larry stylinson one shots

if you love him

a/n this idea is a mixture of the song if you love her by forest blakk, a reedsy prompt and a one shot i read ages ago. i don't recall the author or the book but you'll probably find it in my reading lists if you're ambitious.

i know i keep writing sad ones but it's so much easier for me sorry ahah

this one might be confusing 😐

(the picture at the top has no correlation to the writing piece btw lmao)
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summary: harry loves louis. louis runs from his feelings.

au >>>> ot5 is same age

louis' pov

i view my rented tux with teary eyes.

i sigh and rub my eyes. i was too naïve. i brush my teeth and try to avoid looking at the mirror. i'm ashamed of myself. of course the inevitable happens and i view my reflection. i know i'm meant to see a broken 27 year old with dull eyes and greasy hair, but i can't.

"hazza help!! i can't reach the sink!"

"loulou we're almost five - i can reach look!"

"please help? i'll give you cuddles."

"fine, i'll find a stool."

i shake my head of the memory. that was ages ago. i hold my breath for a moment and study the features i've almost forgotten about on myself. my hair is ragged and thin, i've been dreading tomorrow. my facial hair is growing out too much for his- my. my liking. never him anymore. except it's always been him.

i quickly finish getting ready for bed and find myself under the blankets. it's so cold it feels damp. i'm uncomfortable and i miss him. i miss what i never had, what i could've had.

my head spins as i drift into an uncomfortable slumber.

the lights are off. i'm alone and cozy, until a hear a sniffling and feel a poking at my shoulder.

"lou," he snuffles.

"what's wrong?" i sit up.

"can we cuddle? i don't like being alone."

"yeah," i let him under my blankets and i protect him from whatever his fears may be.

"i'm sorry. i'm ten years old, i shouldn't be scared anymore."

"it's okay hazzie."

"okay."

"fuck," i shout out with tears falling down my face already. i can't do anything without him sitting in the front of my mind, teasing me.

my alarm clock beside me shines 03:17 brightly, disrupting the black darkness of the stale room. i listen to the cars driving by my second floor flat with no intentions of creeping back into a suffocating sleep. every screech of tires, every honk of the steering wheel, every swoosh of wind; i hope they are the opening soundtrack to his old volkswagen pulling into the parking lot. of course it never is. the old vehicle retired long ago, as did his passion for my splintered soul.

i lay staring at the time. i watch every change of the neon digits until i can see them even when i blink; the lost time engraved in my brain. the past time stays a motion picture of it's own.

when my headache is unbearably dense, i raise from my chilled spot under the sheets. the room is growing lighter as the sun surpasses the horizon more and more with every passing second. today's the day my fucked up reality is confirmed and i'm not ready. i'm not ready to move on.