips curved when they pull apart. Gazes locked, heavy, but Harry’s features are so soft that Louis has to bite down on his bottom lip. Wow.

Louis can hear his heart beat loudly in his ears –– he kisses Harry again, sliding his tongue between his lips, sharing his grin. He tastes sweet, (probably from the brownies Zayn made this morning – without Niall’s assistance for once – and he spent an hour convincing Liam that they didn’t contain any dodgy ingredients) his tongue runs along Harrys bottom lip, mouth open and inviting him in, always inviting him in, hips grinding unabashedly, sending Louis writhing, frantic, he starts fumbling with the zipper of Harry’s jeans.