Alone Together

⋆eight.

Louis' POV:

"So, Louis Tomlinson..."

"Harry Styles." I grin, trying to avoid the video camera. I look down at my hands, pushing hair from my eyes.

"Who are you?" Harry stresses, and I shrug my shoulders.

"You just said who I was." I murmur, and Harry chuckles airily.

"What defines you then, eh?" I look up to see Harry gazing at me expectantly. "Oh, and I didn't say your middle name.. so I didn't actually say who you were."

"William, my middle name is William." I tell him softly, suddenly feeling more than shy.

"What makes you Louis William Tomlinson?"

"Can you put some music on?" I ask, our eyes meeting. I bite my lip, feeling a blush creep upon my skin.

"Sure-"

"Preferably not the music you listen to." I interrupt, and Harry scoffs and sends his deadly glare in my direction. "What?"

"My music isn't bad." Harry turns his back to me and pulls out his phone. I notice a crack in the corner, and my lips bend sympathetically.

"It's devil music." the words slip from my mouth before I can stop them, and I flinch as Harry clicks his tongue.

"Well what would you like to listen to?" Harry's voice is artificial, and I rub my hands together.

"What do you have?" I whisper, trying to not start an argument. I've never seen him truly angry, and from what the stories tell, I don't want to. The thought is terrifying.

"Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Sleeping With Sirens, Paramore, The 1975, Bring Me The Horizon, The Beatles..." Harry trails off, and I don't dare look up at him.

"I'm not allowed to listen to Nirvana, Pearl Jam, or The Beatles." I murmur, and Harry grumbles something under his breath.

"We'll stick with-"

"I've heard of The 1975, I like them." I smile, thinking of Niall.

"Good choice." Harry tells me, and I can feel my cheeks flush.

"Thank you." I sigh, letting my eyes close. Deep breaths Tommo. I continue a mantra of the first ten numbers, trying to calm me. Harry puts me on edge, and I've come to the quick realization that he's so mercurial. It's hard and frustrating to keep up with.

"I wish you would talk as much as you think, but you're awfully prettier when that smart mouth is shut." Harry comments, and my head jerks up.

"You're such a jerk." how dare he say things like that to me?

"Yes-"

"Your di-penis belongs in your pants, not your personality." I snap, wincing at the almost slip-up. Harry's eyes widen, and I can't help the firework of pride that goes through me. Point for me! Shutting up Styles, maybe that deserves another point...

"That didn't make any sense." Harry breaks the short silence just as the music begins to play.

"I don't like the first word, so." I huff, looking at the window. The sun is slowly setting, but it's dying rays are seeping through Harry's white curtains. "What song is this?"

"Me."

"What?" my gaze drifts back to the punk, a wave of uncertainty washing through me. Should I really be here with him, alone?

"The song is called Me."

"Oh." I nod, suddenly feeling restless. I squirm on the bed, wanting to groan aloud at this new sense of being- but I refrain from doing so.