Tattoos Together || Larry Stylinson

Chapter 30

"I think we should all go on vacation together." Gigi announced as she mixed in the egg that Zayn had previously beaten into the dough. The dark-haired lad stood close behind her and held her by the waist. Harry sat on the kitchen counter, crossed his legs and massaged my shoulder while I was about to open a bottle of beer from the crate Niall had bought on the way back. He loved making use of the fact that he was eighteen now.

Except Harry we were all a little drunk and it was undeniable that I was to blame for it, because I had the incredibly good idea to try the rum for baking straight. Harry seemed the most reasonable of us, but not reasonable enough to stop us. It was by far the most disgusting experience I would ever have. In any case, I strongly assumed it would.

"Really, that's a great idea." I answered seriously, forgetting for a moment that there was hardly any time for that.

"I want to go to France." Zayn smiled in love and rested his head on his girlfriend's shoulder.

Niall had taken a teaspoon out of the cutlery drawer unnoticed and sunk it into the dough in an unobserved moment. "I wanna go to Italy, since Lou's told us so much about it."

"You damn little moron." Gigi hissed when she noticed that the boy with the blond hair was fiddling on her dough and finally, with a cheeky grin, pushed a spoonful of it into his mouth.

"Somebody has to try whether it tastes good." Playfully angry, Gigi pinched Niall in the side and would certainly have run after him, had Zayn not held her and nudged the tip of her nose affectionately with a floured index finger.

"Italy sounds good, too." Zayn commented and earned a nod from his girlfriend. I smiled and turned to Harry, who was still sitting on the kitchen counter but hadn't said anything for a long time. I put the bottle down and grabbed his hands, which he kneaded uncertainly.

"Are you alright, Sweetums?" I whispered.

"I think I'll go upstairs and lay down a bit, I'm kind of not that good."

"Fine..." I mumbled, leading his hands, which I was still holding, a little upwards so that I could breathe a gentle kiss on them, which was actually just a soft and barely noticeable brush of my lips on his skin. Then I carefully lifted him down and watched a little worriedly as he left the room.

"Is everything all right with him?" Gigi asked. She was the first to notice that Harry had left the room and looked at me in confusion.

"I ... don't know. He says he's not doing so well, but everything was okay just half an hour ago."

"Maybe we should go, then you can take care of him." Zayn offered and came up to me to put a hand on my shoulder and take a sip from the bottle that I had offered to him.

"Let's finish these cookies first."

-

Before she left the house, Gigi had prepared a small plate with fresh cookies and a glass of warm milk for Harry and then said goodbye. Niall had only left after the couple and hugged me tightly for a particularly long time. As I anticipated, warm tears ran down his cheeks as he pulled away from me. He smiled a pained smile. "Take care, Lewis. We'll see you in the next few days."

"My name's not Lewis, Neil."

"I'm going to miss this."

"I know..."

I closed the door carefully, got what Gigi had prepared from the kitchen and quietly went up the stairs in case Harry was perhaps asleep.

"Hazzie?" I asked, knocking the door.

There was no answer, so I opened the door and found my room in a slightly dimmed light. Harry was huddled on my bed, absorbed in a book. I had never seen him read, nor had I ever seen him pack or unpack a book, which made me wonder where it came from at all.

"Hey little one. The others left. How are you? Better?"

He looked up briefly as if he hadn't noticed me before and then hid his face in my duvet. "Hey." I carefully sat down next to him on the bed and looked at the cover of the book that he had put down.

"Why are you hiding yourself, Bubs?" I asked in a soft, confused voice.

"I'm crying. I promised not to."

"Oh darling." I sighed and read the page of the book that was still open. I recognized it. I read it shortly after my mother died.

"Come on, it's not that bad. Why do you read such a book though? I mean, I'd bawl my eyes out as well."

Without a word I gently pulled the blanket from him and stroked his tear-stained cheek with my thumb. "I don't know." He mumbled. "Maybe I'm a book sadist or something. I love when it hurts." I couldn't suppress a small smile

"Never saw you reading before."

"At night, when you're sleeping and I'm scared you won't wake up again."

I was silent, overwhelmed with finding words, because what had left his mouth hit me deeply. He snuggled up close to me.

"Loubear? I... I wasn't feeling bad. I'm sorry. I lied to you and I can't undo it, even if I really, truly, badly wanted it." He nervously nibbled his fingernail as if he had confessed something earth-shattering to me.

I raised an eyebrow. "I'm not mad or something, but please tell me why, love."

"I'll never go to Italy again, Louis. Not at all without you, because that's what it comes down to."