Can I dip? | Larry Stylinson

F i f t y - n i n e

He's finally back from the (almost) two week vacation. If you're wondering why it's slightly extended, uni was moved for another week, because of a ceiling problem. Apparently, there were falling pieces of wood from Hall B. They're trying to get it fixed in a span of a week, which made the boys rejoice--but Harry still needed to leave, so-

Harry slams the door of the car, not before thanking his personal driver, Frank, hopping down to walk to the front steps of Tom's million dollar apartment in Malibu. Frank scurries down to help Harry, but he refuses, telling him to drive off and enjoy his weekend.

There Harry was, panting as he carries 3 heavy loads with his lanky arms and jelly like legs.

Tonight's gonna be a hard night.

Once he reaches the door, he rests his head against a post before pressing the doorbell.

He presses it again, since it's been 5 minutes.

Still no response.

He steps back the porch and looks up to the windows. One window had lights on. Tom is clearly home.

"Tom!" Harry yells, putting two of his hands to cup his mouth, attempting to make it louder.

"Tom! It's Harry!" He yells again, his throat beginning to hurt.

No answer once again.

Harry shakes his head, deciding to use the spare key under his "welcome" mat. He flips over the mat and digs under it to look for the small key. He slides it out once he got a hold of it.

He inserts the key and turns it, unlocking the front door. He kicks off his boots and takes off his coat, hanging it on the coat hanger.

"Tom!" He calls out again as he walks up the stairs to his bedroom.

He sees light outlining his bedroom door, seeing that, he's obviously there.

"Tom! I'm home!" As Harry nears the bedroom, he can hear a lot of rattling and faint whispers. He can't be with his assistant. She only comes here every Wednesday to deliver his magazine subscription, other than that, Tom never really lets her into his flat.

Harry turns the knob and peeks in, seeing Tom stand beside the bed, only in his shirt and briefs. He's holding the blanket for some odd reason. He puts it down and looks at Harry with furrowed eyebrows.

"Oh, I-I thought you'll arrive tomorrow." He mutters, looking around. Harry bites his lower lip, feeling a bit unwanted. "I decided to book a flight right after you told me to go home." He explains, slowly walking over to the bed, making Tom widen his eyes and looks down. Harry doesn't notice this though.

He grabs Tom's hand and stares at him, concerned. "What's the matter?"

Tom changes his demeanour all of a sudden and smiles forcefully, "N-nothing! Let's—uhm-go down for a bit—"

"Why—" Harry asks, confused. He looks around, making Tom hold his head and peck him on the lips.

"I-I think I brought home Chinese—yeah, come on." He stands up and pulls Harry's arm, leading him downstairs.

"O-ok" Harry says, couldn't even protest as Tom leads him out of the room. He turns his head back, observing the seemingly "off" looking room. He tilts his head, shrugging it off and turning back.

-

Harry looks up at Tom as he shoves Chinese fried rice into his mouth, showing him how he's enjoying the meal, even though he actually doesn't. He always does this every time Tom brings home Chinese, which is almost every time they meet up. He just wants to please him. He thought having a strong stomach doesn't have its advantages, but now at least he could say he found one.