A Sick Ecstasy - A Larry Stylinson Fic

Chapter One - Mustard

It had been two months. Two whole months since Louis started seeing that stupid Adamand Harry was losing hope. Harry wasn’t going to lie, he was shocked that Louis had managed to pull himself together and actually stick to one guy for this long. He was equally shocked, even proud, that he’d managed to avoid being alone in Adam’s company the whole duration of the two months. But that didn’t stop Louis rambling about him, on the rare occasion that he was actually home, of course: Adam had made it clear that he was welcome at his house whenever he liked, and Louis had taken advantage of this, practically living at his boyfriend’s home, leaving Harry alone, unless he invited Niall or Liam, or Nick over to keep him company.

It had started like any other one of Louis’ multiple one night stands; they’d burst in through the door, going into the living room, Harry, expecting this, had been in his room, music playing quietly from his laptop. It’ll all be over by tomorrow, Harry had told himself, a mantra in his head. He shut his laptop and plugged his headphones into his iPod, letting Ed Sheeran’s soft voice wash over him and lull him to a somewhat peaceful sleep…

He’d woken up the next morning with a headache, so, as anyone would do, he padded downstairs into the kitchen for some paracetamol and water, to find an unknown man, standing at the stove, obviously making breakfast, for a very flustered Louis, sitting at the dining table, hair extremely untidy, his face flushed, lips swollen. A thousand explicit images swam through Harry’s mind and his eyes widened

“Er, hi,” Harry stuttered.

“Harold!” Louis smiled, eyes bright. “Harry, this is Adam, we met yesterday at Envy; Adam, Harry, my best mate,” Louis waved his hand towards Harry.

The guy at the stove, Adam, nodded curtly at Harry, with a smile that showed too many of his crooked teeth, bleach blonde hair falling into his brown eyes. “You alright, mate?” he’d asked Harry, expertly flipping the frying pan, so whatever he was cooking, pancakes, honestly, turned right over in the air and landed in the pan with a sizzle.

Harry hated him already, his blood boiling at Adam’s words. Who the fuck did he think he was, coming into his flat – sure, it was Louis’ flat as well, but that was beside the point – and strutting around in the kitchen as if he owned the place?

But Louis looked happy, and Harry wasn’t going to ruin things for him. “Pretty good, thanks, bit of a headache though.”

“Do you want something for the pain?” Adam asked, opening the cutlery drawer, for god’s sake.

Harry ignored him.

“Are you okay?” asked Louis absentmindedly, as he pored over a magazine page.

“Yeah, m’fine, just gonna get some paracetamol and then I’m going out with Niall and Liam,” Harry muttered, as he strode over to the medicine cabinet and made a scene of opening it; he could get his own medicine, thank you very much.

Swallowing the tablets and gulping back cold water, he’d slammed the glass down with more force than necessary, and it was surprising that the glass didn’t smash.

“See you later, Lou,” he’d said, without so much as a word or a glance at Adam, and left the kitchen.

*

Harry had just finished a long shift at the local bakery, a part time job he’d picked up to pay for university, and he was shattered, just wanting to get home and sleep. But that dick Adam would be in his house again, he’d hardly left there since he and Louis first met. So when Harry got home and there was another man on the sofa, he couldn’t pretend he wasn’t surprised.