Dalliance

It's Supposed to be Us

Harry and Louis – ages 22 and 23 (part 1)

The conversation that night didn't go anywhere positive. At least not yet. Louis stared at Harry while he fumbled for words for what felt like hours. He never said "yes, Louis, there is a chance for us, I just have to figure things out," he never told Louis that he wasn't stringing him along, he just tried to say things in a way that wouldn't hurt Louis' feelings.

That's how they ended up on opposite sides of the room, screaming at each other at three-thirty in the morning.

"You could have fucking told me!" Louis screams.

"Tell you what, Louis? Tell you something that I still don't know?" Harry yells back.

"Tell me anything! I've been following you around for two years like your personal bitch while you fuck me, while you fuck other people, while you figure out something that you're never going to know!" Anger bubbles in Louis' chest and out of his mouth, no time to filter things out.

"I don't treat you like my personal bitch. Don't ever say that," Harry points aggressively to Louis, it feels like he's a child being reprimanded. "I followed you around for God knows how long, Louis. I was only asking for some time to figure my shit out,"

"How much time do you need, Harry? How many more people do you need to be with to figure out that it's us?" Louis asks, his throat sore and raw from the fight.

"I don't know," Harry says firmly.

"It's us, H. It's supposed to be us,"

"How do you know that?" Harry's irritation sets back in, and he paces, wearing down the floorboards.

"Because you're it for me. I can't explain it past that. You've always been it for me and I don't know how else to tell you that... it just is what it is," Louis says.

Harry freezes, Louis can almost see the wheels turn in his head. Finally, Harry turns to face Louis. "Is that what your tattoo means?" Louis turns his face away from Harry. "Is it? The one on your chest, is it for me?" Louis sets his jaw. He never tells Harry what his tattoos mean. It's embarrassing and Louis knows Harry wouldn't understand, not really.

"Look at me," Harry tips Louis' chin toward him. Louis struggles, but eventually gives in. Harry's gentle with his hands and his voice and Louis can never resist, so he looks at him. "Is that for me?" The pads of Harry's fingertips ghost over Louis' chest over his shirt where his it is what it is tattoos sits.

Louis nods and tries to avoid Harry's intense stare. "Say it," Harry commands softly.

"Harry—"

"Say it," Harry says again, more authoritative this time.

"It's for you," Louis tells him.

"Why?" Harry asks softly, his fingers never leaving Louis' chin while the others rest on his chest.

Louis is done with this conversation. He doesn't want to do this anymore. He feels like he's under scrutiny and interrogation so that Harry can laugh at him later. Possible unrequited love and all. It's horrible.

"Praise kink much?" Louis scoffs.

He tries to free his chin from Harry's hand, but Harry catches him again and forces him to look at him. Louis doesn't remember Harry backing them up, but his back is against the wall, and he feels trapped. The only problem is that he loves it.

"Tell me why," Harry's face is so close to Louis'. He can feel his breath on his face and his hips pressed to his own.

"Because I'm fucking in love with you," Louis growls.