(NOT MINE) Poor Little Rich Boy (larry stylinson AU)

Chapter 5

Chapter Five:

For such a vibrant and social person, it was really quite surprising how much Louis enjoyed a bit of peace and quiet. Likewise, he loved his friends to bits, but their company could be a little suffocating at times if one didn't have a break every now and then. He'd found it very comforting, however, knowing that even at best Hannah wouldn't resurface before eleven, and both Zayn and Niall struggled to be up by lunch. Stan could be awake from any time between four o'clock in the morning and three o'clock in the afternoon, but usually spent at least half an hour in the bathroom showering, and his absence from outside Louis' bedroom door when Louis sneaked out would suggest that he was having a lazy day rather than an over-productive one.

There were few people on the beach at six o'clock on a Sunday morning, and Louis was almost completely alone as he stood shuffling his feet and kicking sand around, staring at the ground, lost in thought. He was struggling with a little conundrum which he liked to call 'the Harry Styles problem'. So far, he hadn't had much success in trying to solve it.

He was confused. There seemed to be no obvious reason as to Harry's reluctance; he'd immediately jumped to the conclusion that a previous relationship had ended poorly, but seeing as Harry had shown no aversion to discussing past lovers, he'd had to rule that out. Nor did he seem to have anything against relationships in general. Therefore Louis could only assume that he was cripplingly shy - not that his cheeky comments and overall flirtation tied in particularly well with that theory, but it seemed like the most likely of them all. Either that, or he had some kind of split personality disorder, and Louis highly doubted that.

Or an evil twin who could switch places with him in the blink of an eye, Louis mused idly, staring boredly out at the ocean. Well. Perhaps not evil. Introverted. An introverted twin and an extroverted twin. Hmm.

That was another idea which he discarded as unlikely, and with a heavy sigh, he went back to pacing restlessly up and down, as if following the same bland little trail of his own footprints round and round in a wobbly circle would miraculously answer all of his questions.

The fact was that by now he ought to have had Harry over the hotel bar and made him scream so loud he forgot his own name, and more than once, too. Interestingly, the fact that he couldn't persuade Harry into even leaving his room was more of an incentive than a deterrent. He wanted to understand the curly haired boy, that was the thing. Already, he'd gotten over the initial lust and was feeling curiosity instead, which, for him, was unusual in itself. Rather than simply forcing Harry into giving in, he wanted to have the satisfaction of knowing that Harry had gone with him because he simply couldn't bear not to; couldn't summon the restraint any more. The trouble was that he wasn't sure he could do it.

He had to find some kind of subtle, sweet way of winning the boy over. Sweet, Louis did excellently - subtle, however, wasn't really his forte. Anything but, as a matter of fact.

Which meant that, the more he thought about it, the more he grimly realized that his previous antics would only have dissuaded Harry: dragging him fully clothed into the hotel pool; lying in his hotel room and practically ordering to come down for breakfast and meet four total strangers; wearing tight clothes and swaggering around the golf course like he owned it...he cursed himself and his complete lack of tact. He could have at least attempted to be delicate about the matter. But no; as usual, he'd blundered in and expected Harry to fall at his feet, and for once, it hadn't worked in his favour. Charming the pants off someone didn't really work when, to them, charisma was about as welcome as bacon would be to a vegetarian.

It was safe to say that he was lost in his own little world when he heard the splash.

He wouldn't have paid much attention to it if it hadn't been for the exasperated "Duchess!" that accompanied the noise, and then the slightly worried "Duch, come out of there! It's deep, you shouldn't - are you okay, Duch? Duch?" The tone had risen from irritated to anxious to almost panicked, and Louis' head snapped up and he frowned, sensing trouble.