There's More to the Picture Than Meets the Eye (Larry Stylinson AU)

Chapter Seven

Happy Reading!

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CHAPTER SEVEN

For the following week, Harry continues to stop by at Louis' work, and Louis continues to pick Harry up at the end of his shift. For the first couple of days, they simply returned to their own flats. But one thing led to another and Harry ended up at Louis' or Louis ended up at Harry's. At the moment, it is ten o'clock on a Friday night and Louis has yet to return home.

"The thing I don't understand, is that that piece of wood she was floating on was massive. Why didn't she let Jack on?"

"Because, Louis, Jack's weight made it tip. He decided to tread water instead to let Rose stay on it."

"But then he died," Louis protests.

"Because he loved her!"

Louis laughs at Harry's passion for what he considers a cruelly romanticized tragic event in history. Harry, however, thinks its one of the greatest films of all time. So they watched it.

"So did you like it?" Harry asks, a look on his face that makes it look as if he really cares whether Louis enjoyed the film or not.

"Yeah," Louis says. "It was sad, though." Maybe it's not his favorite film, but with Harry snuggling up against him the entire time, it definitely wasn't bad. Before anyone can get another word out, Louis yawns, stretching his arms forward. "I'm tired," he says. He turns to Harry, who has the same fond face on that he wore when they fell asleep together the first time he came to Harry's flat.

"God, you're so cute when you yawn," he says.

"It's just a yawn," Louis says, confused as to how Harry could find something like that cute.

"It's just you," says Harry, pinching one of Louis' cheeks.

"Hey, I'm not cute," he pouts, crossing his arms.

"Shut up, you like it when I call you cute," Harry says. Louis pouts further, but only because it's the truth. "You can sleep here tonight, if you'd like. I need to return the favor from the other week. But you're not drunk so we still might not be even."

Louis flips his pout to a smile. "Sure."

Harry gives him a pillow and a blanket to sleep on the sofa, and Louis is secretly disappointed that they won't be sleeping together. He likes being cuddled by Harry.

The next morning, Louis wakes up early. Seven to be exact. He groans, tries to roll over, and falls off the couch with a thud.

"Fuck," he groans, but doesn't have the energy to move from his awkward position sprawled on the floor. After a few minutes, however, he grows uncomfortable. He struggles to get up, accidentally slamming his knee into the low table in front of the sofa. Apparently it was harder than he thought, because a loud shattering noise follows and the once handsome table crumbles before his eyes.

"Fuck!" he repeats, stepping away from the glass mess. Harry runs in, wearing a pair of boxes and a long sleeved shirt.

"What happened?" he yells, slightly panicked. Louis gestures helplessly to the table.

"I-er-I...I broke it," he whimpers, covering his face with his hands. "I'm so sorry Harry, it was an accident my knee-"

Harry's eyes flicker to Louis' exposed knee. "Bloody hell, Lou, are you ok?"

"What?" Louis looks down at his knee, only to find a gash with a sheet of blood oozing out of it. "I didn't even feel that," he mutters to himself. He looks back up at Harry, whose face is rather pale.