Stuck with Lou ✔️

Chapter 2

Harry flinched, the minute his hand connected with his arm. After a second, he settled, slowly turning his body towards Louis. He watched, breath bated, as Harry curled in on himself again. 

So that happened.

Harry currently had his head buried in between his shoulder and his neck,  the tears gently soaking his skin. 

So, apparently, he had his mortal enemy sobbing into his shoulder.

Fabulous.

After a few minutes, Harry's breath was slightly more normal, and there was less tears, so Louis assumed he was a bit better.

"You ok now?"

Harry didn't answer, instead opting to move slightly closer to him.

Great. Now his mortal enemy was practically sitting on his lap. 

Fun.

After a few minutes of silence, the only noises being Harry crying, Harry had somehow managed to move even closer, so he was sitting in Louis lap.

So, quite literally, the person he hates most in the world is sitting on his lap. 

Fuck.

"Uhh- Harry?" He tried not to sound too terrified, as, well, dignity. 

"W-what?" He sounded choked up, tears blocking his voice.

"Why-" for some reason, Louis felt nervous about asking this. Strange. "Why are you sitting in my lap?"

"Uh-" Harry paused, as if he only just realised that he was, in fact, sitting in Louis' lap. "I- don't know- sorry- I'll- uh- I'll get up-"

The boy moved, intending to move off of him, for some reason (Louis'll blame Harry- or, like, hormones or whatever.), unknown to both- Louis tightened his grip on the boy's hips, preventing him from moving.

"I didn't mean it like that. I was just-" asking? Wait- hold up- why did he prevent Harry from moving? What the fuck? Why? This is his mortal enemy they aren't friends- or anything that represents people who actually like each other. They literally despised each other. So why in the fucking fuckity fuck did he do that? Why didn't he want Harry to move?? Is he that touch starved? Is he so touched starved he's willing to- like- cuddle Harry? He's not even gay! He doesn't like men. So, Louis has concluded two things: 1. he's just touch starved. And; 2. He feels bad for Harry, meaning he's just letting the guy sit there. "Asking- why you were sitting there-" It sounded pathetic, even to him. So, desperately, he tried to salvage it- and simultaneously justify his actions. "I- kinda thought that you didn't want to- to move- so, I thought I'd let you stay..."

Harry nodded, lifting his gaze to meet his eyes- Harry's eyes were bloodshot, his lashes clumped together with tears- the tears accentuated the emerald of his eyes- leaving them sparkling- and, ok. Apparently, Harry had very pretty eyes.

So there was that. 

They were pretty in a way that, was, well- strange. As they were (currently) puffy and bloodshot and just looked- well, obviously, like he'd been crying. But the colour- they were so bright-

And why was he thinking this?

Shit- maybe he was gay... There was tha- no. No thinking of that.

Harry was staring at him confusedly, like he had no idea what the fuck was happening.

Louis guessed he probably wore a similar expression.

Louis also realised that the dynamic between the two had changed drastically. The air fizzed with a type of electricity, crackled with some sort of tension.

And Harry was staring at him, eyes flickering between his eyes and his lips.

Eyes and Lips

Eyes and Lips.

His eyes lingered on his lips at one point, when Louis darted his tongue across his bottom one, wetting it.

And then- Harry was leaning forward. Capturing him in-

Fuck- he was kissing Harry. 

And- it was... Ok? Pleasant? He didn't know-

And- he wasn't pushing him away, quite the opposite, really.

He was pulling the boy closer, so that they were pressed flush against each other. 

Harry's plump pink lips moved against his own desperately, like he was drowning and Louis was his raft, keeping him grounded. 

The kiss slowly but surely turned desperate, passioned. So, what once was an innocent kiss, turned into a bordering not innocent kiss, eventually turned into a passionate snog- which, judging by the fact he could sense Harry craved more, would turn into something absolutely filthy.

And he was ok with that.

Apparently, Louis was completely ok with the fact that he was sitting, in a closet, snogging the face off of his mortal enemy. Who happened to be male, but that information seemed insignificant at the present moment and time. 

Something seemed to register in his hazy, fuzzy, lust-filled brain. 

He was snogging Harry Styles.

HE was SNOGGING Harry Styles 

HE was Snogging HARRY STYLES

HE WAS SNOGGING HARRY STYLES

He was snogging Harry Styles 

He was snogging Harry Styles 

He was snogging Harry Styles 

This was actually happening.

Jesus fucking Christ fucking sky daddy FUCKING HELL.

As quickly as he settled into it- jesus Christ- it shattered- whatever the fuck was happening, the moment shattered, and he immediately pulled away. 

Harry started, staring at him- blinking. It seemed that exactly what was happening, happened, still happening- hadn't actually sunken in with him yet.

Harry still hadn't comprehended what had happened.

Shit.

"Wh-why? Why did you- kiss me...?"

"I- don't know..."

Harry was staring at him. It was obvious that he'd just processed what happened. 

They'd actually kissed.

Made out.

Snogged.

Any other word to describe 'exchanging saliva'- wait- no- that's gross.

"I- I'm sorry- I don't- I-" Harry was stuttering, trying to order his thoughts to form a coherent sentence. It wasn't working, obviously, as Louis was still staring at the boy- who was still stuttering.

"Harry- stop talking."

He didn't know what the fuck had happened- or why the fuck he enjoyed it.

Or why the fuck if it were to happen again- he wouldn't mind. 

Wait-

He enjoyed it. 

He- enjoyed it.

What the fuck was happening?! 

Closets do strange things to people.

***

It was about five minutes later, they'd been staring at each other dumbly, both lost in their own thoughts.

The air still crackled with that tension, if anything, it was worse. After they kissed, the sexual tension grew.

It was only a matter of time before something real happened.