The Styles Triplets

Chapter eight

Warning: Light smut and immoral affair.

Harry drummed his fingers lazily on his thigh, vision fixated on the television straight ahead. His eyes roamed over whatever the Kardashian's troubled on about but his head was grotesquely preoccupied with the sudden events that occured on him earlier. He didn't even notice how the telly shut off, not even Edward's presence, standing just in front of him.

"Something off between you and Louis." It didn't come out as a question, Edward spoke his thoughts bluntly. He didn't fail to spot the forming frown on Harry's countenance, not even the exasperation that took over his brother's composure. Edward somehow found it amusing.

The way he watched Harry crumbling on his seat as if the mere mention of Louis' name functioned as his kryptonite was a scene Edward would surely retain for his taunting purposes. "Perk up, Haz. He's not worth your attention. Sure he's Zayn's friend but you can always ignore him. Don't let Louis get into you, he's a troublesome lad, we all know it."

"Troublesome." Harry tsked. "Course he is! Wouldn't want to mingle with his kind. But it really bothers me Ed..." his fading timbre implied his curiosity, enduring the specific matter for weeks. "How are they even friends?" He began gritting his teeth, scraping his molars only to produce a frustrating sound.

"Will you stop that! And what the hell are you even talking about? Budge up!" Edward scooted closer as he carried on listening to Harry's ponderings. The younger boy flicked his gaze towards him, eyes squinting at the thought that may or may not have ensued. "What the hell? Speak up or-

"Louis and Marcel. How the fuck are they friends? Marcel's an outcast, how in the world did he get acquainted with that bastard?"

The idea alone made Harry want to snicker, but with the current situation transpiring within their conversation, he opted to maintain the solid scowl on his face. Edward endured the silence that unexpectedly cropped up, making a mental note of how much of a complete twat Harry sounded.

Shortly, after what seemed like a minute, Edward cleared his throat to indicate the sudden interest of Harry's bemusement. Does he not want Marcel to have at least a single friend? He wasn't even sure whether Marcel and Louis were having those 'fundamental concepts of friendship', or they just converse for informality.

Edward has no idea, the two knew nothing about them. But those were beside the point, it somehow got into him, mystefying the older lad as well, thanks to Harry's prying.

"I bet they fuck."

"What?" Edward failed to fathom the words correctly. He refused to believe the words his ears had grasped.

"He probably fucked Marcel, it's fairly explicable. Like, I mean there's no way they became friends just like that? I'm quite certain Marcel offered him his virginity." the younger boy assented his own bullshit, nodding his head as if what he theorized was highly authentic.

Cut the crap. Edward thought.

"Shut up Harry. We both know Marcel's better than that, he's not stupid as what you always think of him as." Edward chided disbelievingly, Harry on the other hand huffed at his disagreement. Since when did Edward obtain a heart of gold? For all he knew he was no different from him, they once both plotted on Marcel's greatest humiliation back in year 7. So why is he acting like a goddamn philanthropist now?

Phoney. Harry mused. Edward's slipping out his hand and he had to held on him, firmer. He can't lose him, of all people who stood by his side, he needed Edward the most. His eldest brother knew mostly everything about him. His conspiracies, temper, and even his frauds. Basically Edward kept all his secrets, always had concealed every knowledge in his mind and body.