Polite//l.s

Eight

"Harry," Lou's sweet voice filled my ears, "Harry wake up and get off me, I can't breathe," he giggled.

Immediately, I opened my eyes; I had genuinely believed I was on him, injuring him.

"Lou?" My leg and my arm were the only thing that were on him, his limbs equally entangled with me as I was with him.

"What's wrong?" His voice softened from the joking tone he was using when he was waking me up, noticing my panic.

"I thought I had hurt you," I tried to pull away from him; I wonder why he had been so worried when he asked me.

"Don't you dare," he pulled me back, cuddling back into my chest. "Your so jumpy."

"Just didn't want to be rude," I mumbled, letting him entwine our fingers.

"Do you think your father would approve of what your doing right now?" He asked in a moment of quiet.

"No, absolutely not," I knew that if he ever found out, I wouldn't get the 40 million he had gave my sister and had promised me on my eighteenth birthday.

That was a big deal. He wouldn't revoke that gift for something small.

"Then why do you do it?" He began running his hands through my hair. Do I even know this boy's last name? His age?

"Because I like it," I shrugged, nearly apologizing for the rudeness of my reply; only being cut off by Louis' laughter.

"I like it too," he laughed, closing his eyes.

He fell silent for a moment and I had thought he had fallen back asleep; his breathing was slow and smooth, his facial features relaxed.

That is until his eyes shot open, "Harry!" He shouted, gripping onto my biceps.

His urgency frightening me, causing me to jump nearly off the bed.

"What?!" I asked, still hanging slightly off the bed in shock.

"How did you get into the apartment?" He spoke, far more calm than I.

"Zayn gave me his key on his way out," I pressed a hand to his forearm to ease it off my upper arm. "Key's on the counter,"

"Oh," he closed his eyes again, laying his head down on the pillow this time instead of my shoulder.

"Do you want something to eat?" I stood from the edge of the bed, taking advantage of Louis' isolation to stretch for a moment.

"Make some toast and tea if you would," he waved me off, wrapping the blankets around him tighter.

I groaned internally at that. I haven't a clue how to cook.

I wanted to wake him, ask him if there was anything else he wanted that didn't require skill of any form; but he looks so small when he sleeps. It's an image I want to capture in my mind and keep with me for the rest of my days.

Wandering into the kitchen, I didn't really know what to make of most of the appliances in here.

I identified the refrigerator. That's it. Even with that, I had a difficult time. Louis' refrigerator was a far older model than mine, his had a small freezer at the top and a very large portion at the bottom which I could only assume to be the fridge part. I haven't actually checked yet, I'm a bit afraid of what I might find.

Upon searching the rest of the kitchen, and poking several appliances to see if they would burn me, I was about to give up.

I leaned against the counter, pulling my boxers up my hips a little. As I ran a hand down my face in a last-ditch-effort to find some inspiration, the door opened and several people came bustling in. All of them women or girls, all stopping in the living room when they saw me.

"Uh, hello," I waved, trying to contain my embarrassment from my indecency.

"Is Louis here?" The eldest looking asked instead of greeted.

"Yes," I took a few steps towards them, "He's asleep still, I think,"

"Do you wanna make him some tea then?" The group walked into the kitchen, "that helps wake him up."

This time I couldn't suppress the blush that covered my face. I wouldn't be surprised if it went all the way down my chest. "I-I don't know how; I wanted to make him dinner, as not to be rude, but I haven't a clue how to cook,"

"That's fine, we'll all have to work together," she smiled, opening cupboards.

Who is this? I wanted to ask, but I didn't want to seem ungrateful.

Minutes later of preparing food and the girls eventually just ejecting me from the kitchen, a small meal was prepared for the sleeping boy.

"We're going to give it to him," she held up a plastic tray. It looked like the cheaper version of the silver breakfast trays they have at my house, "Do you want to come with,"

"Oh no," I sat down on Louis' couch, "I couldn't take credit for the meal if I didn't partake in the preparation. You go ahead, I'll wait out here for you guys."

"Come on," one of the younger girls grabbed my wrist, pulling me down the hallway, "I didn't understand a word of what you said so shutup," The girls didn't seem fazed by my nakedness at all. It made me sadder than it should that perhaps they're used to seeing men like this at Lou's place.

"What's your name, by the way?" The eldest asked right before we entered Louis' room. She knew exactly where it was.

"Harry Styles, ma'am," I held my hand out to shake.

"Styles, like the company?" She ignored my gesture entirely, not even acknowledging it was there.

"Yes, that's my father's company," I smiled the business smile my father had showed me. The smile that sells.

"Oh. I'm Louis' mother," she finally held her handout for me to shake; I accepted her invitation, hearing the girls in the background waking up Louis.

"Nice to meet you," I respectfully nodded my head.

I glanced past her as she turned around to join the girls. It was quite the sight.

Louis was sat under the covers still, leaning against the headboard with the girls surrounding him. They were all smiles and happy as they all shared the breakfast the family had made.

It made me feel strange to see how close they were as a family.

It was a different type of closeness. A more intimate type of closeness. It made me feel envious of it, knowing that my family mostly just sits in silence as my father talks on the phone.

Sparing a look up to the clock, I remembered I needed to meet my driver soon.

I wanted to say goodbye to Louis, make plans to see him again; but he was enjoying himself. He was spending time with his family.

I wanted to hold him in my arms one last time before I left; but to interrupt wouldn't be very polite.