Larry Stylinson - Turning From Praise (AU)

15.

That night, he slept at Harry’s, deciding that if he was going to reveal everything to his mother then he might as well make a point – he left his phone on for the first couple of hours, simply choosing to ignore it, then switched it off when the stream of calls and texts persisted. He hoped that by staying away, he would worry her, that perhaps her anxiety would soften her animosity towards him when he explained the whole situation with Harry. Not that he had any further ideas on how exactly he was going to do that – he didn’t think walking up to her and promptly announcing “I’m gay” would be the best course of action. Similarly, allowing her to catch him and Harry in the throes of passion on her sofa wouldn’t be the best way of introducing her to the idea that he wasn’t the ruler-straight son she’d always believed he was.

Weirdly, out of the two of them, it was Harry who seemed most reluctant to confront Louis’ family and explain what was going on. Louis had finally accepted that it wasn’t going to end well whichever way it went; either he’d lose his family through no fault of his own other than their ignorance, or he’d lose Harry for the exact same reason. Harry, however, still seemed to be battling with himself and with Louis to try and find a peaceful resolution, doggedly determined that there would be a way to talk Jay round. It was a sweet gesture, and Louis appreciated it, but he knew that for whatever reason, Harry was just prolonging the inevitable. 

He was probably doing it just to try and protect Louis, but honestly, Louis was a little tired of being protected.

Still, as they stood hand in hand on his doorstep the next morning, he couldn’t help but have a nervous knot twisting in his stomach like a convoluted tree root, wrapping itself around his vital organs, crushing him from the inside out. Trying to soften the blow, Harry had offered to dress down, maybe wear a little less eyeliner, but Louis had obstinately fished out some of the most outrageous clothes he could find in Harry’s wardrobe – black leather jacket with little spikes on the shoulders, dripping with silver chains; black tank top; black skinny jeans; black boots, and as many bracelets as he could slide onto Harry’s wrists for him, where they overlapped each other and clinked gently every time he moved – he appreciated that his mother would probably be a little less furious if she saw Harry looking more ‘normal’, but he didn’t care about that. Normal wasn’t Harry, and he didn’t want his boyfriend to have to pretend to be something he wasn’t just to please his parents. That was what Louis had been doing for weeks, and he knew how it ate away at you like the mouths of a thousand hungry parasites, from the inside as well as out. And he was confident that it had been the best decision when, in his usual clothes, with his fierce punk exterior intact and therefore his confidence bolstered, Harry appeared completely composed, though he was poking at his lip ring with the tip of his tongue, a sure sign that he was nervous.

Somehow, this made Louis feel a lot calmer, knowing that Harry was by no means invulnerable, and knowing that this time he had someone to protect other than himself – he’d cowered from his mother when she’d shrieked at him and hurled abuse down upon him when he was scared and the only recipient of her anger was him, but he wouldn’t let her touch Harry. He was so much stronger when he had someone to be strong for. 

He took a deep breath and then lifted his hand, fingers curled into a loose fist, to knock on the door, but before his knuckles could so much as graze the surface of the front door, Harry caught hold of his wrist, stopping him in his tracks.

They exchanged glances, Harry’s worried and tense, Louis’ confident and certain. They’d gotten to the stage now where they could converse with mere looks, touches, soft little sounds in the back of their throats, sort of like their own secret language. They hadn’t ever agreed on it, exactly, but somehow it had crept up on them, this mutual understanding so strong that Louis could simply twitch the corner of his mouth into a smile, and give a tiny nod that Harry understood perfectly as a promise that Louis was sure about this, that he believed it was all going to work out fine.