To Curly:) oh god please save me they are so disgusting
From Curly:) wanna come over? :)
Louis feels extraordinarily thankful that Harry doesn’t question it. Because he can make a list- a list - of how utterly disgusting Liam and Zayn are. The regret of letting them ever fulfill their date alone is quickly filling him, because they are just so fucking gross. One minute they’re kissing and cuddling and talking to each other like they’re sodding babies, then the next minute they’re dry humping each other and moaning and groaning, and fucking ew. It all makes Louis want to slit his throat and jump into a pool of goddamn lemon juice.
Louis sends Harry a quick ‘on my way’ and he doesn’t even think the two lovebirds notice him slipping out the door.
The next thing he knows he is sitting cross-legged on Harry's bedroom floor, Harry’s hand sprawled across his thigh as he leans backwards and cackles loud enough the neighbours will hear.
“I never said I was any good at painting nails,” Louis says, licking his thumb and wiping away the bright red mark that runs across Harry’s thumb.
“You’re terrible.” Harry says between crossed fingers and giggles.
“Yeah, I can tell you something that's terrible alright,” he mutters under his breath, and Harry giggles again.
“Are they really that bad?” He asks, smile evident in his tone as Louis paints over his pointer finger.
“God, yes. At least I have the decency to take my boyfriends somewhere else. All they do is cuddle on the couch- my couch, by the way- and trade spit and- god, they are probably having sex on it right now,” Louis groans and ends up swiping across Harry’s middle finger with the polish.
“You have a boyfriend, then?” Harry asks, cautiously almost, but Louis just shakes head.
“Not at the moment, no. My last relationship was over a year ago and after that I just decided to take a little break, y’know? We ended it mutually, and honestly, I could probably call him up and we could chat like friends, but y’know. He just wasn’t that type of person I could see myself with in the long-run.”
Louis looks up and sees Harry nodding at what he's saying. Louis gestures for his other hand and Harry moves it over. “So what about you Harry? Boyfriends, girlfriends?” Louis doesn't expect Harry to have one, because he said he has no friends, but he figures he might as well still ask.
“Boyfriends,” Harry says shyly, “and no, none at the moment.”
Louis does better at this hand, the thumb turning out quite well with minimal painting over the cuticle, and he’ll admit, he’s quite proud of himself.
He smiles smugly, looking up to Harry, “No nasty exes or anything then?”
It’s all in light teasing, but somehow, Louis finds Harry tensing under his touch.
Their eyes meet, and then Harry is looking away, muttering, “No, not really.”
Louis watches him for a minute. He knows Harry's lying about something, wonders if maybe Harry’s never actually had a boyfriend before and he’s embarrassed about it, or perhaps he is still getting over an ex and it’s a touchy subject. He doesn’t dig further, though, not wanting to make Harry uncomfortable.
But. It’s quiet now. Not just the sound quiet, but the feeling quiet. It makes Louis’ skin crawl.
So maybe he says it just to fill the spaces of their breaths, or maybe he says it because he thinks it will make Harry happy. “Hey, how about you paint my nails after I do yours, yeah? See if you're actually all that good?”
Harry's eyes light up, dimples caving in. “Really?”
Louis shrugs. “Yeah, why not?”
Louis finishes Harry's last two fingers easily enough, with a grinning Harry bouncing in enthusiasm. “What colour do you want?”
“What colour do you think will look good on me?” Louis asks, looking to Harry through his eyelashes.
Harry bites his lip, then gets up to look at his racks of polishes that are all colour and brand coordinated. He picks up a pale blue colour, and sits back down.
“I think this would look the best,” he says shyly, taking the hand Louis offers him and carefully shaking the bottle a bit. He unscrews the cap and sets it beside him.
“Why’d’ya think this would look best?” Louis asks in amusement, watching Harry’s face as he concentrates on painting his pinky. A calming feeling rushes through Louis’ body at the cool feeling he gets just right under his nails.
“It's pretty, like your eyes.” Harry says simply.
He feels it now. He feels the uncontrollable feeling spread warmth through his body like little forest fires, and he knows exactly what it is. Harry is pretty, and Harry is sweet, and he's only known him a couple weeks now, but he knows the feeling and he pushes it away as the varnish brush softly paints over his nails.
“Yeah, you really think they're that pretty?” he says teasingly, fluttering his eyelashes dramatically when Harry glances up to him, only to look back down with a blush spreading over his face.
He nods carefully, “Um, yeah. It was actually the first thing I noticed about you.”
“Really?” Louis chews at his lip. Harry's already switching to his other hand.
“Mhhm, they're my favourite colour.”
Louis smiles, ignoring the blush that's getting brighter on his own cheeks. He murmurs, “Yeah, well, my favourite colour is green.”
(The feeling is inescapable when Harry looks up at him with bright, bright, green eyes and a beaming grin.)
YOU ARE READING
Strawberry Milk L.S.
Novela Juvenil"So here's the thing," he starts. "I didn't mean what I said a few weeks ago to like, hurt your feelings or anything. If you like painting your nails, then you should do that, and not like, care if anyone else doesn't like it because their opinions...
