This Feels A Lot Like Love

16. I Only Love My Bed And My Momma, I'm Sorry

Harry and Louis were back together again. Well, if Harry said that he would be lying.

No, they weren't properly together, but cold nights like these Louis would crawl into Harry's bedroom and kiss him tenderly while his nimble fingers worked inside of Harry. Louis would leave in the mornings with pillow littered cheeks and disheveled bedhead hair. Harry would sneak Louis a cup of tea and send him on his way with a friendly pat on the arse.

Harry wasn't used to sleeping alone anymore. It got so bad that he would toss and turn in bed all night if Louis wasn't tucked behind him. Harry would begrudgingly get up from bed, throw on a jumper and bicycle to Louis' house in the wake of night, desperately trying to stay awake as he would veer off the road. When he would climb into Louis' bed, Louis would merely hum, "Hazza," in his sleep and hug Harry tighter to his chest. Harry would hide his sleepy smile in the deep arch of Louis' neck, breathing him in.

It went on.

Every time Harry would arrive to class that he had with Jade, she would look at him in pity and shake her head. Jade was merely disappointed that Harry would never have 'the talk' with Louis, simply letting Louis use him for sex. Harry would feebly argue back that he was equally using Louis for sex, although he got off on pleasing Louis more than himself even when he was achingly hard and bubbling pre-come at the tip.

The boys stopped looking at Harry in question whenever Louis and Harry would join them with flushed cheeks and giddy smiles. They wanted to know if Harry finally told Louis he was in love with him. Harry would always shake his head no. Eventually, the boys stopped asking and Jade stopped shaking her head.

Harry didn't care anymore if Louis never reciprocated his feelings for him. He was taking whatever Louis was willing to give him. He didn't know if that was selfless love or if he was just incredibly stupid. He liked to think it was the former even though it was probably the latter.

It was the end of the school day when Harry walked Louis to David Beckham. Not the footballer but rather the sleek, black Maserati. Harry was dressed in an ironed, white collared shirt and a classic, black tie for a presentation he had to do in his class. The boys and Jade mercilessly teased him for it, but Louis popped Harry's collar and smiled sweetly at him, murmuring, "I think he looks nice." Harry thought it was worth it.

"It's really hot in this outfit."

"You're really hot in that outfit."

Harry huffed out a small laugh. He shoved his hands into his trousers pocket, standing in front of Louis and David. Louis clambered inside, letting the car door shut behind himself. He clasped on his seatbelt and turned the key into the ignition, David vibrating into life in a low hum.

"Hey," Louis started saying, squinting up at Harry from the sun in his eyes. "I was wondering if you wanted to come over tonight?"

"Sure." Harry bent over and hung his forearms on the open car window. "What time?" His eyes lit up with a bright idea, his smile deepening into a smirk. "Ooh, do you want me to bring my pink, fuzzy handcuffs again?"

Louis' face blanched. "N—No," he stuttered, caught off guard. Harry smirked wider. "Not for that. I meant, like, for dinner and stuff. It's Family Night, you know, the thing I told you where my stepdad doesn't work late and we all eat as a family together?"

Harry blinked rapidly. He lost some of his cool, shrinking into his normal, awkward self again.

"Oh, yeah. That sounds nice."

"Okay." Louis smiled sunnily up at Harry. "How's seven for you?"

"Sounds good."

"Good."