Finding Louis {l.s}

8

Louis:

I wake up to his arms wrapped around me. My eyes nearly bulge out of my head. He's shirtless and to my utter embarrassment, I want to touch every tattoo lining his skin. I want to do so much more than that. I squeeze my eyes shut and move to get away from him, hoping we can put that night behind us.

Harry hums and pulls me closer, his voice a husky smoky velveteen dream as he whispers, "Lou... Stay..."

"I- I- I'll go. Fuck. I'll go."

"...huh?"

"I'm sorry. About last night. I have been nothing but a problem since I fucking got here. I keep... I keep fucking things up. I'm such a fuck-up, I'm always such a fuck-up- I never meant for any of this. I'll leave. I'll find a way."

"Your car-"

"I'll walk! Yeah! I'll walk! You can take your clothes and I'll J-just-" I reach for his shirt, pulling it off my body. He stares in silent response, his eyes trailing down to my navel before he raises his gaze back to my eyes. I flush, ashamed of my shape and body hair. He looks perfect. I'm a pudge. My lips tremble as I crash quietly to the ground, tired of trying not to cry.

I want to blame the alcohol but I've woken up with a hangover, yet all I can think about is how I deserve even worse pain. I left the only person who has ever and could ever love me because I was scared of him. And now, even when I know I'm not cut out for romance, I let yesterday happen. I didn't stop it for a moment. My heart didn't dare let me but in the light of dawn my brain is taking back control, reminding me of how foolish I've been.

"Lou..."

"Harry, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to come into your life and disrupt things. Your friends must hate me. You should, too, you have every right. I'll get out of your hair-" Harry takes hold of both my wrists, letting out a sigh. My heart is crushed in my chest. They were right. Having Harry be disappointed in me feels like death. I try to wrench free so I can lock myself away in the bathroom but before I can, he tugs me close and with a sudden "oompf", I'm thrown into his chest. "Harry... Why are you doing this to me?"

"Cos I care about you, dolt."

"You... don't hate me. Even after yesterday." I want confirmation but even when he nods with a blinding grin, I still don't understand. He must sense my bewilderment because he answers my question.

"No. Course not."

"You should."

"Why?"

"Because I deserve it. I don't do enough. I never do enough. All I do is make mistakes. You should hate me."

"Well... I can't. And I won't. Please stop saying these things. And thinking them. Yesterday was not a mistake. I know what it's like to feel you don't deserve good things but don't believe that voice. If others deserve good things, so do you. Especially you."

"Yeah...?"

"Yeah! You're... I mean, you're Louis. You like dressing hyper-casually literally everywhere and yoghurt and my cooking. You laugh really loud and you've got a really fiesty side to ya. You're really funny. And you think my jokes are shit but you smile at every last one which means you think they are the shit. And you do things too, dummy."

"Really? Like what?"

"Smile at me, for one." I laugh and he beams at me, squeezing my hands in his excitedly as he jumps up from the floor. "See? I've got enough energy from that beam of sunshine alone to take on ten men! No, a hundred! No-"

"You're not taking on any men unless that man is me." With that, I tackle him into his mattress, sighing after we've both stopped laughing. "This... Isn't real is it?"