Until You Know

Chapter Two

three days later

Harry sat in his bed and stared at his laptop screen. He was home alone, for the third night in a row. He sighed and took a swig of beer, then opened a new tab. His hands froze over the keyboard-- this was a bad idea, and he knew it-- but then he brushed his hesitation aside. He typed "Louis Tomlinson" into the search bar.

And there he was.

Thousands of images glowed before Harry's eyes. Pictures of Louis, from when he was a baby, all the way up until yesterday. Harry went to take another sip from the bottle, but found that only a drop remained.

He slid his computer off his lap and got out of bed. Instantly he felt dizzy. For a few seconds he couldn't see.

"Shit."

He stumbled out of his bedroom and into the hallway, his shoulder hitting the wall. He reached the kitchen and leaned on the counter until his vision returned. Then he went to the fridge for another beer, knocked it on the side of the counter to pop the cap off, and then shuffled back to bed.

This was his routine; aside from trips to the bathroom, Harry had done little else. He settled back into his pillows and took a swig from the bottle as he returned to browsing.

Louis. Louis. He scrolled down and came across a topless picture.

Louis. As Harry shifted to get comfortable, his laptop grazed him in a sensitive place and he let out a soft gasp. His boxers got tight and Harry stopped moving. He was hard. He gulped. Scrolling back up, Harry clicked on a picture of Louis. He was wearing a light brown trench coat and was looking over one shoulder, making the outline of his cheek bone stand out in sharp relief. He had stubble over his lip and across his chin. His eyes were alluring and his hair looked soft. Harry enlarged the picture and slid his right hand under the covers.

Was he really going to do this?

Yes. He was drunk, he was hard, and Louis was staring him in the face. He pushed his hand past the waistband of his boxers and sighed in relief as he took hold of his hard-on. He groaned.

"Loouu-iiis."

Then his phone went off. He nearly fell out of bed. The ringing was brutally loud as he snatched it up and saw that Zayn was calling.

"What do you want?!"

"Harry?"

"Yes?!"

"It's Zayn."

"I know that!! What. Do. You. WANT!?"

"Whoa-- cool off mate, I was just calling to check on you! None of us have heard from you at all. Everything alright?"

"It was..." Harry replied coolly.

"What?"

"Nothing." He snapped. "So you wanted to check I was still breathing?"

"Yeah--"

"Well I am. Is that all?" There was silence on the other end. "I said, is that all??"

"I guess so..." Zayn finally answered, "We've just been worried about you, Harry... I'm glad you're ok." Harry could hear the hurt and worry in his friend's voice, and felt a surge of guilt. Zayn was concerned, and Harry had snapped at him.

"Bye, Haz."

"Wait-- Zayn?" He spluttered.

"Yeah?" Zayn's voice was quiet and cautious, making Harry feel even worse.

"I'm sorry," And then, without pausing to think, he added: "D'ya wanna come over or something?"

"Sure!" Zayn said enthusiastically. "I'll be there in five!" And hung up.