Letters to the Author -Larry Stylinson

chapter nine

"Any luck?" Niall walked up to Louis, who was standing in place, frozen. Niall nudged his shoulder with furrowed brows. "Louis. Look at me. What's wrong?"

Louis looked at Harry's retreating figure, at the way his curls bounced and flew in his face as he turned to say something to Taylor, who was holding his hand and smiling at him like he was a piece of gold. Louis hoped that he didn't look like that when he was staring at that beautiful boy.

"Should I be creeped out by this?" Louis asked, turning back to the blonde boy and handing him the note. Niall took it from him gently, scanning over it for a second before he let out a noise.

"I am." He shook his head. "What does this mean?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out!" Louis complained, grabbing the note from Niall and stuffing it in his pocket. "He's so... mysterious." Louis couldn't help but smile as the thought of meeting Harry ran through his mind. Nial reached out and patted his cheek.

"Louis. Are you sure you haven't talked to him before, or known him before? Because I don't see how he could know all about you." He snorted. "Prince."

"Hey!" Louis reached out and slapped Niall's arm. "I.. uhm.. I like that nickname, Niall."

"You already like him," Niall stated.

"I already liked him before I met him!" Louis exclaimed. 

"Apparently you've already met him," Niall mumbled. Louis glared at him, crossing his arms and walking to the other room of the frat house. He was tired of being in the kitchen. 

"I don't like parties," Louis sighed as he sat down on the couch. There was only one other person sitting there, staring at their phone with a bottle of beer clutched tightly in their hand. Louis avoided him as much as possible.

The room was even more humid and uncomfortable than the kitchen. Louis could smell the alcohol, the sweat, even the sex. And he didn't like it one bit. He didn't like the dim lighting of the place, and no matter how much he squinted through his glasses it was hard for him to see. He frowned, leaning back into the couch that was sunken in from many people sitting, or laying on it. The note was practically burning a hole in the pocket, begging to be opened, even though he had already read over it too much.

Niall quickly got engaged in a conversation with a girl standing in front of them, who was swaying her hips back and forth to the music and smiling at the blonde boy. Louis half-heartedly laughed a few times to show that he was interested, because he didn't want to look completely alone. But after a while, he was too tired to keep track and he laid his head back, letting the loud music numb the noise in his ears, letting the loneliness surround him, just like it used to.

And right when he closed his eyes, he saw a small flash of Harry's face. And it scared him, it frightened him. He was afraid to open his eyes, because the image would go away, and he would go back to being clueless, to being unknowing.

It was definitely Harry, but he was younger. His eyes were filled with wonder and youth, green and wide. His long lashes were prominent against his light lilac lids, his lips a deep shade of red that contrasted perfectly against his soft, pale skin. He was standing next to a wall, dressed in a baggy sweatshirt and sweatpants, tucked into a pair of Ugg boots. Louis could barely make out the curve of his jawline, the prominence of his dark eyebrows.

He was beautiful, and he was young.

And suddenly, Louis couldn't see that boy anymore, but he could see the older one, the less innocent one, standing in front of him, his eyebrows pulled together in a deep frown.

"Louis?" He asked, his accent always music to Louis' ears.

Louis looked to his right. Niall was gone, his laugh disappearing with all the others at the party. It was emptier. The trash had increased; the volume decreased. Louis took a moment to catch his breath, to fully open his eyes as the image of Harry faded back into the deep part of his mind, the part he could never seem to reach. 

"Louis? Are you okay?" Louis flinched as he felt a pressure on the side of his face, and he looked up through his lashes to see Harry, his hand on Louis' cheek and their noses almost touching. Louis' breath caught in his throat, and he couldn't find it in himself to pull back, although Harry's rings were so cold against his flushed face.

"Y-Yeah," Louis breathed, blinking rapidly as Harry pulled back. "I'm fine. Why?"

 "You've been sitting there alone for quite a while. I've been keeping an eye on you." Harry gave him another one of those sneaky smiles, and Louis shook his head.

"What?" He leaned back into the couch, every step that Harry took towards him causing him to cower further into himself. But just as Harry ran his fingers lightly against Louis' bare arm, giving him goosebumps, Louis jumped up off the couch and pushed Harry to sit down. "Stop it."

Harry's eyes grew darker, although they were practically glowing against the neon lighting of the disco ball spinning in the corner on the desk. People were still dancing, still throwing themselves all over each other as music continued to play. Louis recognized Niall, showing the same girl from earlier something on his phone.

"How do you already know me?" Louis asked, and before Harry could answer, he continued to talk. "You were so beautiful when you were younger."

Harry blushed, a sight Louis thought he was graced to see, it was beautiful. Because when he was embarrassed, all of the power and mystery left his eyes for a second and he looked real, genuine, kind. He looked like a boy Louis thought he knew. But he didn't know how. 

"You don't know anything about me, Tomlinson," Harry glared.

"You're right," Louis said. "And you don't know anything about me, Styles."

Harry closed his eyes for a second, before looking to the side and giving a small smile. "Perhaps you're right, prince."

***

Don't mind me. I'm just sobbing over how perfect Harry Styles is.

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-Kayla. x