Friends With Benefits (Harry Styles imagine)

You shouldn't have driven here, outside of your best friend's apartment. You shouldn't have climbed the three flights of stairs and walked halfway down the hall. You definitely shouldn't be knocking on his front door, hoping he's home to temporarily put you back together.

This is wrong, you know it is. But this was bound to happen. You always come to Harry, seeking the love and attention you've been deprived of.

This is a regular thing, it's normal for the both of you. To everyone else, the connection you have with Harry seems cruel and one-sided. That's why when the door swings open and blue eyes cut into slits at the sight of you, you drop your eyes and look down at your clammy hands.

"What?" Louis asks, tone cross as he keeps the door cracked. You keep your eyes low and chew on your bottom lip.

"You know why I'm here." Your voice is broken, tears still in your eyes, accompanying the sobs caught in your throat.

"I do." Lou says.

You sigh and take a deep breath.

"I'm not as bad as you seem to think I am, Louis." You say, staring down at your thumbs hoping he doesn't retaliate with his usual scoff and roll of the eyes.

Instead, he exhales in a huff.

"Why do you do this?" He questions, a hint of pleading in his inquiry.

"I need him..." You whisper, feeling the guilt and selfishness curl around each word.

"But you've got a boyfriend." He tries reasoning with you. "You know he can't date anyone because he waits around for the next time he'll have to take care of you, right? Why not just leave your cunt of a boyfriend and be with Harry?"

You feel the air whisp around you as Louis throws his hands up, frustrated with the situation. His anger can only grow with your response.

"I need him, too. I love him and I can't leave." You explain, every bit ridden with tragic truth. Without seeing Louis' face, you can hear the disapproval swimming around in his mind and it adds to the ache in your torso; the edges of the hole widening and stinging as you wrap your arms around yourself, a feeble attempt at keeping yourself whole.

"Please," you whisper, properly holding Louis' cold, cobalt gaze for the first time since he's opened Harry's door, "just let me in. Please."

He stares into your hollowed eyes for a long moment, an exasperated sigh heaving in his chest, but steps aside to let you into Harry's apartment.

"I know he'll hate me if I refuse you." He says, shaking his head. "He's sleeping on the couch in the living room, I'm leaving." Louis grabs his keys from the breakfast bar, then he's gone.

You drop your bag and jacket on the floor and head towards the living room, finding a comatose Harry sprawled out on his sofa. Just the sight of him reels in the pain of what's happened earlier, but not enough to numb it.

Kneeling down, you push his brunette curls from his face, scratching his scalp as you go. A contented sigh blows through his nose, causing you to smile at his peaceful state.

"Harry..." You whisper, leaning in to place a kiss on his cheek. He stirs a bit but his eyes stay closed. You press your lips to his and run your nose along his chin.

"Harry, wake up." You breathe. His eyes flutter as an agitated groan sounds in his throat.

"Fuck off, Lou!" Harry all but yells, batting you away. "We can finish the movie later, I'm tired."

"I'm not Louis, silly." You say, poking his nose so that he opens his eyes fully, smiling wide once he realizes who's woken him.

"Hey, love!" He half yawns, stretching like a massive cat. He sits up, shaking his hair around, then looks at you. Really looks at you.