you put the O in disOrder ➢ (l.s)

O.9

(LOUIS'S POV)

"Hey, Bambi!" I yell, waving him over to me with a huge grin I cant hold back even if I tried. I watch eagerly as he shuffles down the hallway in his over sized sweater and black sweatpants. How adorable.

I can't deny, I missed him, but only after a day, he looks...

different.

Not a bad different, just not a good one.

His eyes are a dull pale green with dark circles beneath them, as he approaches me with a small half smile that I know is being forced.

I put the tips of my fingers on his shoulder, my grin fading into a deep set frown. When he comes close enough he flinches away from my touch just a bit.

Ouch.

I pull back and clear my throat a little, and the awkward air is

h

a

n

g

i

n

g.

between us in a thick blanket.

"Harry?" I ask softer, almost whispering, and he turns away a little, his eyes cold like a winter blizzard. Fatal. Hazardous, but damn. They draw me in.

They always do.

"Harry look at me, come on. What happened?" I pry, almost begging.

He actually looks like Bambi now, in that terrible scene, that everyone hates to watch. That scene that causes tears to drip off small children's faces, the scene that makes you wonder why it's a Disney film.

Why is it a Disney film?

I watch him, study him, breathe him in as I move closer. I fall into his gravity willingly, letting it cause the sweet tension I like to feel whenever we're close.

I just orbit around him recently, wanting to hang about and see him shiver when he gets those feelings he can't help.

He shakes his head and backs away, and a stray tear slips over his cheek.

"Harry plea--"

"N-No."

"Why?" I ask, a small whimper in my voice.

"Because, I'm disgusting." He whispers brokenly, his voice shaking immensely, and my heart is racing at the speed of light with worry.

"You are

b e a u t i f u l."

Is all I want to say to him.

But that would be weird, right?

Would it?

God wouldn't even know, in this case.

After a few moments of my lips screaming at me to kiss him, I can't help it, I give in. I press my lips against his forehead, and linger there. He lets me.

"Stop." I say, sternly but in a caring way, as I wrap him in a hug he desperately needs. "You're okay, Harry. You're okay here with me."

He nods and cries silently into my shirt, and I rub at his curls a little, threading my fingers in them as he completely goes slack against my chest.

Can he feel my heart thrumming? Can he feel how much I care for him?

I hope so.

I feel his sputtering hot breaths on my thin t-shirt and I hold on tighter, in fear he might just dart off, or slip away out of thin air.