Uni (A Larry Stylinson Story) ✅

Fuck

Trigger's: Eating disorders, self harm, suicide attempts, homophobia, violence

Louis' point of view

Fuck, fuck, fuck. There was no way this could be happening right now. No fucking way.

After I saw Liam in the café, I ran outside in a panic and completely lost control. I don't even know where I planned on going. I just kept running and running until my lungs were burning and my legs were aching and I couldn't go any further.

I remember collapsing on the sidewalk somewhere and just throwing up all over the ground, expelling that disgusting burger that I never deserved. Scratching at my wrists which I had foolishly allowed to heal. And crying. Crying so god damn hard that my head started to pound and I saw stars. I've never been so broken.

I had no idea I would react so badly when I saw him again— I knew it would be bad, but I didn't think it would be this bad, this unbearable. I thought I was doing so much better now, but as soon as I locked eyes with him, everything came flashing back to me in vivid detail.

It was sophomore fall again. Liam and I had matched on Tinder and recently started hooking up. He was handsome and tall, with brown hair and brown eyes and a sexy smile that was enough to get me hard on the spot. He had strong hands and a muscular body— and boy, he sure knew how to use them. But at the end of the day, we were both super busy— him with football, and me with my music stuff— so we decided to keep it casual, no strings attached.

"This is fun," Liam would coo, before sucking on my collar bone. "I love having fun..."

A few weeks into our no strings arrangement, however, Liam told me he wasn't out yet. It kind of freaked me out a bit because it meant that we had to be super careful about everything we did together. But I told him that wasn't my business and it was fine by me since we weren't serious. We continued to meet up once a week just to fuck. He could make me moan like no other— and it was usually enough to make me forget about his secret life as a 'straight guy' outside of my bedroom. 

"Moan for me, baby," Liam would whisper as he penetrated me with a finger. "Get me wet."

Eventually, after a couple of months of this, I started getting attached to Liam. And Liam started getting attached to me. I enjoyed telling him little stories that made him giggle, tickling him where he liked it, asking him about the football team and pretending I understood the game just to make him happy. He even tried to learn about music for me— and he showed up with flowers and a Teddy bear on Valentine's Day (but hidden in his gym bag until he got inside). It was clear we wanted more than just a casual relationship. But I wasn't sure how we were going to do it with him still in the closet. I'll never forget what he told me that night.

"Louis," he whispered, caressing me in his strong arms and looking up at me with those big brown eyes. "I love you, Lou. And I want to be with you. For real."

I remember almost crying on the spot. I couldn't believe it— because I had felt the same way for a while, but never wanted to push him. I was so damn excited.

"I love you too, babe," I replied. "We'll make this work."

But it didn't work. Not one single bit. About a week later, Liam and I went to a party at the football house and we both got a little too drunk. We went upstairs to have sex, and while we thought we were being quiet, we were actually being extremely loud.

Liam and I used to alternate between bottom and top, and that night, I was the one riding. So when one of the football players opened the bedroom door, it was me who was doing to the work— and it was me who Liam blamed for raping him.