Collision; Larry

16.

Warning for sexual content.

The restroom is surprisingly empty, Louis notes as a bypassing thought when he storms in, breath heavy and fists clenched. Only two or three stalls are locked and the space outside is completely void of people.

Well. Except for one person currently standing completely still in front of a mirror, staring profusely into his own eyes.

Louis' rage blossoms like the color of autumn leaves. Harry is going to pay. For what more exactly, Louis isn't completely sure of yet, but he's going to fucking pay for it.

"Harry Styles," he grits out through his tightly shut jaw.

Harry flinches and snaps his gaze away from his own reflection, falling on Louis. He's clearly startled, as he almost stumbles backwards, pulling a stressed hand through his hair. Louis hates it when he does that. Louis hates how good Harry's hair looks.

"Louis," he greets him. "Always a pleasure?"

Louis doesn't have time for polite greetings with ironic undertones at the moment. He's on a mission.

"Fuck you, Harry," he exclaims, diving straight into it.

Harry's face drops rather comically from puzzlement to fatigue. He sighs deeply.

"What have I done this time? Did the thought of breathing the same air as me disrespect you?"

As a matter of fact, yeah. The thought of that does disrespect Louis a lot right now.

"You don't get to do this." He focuses his attention on his finger, poking it roughly into the point where Harry's heart should be. He's warm, in that spot, the fairy notices. Just like himself. Just like any other living, breathing creature. Just like any other being with feelings. With compassion. A rush of gentleness cuts through the anger in Louis' body for a brief second.

This cannot possibly end well.

Harry's visibly beyond over all of this. He looks at Louis tightly with a pursed mouth and just about stops an eye roll from reaching his face.

"I don't get to do what?" he asks. Tired. So tired.

Louis does not have time for his patronization. He narrows his eyes in unadulterated disgust and digs his finger more forcefully into Harry's chest.

"This is so disrespectful. This is so disrespectful."

His accusations don't exactly have the desired effect on the spirit, who just sighs and blinks rapidly, as if Louis is just so difficult to deal with. Louis is not difficult to deal with. Harry is. Harry and his confusing, out of character motives. Louis wouldn't be difficult if Harry didn't start it.

"Look, I'm not sure why you're still so hung up on this, but I still withstand that the guy deserved-"

A nearly animalistic groan erupts from Louis' aggravated ribcage, cutting Harry off mid-sentence.

"Not that, you insufferable tank of fuckvermin," he fumes. "You. Helping Jesy. With her curse. How dare you humiliate me like this?"