Larry Stylinson One Shot Collection.

Foot Skills and Vocals.

Author: ListenToTheInk on A03

Honestly I have loved every single freeking One shot and story she has written. 

They met in an elevator. Like a scene straight out of a cheesy romantic comedy (the type of film that Harry loves, and Louis likes because they make Harry smile and he likes Harry's smile). Harry was nineteen, and a musician. Louis was twenty-one and a footballer for the Doncaster Rhinos. He was a fan of Harry, and Harry was a fan of him. They exchanged numbers as they walked down the hall, and went off into separate press rooms. Louis had an interview for the next edition of Sports Illustrated (an American magazine, and he couldn't believe it. He was going to be on the cover of an American magazine), and Harry had an interview for Rolling Stone. It was sheer coincidence that the interviews happened to be in the same building, and Louis was forever greatful for it.

After their respective interviews, Harry sent Louis a text, asking if he wanted to meet up for coffee and (And Louis had replied with a "make it tea, and I'll be there. Smooth, Tomlinson, smooth.) they had gone out for tea. They fell into an easy friendship after that. So easy, in fact, Louis had wondered if he knew Harry in a past life. They liked the same things, and if they didn't, they always suggested something to the other. For example, Louis liked the Fray, not the Ramones. Harry liked the Ramones, not the Fray. So they swapped iPods, ensuring that they would see each other again, and they both started to like each other's music. And Harry would often show up at Louis' flat in North London at all hours, just to tell him about a song, so Louis gave him a key.

Harry's clothes began to show up at his flat in about three month's time, after Louis had given him a key. He didn't even realize it, not until he was out doing laundry, and he found a shirt that was too big to be his and had the Ramones' logo on the front. He just smiled and shook his head before tossing the shirt in with his clothes. He brought it up the next time Harry was at his flat, and Harry just shrugged, muttering something about practically living there anyway. Louis had made a remark about helping with the rent and groceries, then. And the next morning, Harry was at his door with six boxes and moving into the guest room while Louis' best friend Zayn just shook his head and said "Well, it was only a matter of time."

Then things started to move quicker, and things began to change.

It started the morning after Harry moved in, and Louis woke up from a nice night of sleeping. Harry was awake, in the kitchen, only dressed in black boxer-briefs and cooking egg on toast. It wasn't the first time it had happened, but this time it felt more domestic to Louis, and he had folded his arms over his chest, leaning against the doorframe with a smile as Harry hummed to himself and cooked.

"I know you're standing right there, LouLou." he had said, keeping his back turned. "See something you like?"

Louis' face had flushed, and he shook his head, padding across the tiled floor to the table as Harry set the plates down.

And things started to become routine.

Harry would always wake before Louis, whether they slept in the same bed that night or not (which was completely nice for Louis. He liked having the younger boy snuggled into his side, probably more than he should have. And he liked the smell of Harry's curls, probably more than he should have. And he liked the way Harry looked when he was sleeping, probably more than he should have. And he liked the sound of Harry's breath, probably more than he should have). And Louis would wake up when breakfast was almost done. They would eat together, then on days when Louis didn't have a game, practice or both, and Harry didn't have an interview, rehearsal or both, they would cuddle on the couch and watch stupid romcoms that Harry loved. Louis would pull a face at all of parts that he thought were absolutely sickening, and Harry would cry and wipe his eyes (even though he would never admit it to a soul, not even Louis). Or they would go out to the shops, only to be hounded by photographers asking about their friendship.

Whish was what they were. Friends.

Even if Louis wanted Harry worse than he had ever wanted a person in his entire life.

But they were friends. And he was happy with that. He was happy that he had Harry because if he hadn't had Harry, he would have gone absolutely mental. So yeah, for now he was happy. Even if he was completely, irrevocably, in love with him (and god he sounded like a Twilight book. But who was he kidding. The forbidden love kind of thing was his life story. So, yeah. He was Bella Swan. Just not an idiot, with more realistic problems, a male, and a footballer).

But then the travelling began.

Harry had met Louis when he was on break from recording and tour, and Louis was on break from soccer. Even if they had still had rehearsals and practice, and the occasional gig or game... they were still on a break, and mostly free. Harry had come home one afternoon after a meeting, announcing a world tour, and Louis had announced a month long tournament in Puerto Rico. And then they looked at each other for a long while before stepping into their respective rooms and having a cry without the other's knowledge. Then they returned to the living room, and entertained the idea of a party for their last night together.

And a party it was. Everyone who was anyone was invited, and they all drank copious amounts of alcohol, and most everyone ended up passed out somewhere on their floor. As for Harry and Louis... One kiss turned into two, and two to three, and that led to both of them waking up naked in Louis' bed the next morning with pain in their bums and slight, nervous smiles. Whispering the question "Where do we go from here?"

Louis had taken Harry's hand in his and just smiled. He knew they could make it if they tried.

They came out right away, once they were sure that they were willing to try and work it out. They both knew how difficult it was going to be, and how much more media attention they were going to get. But since people had already had suspicions, they weren't as surprised as they could have been. But it wasn't easy. It wasn't easy at all, because as soon as they came out, Harry's managers began to make their relationship out to be a joke. They tweeted from his account, and every morning there was a new picture of Harry with a girl he had "slept with" the night before. But Louis put enough faith and trust in him, and they talked to each other nearly every day. And they constantly thought about each other because they were asked in interviews.

"So, you've got a special someone" was how they always stared. And Harry and Louis would just smile and nod quietly. Then the questions would become different for each.

"What's it like dating a footballer, Harry?" was always asked. And Harry's response was always the same. "I should be better at soccer."

"What's it like dating Harry Styles?" was another that was always asked. And Louis' response was always a variation of "He can't play football to save his life, but he cooks me breakfast and can sing like an angel. So, I love him anyway."

He returned to a text that said "I love you too, Boo. Even though that was such an unorthodox way of telling someone you love them. xx."

And then the questions shifted to them being far away from each other. And yeah, it was hard. Yeah, they missed each other. But they each had a count down for when they were going to see each other, and they texted and talked and tweeted each other daily. It was only a matter of time.

@Louis_Tomlinson: I miss you @Harry_Styles. I wish you were here, love.

@Harry_Styles: I wish I was there too, Boo. @Louis_Tomlinson. Come home soon so I can cuddle the shit out of you.

@Louis_Tomlinson: Good luck at your concert tonight, @Harry_Styles. I'll be singing from the feild.

@Harry_Styles: I'll be playing all the way home to you. Love you @Louis_Tomlinson xx.

And it wasn't easy. It was hard. So fucking hard. But Louis wouldn't have it any other way. He would take his routine and his soccer and his cheerleader who sang him to sleep. He would take the concerts and the twenty thousand plus singing along as he stood in the crowd and Harry gave his all. He would take the Ramones shirts and the boxers on the floor and the romcoms that Harry force him to watch. He would take it all, and never change any of it. Because he was happy, and he was finally in a place where everything made sense, no matter how crazy their lives actually were.