Larry Stylinson ~ Poor Little Rich Boy AU

6.

Chapter Six:

He was scared that he was losing himself, but at the same time, it seemed like the best thing that had ever happened to him. Weirdly, for those few minutes he’d spent teasing Louis – teasing! – he’d felt like someone else. As if he’d stepped out of his own nervous, introverted self for a moment and become someone new; someone who could take banter and give it back as easily as blinking; someone who wasn’t shy or scared and didn’t get knots in the pit of his stomach when he spoke to people he didn’t know; someone who wasn’t afraid to admit that maybe he liked boys in the way he was supposed to like girls, who had admitted it to himself and boldly decided it didn’t matter. Someone who met a guy on holiday and was so, so tempted to hook up with him even though he didn’t do that sort of thing; he didn’t speak to strangers; he didn’t fancy guys he barely knew…that wasn’t Harry Styles. At least, certainly not the Harry Styles that he knew himself to be.

Maybe this was a better Harry Styles. It frightened him, though; he’d come on the family holiday to do all the usual things – listen to music, think, shun the company of everyone who wasn’t a member of his own family, and walk quietly on the beach. Self-reinvention hadn’t exactly been on his list of planned holiday activities.

All these somewhat worrying thoughts chased mercilessly through his brain as he watched Louis cross the lobby from his secluded spot behind a rather ugly potted plant, peeping through the leaves and watching the older boy cheerfully wander through the room like he owned it. He waved coyly at the receptionist, Iris, awarded a winning smile to a gaggle of giggling girls squashed up on the sofa, and then flicked his hair out of his eyes and sashayed into the lift with one hand hanging neatly by his side and the other running sexily through his fringe, looking for all the world like a celebrity on the red carpet.

A soft snort from beside him made Harry jump, and he turned in surprise to find that someone had come and sat on the chair next to him, leaving a couple of inches between them because he knew Harry liked his personal space, and was lounging on the seat with ease. He nodded, more than most people could expect from him, but made no other attempt to greet the newcomer.

Liam had been working as a hotel bell boy since he was sixteen, and he and Harry had become sort of friends ever since running into each other on the beach one evening a couple of summers back – quite literally. An avid runner, Liam had been sprinting down the sands in one direction, while Harry shuffled forwards with his eyes glued to the floor in the opposite direction, headphones turned up full blast so that there was no way he could have heard Liam coming. As was unavoidable, Liam had collided with him, knocking him right over, and the two of them ended up flat on their backs on the floor, groaning, each with a rather nasty headache as their heads had banged together. Liam been full of apologies, but somehow, Harry had found the situation funny. He was so surprised at being knocked flying by a total stranger that he couldn’t help but laugh – from that moment onwards, Liam had been Harry’s friend, in a way.

They had struck up some form of acquaintance that took the form of a mutual silence more than anything else. Harry wasn’t usually the chatty type and Liam often had a lot of work to do, but they would not and sometimes exchange smiles in the corridors, and every now and then Harry would come and help Liam carry suitcases around, just for something to do. It was the closest thing to a real friendship he’d ever had. Apart from Louis, that was. And he felt so much more comfortable with Liam, mainly because he didn’t fancy him, but also because Liam knew Harry’s boundaries and was careful to keep them in place, whereas Louis seemed to almost derive pleasure in overriding them.

“He really is something, isn’t he?” Liam remarked in a low voice, nodding at where Louis had been mere moments ago, where Harry’s eyes still lingered. His employees’ badge had gone askew, and Harry felt an odd urge to straighten it. “You’d have thought he was the next Madonna, the way he walks. Like he’s wearing high heels!” Clearly, Liam itched to imitate Louis’ walk, which even Harry had to admit was quite funny. Liam wasn’t being unkind; he was simply making an observation, and a witty one at that. Allowing a wry smile to show that he was amused, Harry nodded in agreement before Liam spoke again.