you put the O in disOrder ➢ (l.s)

O.7

(LOUIS'S POV)

My first interview with Harry, wasn't really an interview at all.

It was like...

Well, I want to call it a date.

But I can't.

It's not like we kissed or anything, but he's so... Eccentric and alluring that I wouldn't mind if we did end up doing just that.

When we were playing in the sand that day his leg kept twitching a little, I knew why and I told him up front that I didn't care if he had one of his episodes in front of me.

'This is supposed to be a learning experience' I told him, and all he could do was blush and stay silent.

I don't want him uncomfortable around me.

But on the second time we met, on Thursday, we went to a local library and I could tell that he was.

I look at him as his face is flushed pink and he squirms on the couch just a bit. He's crossing his legs and swallowing thickly and it makes me feel

so

fucking

terrible.

"Harry... Are you okay? Do you need to take a break from all the questions for a little bit?" I ask gently, sitting across from him and putting my laptop on the small round table in front of me.

I just want to know what he feels, I want to know how to make him comfortable, but I can't.

I just don't have that power.

He shakes his head and tries to hold back whimpers, and dear god...

Amazing.

That's what his sounds were.

Simply. Amazing.

I look at him with furrowed eyebrows and tilt my head a little bit, wondering what I could do to help until he gasps a little.

"N-No.. I can't.. make i-it to the bathroom I-" He stutters out quietly, and then his hand fists the couch's material as he covers his mouth and tears up a bit.

I can tell he doesn't want me to look.

So I follow his silent plead, and turn my head, looking at a shelf of books and wishing I could hold him tight in my arms and whisper how everything is going to be okay.

But it's not.

And I know that.

Because Harry's rare disorder is not built for happy endings.

Or comfortable ones.

I can hear a whimper, that's strained and quiet. That's when I know that it's happened, and I shouldn't look for a few more seconds.

I can hear him trying to conceal his breaths as the zipper to his bag makes a

zzzzzz

noise.

I turn back to face him and he discreetly tries to pull out another pair of boxers.

He needs to change.

Should I help him? Let him be? I have no clue.

But my impulses react before I have time to think.

I stand up just when he does, and he's a bit shaky.

He also won't look me in the eye as I rub his arm and pull him a little closer.

"I'll show you to the bathroom, Bambi." I say in a whisper and I see a tear roll off his perfect little face.

A perfect little face that I so desperately wish to pepper supportive kisses on.

Ugh.

He follows timidly, and when we get there he gives me this totally shameful glance that I can't ignore.

"I told you that I don't mind Harry, I really don't," I say, as gently as I possibly can and reach out to fix a stray curl off his forehead.

He looks at me.

Like, directly at me.

I look at him back until there's this moment where we just kind of skim each others faces, as if we were window shopping.

"Sorry." Is all he says after a moment, under his breath as he shuffles into the bathroom and closes the door softly behind himself.

All I can do is wait, a few inches away from the door.

Because I can't get my feet to move themselves back over to where they belong.

I look like a stalker.

But if I'm being honest I can't really say I care all that much.

He comes out and clears his throat, and I see from behind him that his old boxers are shoved into the trash bin.

Poor Bambi.

I smile at him regardless of what I see, and he gives a plastic one back to me.

I attack him.

In a hug.

But I wish I attacked him with loving words and empty promises.

"You're so cool, Bambi." I say and I feel him relax, surprisingly.

I honestly thought for a moment he was going to push me off or something.

I'm glad he didn't.

"Not as cool as you." He says with a smile.

And I can feel his smile, on the crook of my neck.

It sends shivers up my spine, and I hope that he doesn't see the little hairs on the back of my neck stand straight up. Along with the goosebumps on my arms.

We pull back, and get into our original seats. It's calm, and quiet as I ask him more questions until we get off topic and start giggling and snorting at each others knock knock jokes.

"Knock, knock." He says with a smile.

"Who's there?"
"Iva."
"Iva who?"

"I've a sore hand from knocking!"

He finishes, and his giggles are the second best thing I've ever heard.

The first is his voice in general.

It actually came to the point where the librarian had to walk over to us and give us a lecture on 'being quiet.'

'blah blah blah read books blah blah stop laughing.' - She says something around that, and she sounded like a choking pelican on acid tabs.

Me and Harry share an amused look as she scolds us.

To her complete dismay, we didn't stop our fits of laughter, and eventually, we both got kicked out.

We still laughed giddily and the librarian shouted after us as we sprinted down the outside steps and towards the park with huge smiles planted on our faces.

"Rotten kids!"

______________________________________________________________

Welllllllllllllllll? I had a shit day by the way, but writing this made me feel a bit better...

I'm trying this new thing by the way!

It's called asking people how they are.

How are y'all doin today? xxx

Muccch love,

Amber <3