This Feels A Lot Like Love

13. Watch Me Speak From My Heart

Harry stared at his blotchy reflection in the water. Louis and Harry were sitting side by side on the edge of the pool, their feet dangling in the water. They were close enough that their shoulders were touching.

"I think I'm just gonna head home now," Harry sighed.

Louis looked at Harry with sagged, tired eyes. "You sure you don't want me to come with?" Harry's eyes traced over Louis' delicate cheekbones, the reddish-brown hair speckled on his chest and his delicious thick thighs.

Louis groaned. He scratched down Harry's back and bit his lip until blood was dribbling down the corner of his mouth. Harry resumed rolling his hips expertly as if he had been riding since he was born. He leaned down and caught Louis' mouth in a bruising kiss, cleaning up the blood with his wet tongue and growling animalistic. It was wrong, but Harry loved the metal taste of it.

"Nah. I'll be alright."

Louis nodded. Harry stood up and padded to where his clothes were folded on the chair. He slid them on and toed on his Chelsea boots. He ran a hand through his slick hair.

"Thanks, Lou. For everything."

Harry's lips quirked in an attempt to smile, but it came out all wrong. Louis looked towards Harry, not quite looking directly at him, but instead staring intently at the wet tiles.

"No problem."

Harry nicked the door shut behind himself. He unlocked his bicycle from the bike rack and threw a leg over the seat, bicycling home. Once he arrived home, he climbed off while the bicycle rammed into the garage, the wheels still rolling. He walked inside and kicked off his boots, peeling off the damp socks from his wiggling toes.

Anne appeared around the hallway, carrying a can of soda and a large, empty bowl. The smell of buttered popcorn wafted in the air. Anne blinked at Harry adorned with wet curls.

"Harry," Anne drawled out, her tone surprised. "You're home early."

Harry pressed his lips together, his dimple deepening. He offered Anne his best fake smile. He shrugged carelessly as he walked past her.

"Yeah, well, I started to feel ill again. You were right. I should have stayed home and rested."

Anne tsk'ed on the roof of her mouth. She rubbed Harry's back, the warmth from her fingertips seeping into his skin in a comforting way.

"Hope you feel better," Anne called out as Harry walked upstairs.

Harry closed the bedroom door shut after himself. He turned off the lights and proceeded to rid himself of his sticky clothing. He pulled on a warm jumper over his shivering skin and tugged on another fresh pair of sweatpants.

Harry dropped to his knees and scooted to his television, opening the cabinet underneath it. His fingertips bumped along the spines of his hefty Disney movies collection. He mindlessly picked one and pushed the DVD in, pressing play.

Harry splayed on his unmade bed, bright colors of light from the television flickering over his features. Baby Tarzan giggled in the screen, his smiling face producing high-pitched, bubbly laughter. Harry fluttered his eyes shut and licked his lips. His body started lulling with sleep, his chest expanding from warm puffs of air.

Everything went pitch black.

Some hours later, Harry rose slowly from his deep slumber. He rubbed his eyes tiredly and sat up, blearily blinking into the darkness. The Tarzan's main menu was playing on loop. Harry flicked the television off, quickly being blanketed into a sheet of dark solace. He looked out into the starless night sky. Quiet chatter lulled from downstairs, light seeping from underneath the bedroom door.