A Moment of Impact - A Larry Stylinson Story

Prologue

“Life’s, all about moments of impact, and how they change our lives forever.”

17th Of April 2013 -

One, two, or maybe even three hours. Harry had lost count. He became so impatient, sitting in his dark flat that he shared with his mate or whatever they were classified as, doing nothing but taping his feet and biting his nails.

He had seen the pictures, in fact, he couldn’t really avoid them. He was out with her again; arms slung around him like a little puppet and it was sad really, because Louis looked happy. When Harry called Louis, he wouldn’t dare mention her name or that he was even with her, subtly he said, “Haz, I’m just out with friends, no need to worry about me, I’ll be home in an hour, okay?” 

 It wasn’t because Harry hated Eleanor, in fact; he didn’t hate anyone. That was in Harry’s own friendly nature. It was just the pretending he hated, knowing he couldn’t be himself out there, but he wasn’t the only one. Louis had put this act on for almost two years, and he’d promised Harry that it would be over in a short space of two months. Months then turned into two whole years and Harry was beginning to lose all hope.  He tried to do the same as his friend, but things never lasted long. He just didn’t feel… Right.

Gripping his curls so tightly, he ending up twisting them in knots and almost pulling his hair out, Harry gritted his teeth together. He shouldn’t be waiting up this long, for Louis who was probably going to greet him, then head to bed. Fuck it. He was going to bed. And he wasn’t going to speak to Louis in the morning. He frowned to himself. Wait, of course he was, because no matter how hard Harry tried to be mad at him, he just couldn’t. It was the crinkles by his stupid blue eyes. No, no, it was his little belly that always flopped over his tracksuit trousers. Actually, it was his cheeky little smile he’d show ever once in a while towards Harry’s direction. Scrap the whole fucking thing, it was Louis himself.

Subconsciously, Harry lifted his tired body up and sighed, staring into nothing but darkness. He was going to leave a lamp on for Louis so he could at least see where he was going. But once again, Harry stopped in his tracks. No he wasn’t going to turn a light on for him, it would stay off. He probably would be home when the sun decided to rise anyways.

Making his way up the stairs groggily, Harry heard the front lock of the flat rattle. He sighed, stopping in his tracks. 

“Shit,” a mumble came from the other side of the door, “This goddamn fucking lock won’t work.”

In other words, that was Louis’s way of saying; I’m too drunk to even unlock the door.  

But with a few more rattles and shoves, Louis stumbled into the flat, realising it was dark, “Jesus,” he spoke to himself, “Thanks for leaving a light on Harry.”

Harry closed his eyes, should’ve turned the fucking lamp on. 

Suddenly, the lights switched on, making Harry’s eyes almost burn as he’d been sitting up in the dark all night. Louis creased his eyes as he saw his boyfriend standing at the top of the pearl staircase and frowned, “So obviously you heard me come in, didn’t bother to help open the door.” 

Harry sighed, “Didn’t hear you unlocking the door to be honest,” he was in no mood to be putting up with drunken Louis, “I’m going to bed.” 

Before Louis put his hand up in protest to argue, he stopped right away as he noticed the tone in Harry’s voice had differed from when he saw him earlier on in the day. Instantly, and naturally, Louis worried, “Are you okay?” 

“Fine.” 

“Hey, I’ve heard that fine before. Don’t you dare lie to me Styles.” 

Gritting his teeth together, “Look,” he started, “I’m not going to ruin your night out with Eleanor and Stan. So simple as this; forget I saw you walk in and I’ll continue to head off to bed.” 

Louis sighed in frustration, “Oh c’mon Harry, you know I had to do it.” 

Under his breath, hoping for Louis not to hear, he said, “You don’t have to do anything,” which failed to work, because one, Harry was no good whispering and everybody knew that, and two, Louis had good hearing. 

“What was that?” 

Harry rolled his eyes, he wasn’t going to waste his time with this anymore, because he never won, so he turned his back to Louis and fetched for the door handle. 

“Fuck, I know you want to say it, so why haven’t you yet?” Louis let out, quickly reaching his hand over his mouth, realising that yes, he was drunk and yes, he spoke his mind when he was drunk. More than he did when he was sober. 

Harry’s whole body tensed and something in him cracked, whipping his head around to face Louis, “What do you want me to say? Louis, what? What the fuck am I actually meant to say?” he furiously yelled, from up the stairs, “That I’m sick to do death of the way we get treated? Like fucking puppets on a string, and that you go along with it like it’s okay?” 

Running his feminine hands through his sweat blown hair, Louis sighed, “We’re doing this for our protection Harry, so we don’t get completely attacked. I agree, I want us to be safe.” 

Harry scoffed, “Safe? Safe? You actually buy that shit?” he shook his head, “God. They’re sucking you in bit by bit,” and Harry meant the truth when he said that. Because they day that they both agreed to this “protecting the band and the both of you” bullshit, Harry nor Louis wanted to go along with it, “You’ve never agreed to it, so why suddenly do you jump ships? Do you realise, that if we were who we actually were out there, they’d lose money. That’s why they don’t want us to be who we are. And it seems that you’re starting to believe your own fucking lies. That you’re actually in love with her. She has a job too, it’s not like she properly cares about you.” 

With that being said, he hurt Louis’s feelings. More than a little, less than a lot. Their fights had been getting worse and worse by the months, fuelled with tension. And when they blew, they fucking blew, Louis had to give that to them both. They knew how to bite each other’s head off. But it was this in particular argument that was waiting to happen. Louis knew Harry was right, but he wasn’t going to sit there and believe that Harry could actually think he had fallen in love with Eleanor, “You really think that huh?” Louis slammed his hand on the table holding a vase on it, causing the vase to shake, “Then why don’t we forget about us then?” 

Harry rolled his eyes, knowing with every disagreement they had about them Louis always said, “Let’s forget us then,” or, “ We’re over then,” to try and somehow have Harry running towards him. It did work when Harry was young and vulnerable, but now he was older and begun to realise his own tricks, he shrugged it off, “You know what Louis? They’re not protecting us, they’re destroying us. Keep that in mind yeah?” 

Harry didn’t bother waiting for a response; because he knew this time he won and wasn’t going to fight anymore. There was no use. Louis watched his boyfriend gently shut the door behind him, and fell to the couch, forcing his head down to his phone and unlocking it, while seeing the screen before him. His best friend, boyfriend, his everything. Before everything just so easily had to fuck up, before they had secrets. He just wanted to go back to it all; the start. He knew though, that he’d dug himself a hole so deep and he really lost his way up and out of it. Tears prickled at the edge of Louis’s eyes and he leaned his head back on the edge of the couch, taking one deep breath in.

It almost seemed lurching himself into bed was a struggle for Harry; he didn’t even bother removing his clothes from himself as he just felt so shit. He expected all of the procrastination from himself as Louis walked through the door. Drunk or not, Harry didn’t care. If he couldn’t be himself and said what he pleased out in the public eye, then he could around Louis. No, he wasn’t going to lock himself away from everyone.