Silenced- A Larry Stylinson Story

Chapter 41- POV Third Person: The End

"Louisssssss..." Harry calls, voice echoing through the almost bare apartment- except for the ragged brown couch they had found for free on the side of the road earlier that week. He sets his backpack down next to the door, chuckling. 

"Louis, where are you? Band practice was good. We're almost ready for the talent show- it's going to be epic. How was your day?"

When he hears no response, he peers into the kitchen and begins howling when he catches Louis cooking, of all things. He is wearing a too-big yellow apron stained with all sorts of unknown concoctions. 

A spoon tucked in between his thumb and middle finger the way a princess would hold a teacup extends into an overflowing pot, bubbly red liquid spilling over the sides and running across the stovetop. A bag of flour sits on the floor, contents spilled everywhere. A cracked egg rests on the edge of the counter, slimy innards dripping onto the lower cabinets and floor.

Louis stands in the middle of it all, one arm still reaching out to hold the wooden spoon, the other arm posed against his forehead, midway through wiping away sweat. His usually pale face beams bright red, chest heaving and face comically panicked. The sight sends Harry into yet another fit of laughter.

Louis glares at Harry, eyebrows peaked in faux rage, mouth twitching to trap the smile threatening to escape. Harry saunters over to the boy, wrapping his arms around his lover's small shoulders and putting his hand over Louis', adjusting his grip on the spoon. He reaches across the mess to turn the stove off, then continues to guide Louis in stirring the mixture.

"So," Harry starts. "Wanna tell me what in the Martha-Stewart-Devil-Break-in happened here?"

Louis rolls his eyes, a sharp smile barely peeking out of his complexion. "I wanted to cook for you."

"Louis. Honey. We've talked about this."

"I know, I know, but I wanted to surprise you."

Harry snorts. "You surprised me all right." Louis gulps, flinging the wooden spoon at the larger boy, red liquid spewing everywhere. "Louis- what the hell?!" Harry gasps, picking up the bag of flour and flinging it towards Louis. 

The normally caramel hair on Louis's head now appears to be gray, and his face is coated in the white grainy substance. A fierce breath out of his mouth sends a cloud of flour into the dusty air. He reaches towards an egg carton teetering timidly on the edge of the counter, and, with an egg in each hand, chucks them at Harry. 

Covered in slimy yolks, the boy steps forward with an intimidating grimace, suddenly tightening his arms around Louis, lifting him effortlessly so his limbs fling left and right, dying to be let go of.

"Harry, put me down!" He squeals, falling to the floor when Harry releases his small frame. The boy scrambles back up, lunging at Harry, grunting in rage when Harry holds him back with a simple raise of the arm. When he pulls his arm back quickly, both boys tumble to the ground on top of each other, howling, stomachs aching at the vibrations of triumph. They lay there for a while, soaking in the scents of one another, lost in the pure intimacy of it all.

"Let me help you." Harry mumbles after a bit, rolling over to gaze into Louis's eyes. At that, Louis's eyebrows furrow. Harry grunts, amused. "You're so stubborn."

__________

After school the next day, Harry rushes home (nearly leaving his bag at school), elated with the knowledge that Louis would be at football practice for most of the evening- which meant Harry had plenty of time to plan. Plan what, you ask? You'll find out later. As will Louis. You see, Harry loves surprises, and loves planning them even more- especially for those he loves. So, the second Louis steps out of the shower, smelling like fruity soap, a clean olive shirt pulled over his tight chest, pairing nicely with skinny jeans that always fell down too low in the back, Harry claps his hands over Louis's eyes.