Caught [l.s] (boyxboy)

IM Loved

what

is

up

soo, sorry i didn't update last night. i got really really into a show and then a movie (im binge watching my mad fat diary if anyone knows what show that is.. they don't show it in america i don't think bc it's british? and then john sent me a movie link soO) and then all of the sudden it was nine thirty and i was like "shit"

but anyway. tomorrow night i have dance practice until five and i have violin at seven so i'm gonna try super duper hard to update for you all but i can't make promises. i also have to update friends by the end of the week before my friend kills me and i need to finish those character asks but i feel like i just want to watch more my mad fat diary tbh.

QOTC: What are some things you'd like to see happen in this story? (I'm not going to change the plot for you, actually, but I'm curious to know.)

OH ANOTHER QUESTION: How do you guys feel about mpregs? I'm not making Caught an mpreg but I love to read them and I might write one? idk.

______________

"Alright, you've got to cheer up, Lou."

Louis doesn't want to cheer up is the thing; he quite likes wallowing in his own self-pity. It's something to do anyway, and it's not like anyone else has bothered to notice. Then again, they all decided a long time ago to ignore what the press and the social media websites said, but Louis can't help but feel like he's completely and utterly in this alone. "I'm fine."

"You're not fine," Harry persists. Louis shoves his spoon down further into his frozen yogurt angrily, avoiding Harry's eyes as he shoves another bite of the melty vanilla-y mess into his mouth. 

"What makes you say that?" Louis tries to keep his face at a normal, somewhat socially acceptable level of expression even as he gets a torturous brain freeze that he swears makes him forget his own name for just a second. "Look, I'm eating the yogurt. Fine people like yogurt."

Harry rolls his eyes. "That was terrible."

"Whatever, you're terrible," Louis scoffs, but he picks at the remainder of his yogurt moodily before he eventually shoves it away from him. Harry sighs and stands a few minutes later to throw both of their small to-go cups away. When he returns, Louis tugs his sleeves down his wrists a little bit more and settles into the chair. 

"I'm worried about you, y'know," Harry says quietly. Louis shifts rather awkwardly, trying to curl up and disappear into a little ball of nothingness against the solid back of the chair.

He feels so insignificant and scared, like a puppy lost in the dark, almost; but Harry is so welcoming and so calm that it makes Louis feel worse in a way, because he wishes he could be welcoming and calm but he's too worried about the rest of the world to even breathe in a full gasp of oxygen. He shakes his head to clear his frazzled mind but the paranoia is still there, of course it is. He can never get a break. 

But mostly, he loves Harry. And he wishes he could tell him that, but he can't. And if that's not the worst thing in the world to feel then Louis doesn't know what is.

"You shouldn't be. People get down sometimes, it's not a big deal," Louis mutters, but it is a big deal and he and Harry both know it's a big deal. Louis stares at the floor.

It seems to be the only thing that won't look at him with judgement or sadness in its eye. It doesn't even have eyes. It feels safe to stare at because the floor doesn't know the difference between a black man and a white man; the floor doesn't know the difference between a male and a female, the floor doesn't know a difference between Louis and a straight man. The floor doesn't know anything, really, because it's a fucking floor; but it still provides support for everyone.

Louis must be going crazy, he thinks, because he's sat here making deep metaphorical connections about floors.

"It is a big deal when you won't even look me in the eye." So Louis does look Harry in the eye, just this once; he wishes he hadn't. "It doesn't count when you do it like that, Louis, you know what I mean."

"I don't actually, I don't know what you mean. I don't know what more you want from me. Am I not allowed to just be in a mood from time to time? Do I have to be a positive ray of sunshine even when I'm feeling like utter shit-"

"That's what I'm trying to decipher Lou, why you're feeling like utter shit," Harry explains sort of hopelessly, actually. "I just want to help."

"Maybe I don't want your help." Of course I want your help I need your help I need you.

"If you're going to be that way," Harry huffs. Louis can practically hear the screech of the chair against the floor as Harry goes to walk away before he even moves at all. Panic spikes in his veins faster than the irritation had, because the last thing he wants is for Harry to leave him alone.

"No, wait." Louis' voice is so small. "I'm sorry, I just-"

"Louis, I can't deal with the mood swings anymore. I can't sit here wondering whether you're going to snap at me or burst into tears every time I speak, it's driving me mental." Harry laughs emotionlessly. "I don't know why you won't stop reading those tweets, Lou. I don't know what's crawled up your arse, and you know I love you to pieces but I can't - I can't keep accepting bullshit as an excuse anymore."

"What did you just say?" Louis' heart is threatening to beat out of his chest. 

"I can't keep accepting bul-"

"No, no, before that." Please don't let it have been a slip up please please please, I love you, I love you, I love you.

Harry furrows his brow in confusion. "You should stop reading those tweets?"

"A little after that." Idiot.

"You know I love you to bits and pieces?"

"Do you really?" Louis tries to keep his tone nonchalant and natural, he really does. (he fails.)

"Oh, um. Well, yeah. 'Course. I love all you guys." Oh.

Louis exhales heavily. "I see."

"Why do you ask?" Louis can tell Harry's caught on to the reasoning behind his question but he knows Harry will never come right out and ask Louis. Indirect communication seems to be both of their specialties.

"No reason."

"Bollocks to that, there's got to be a reason," Harry scoots closer to Louis. Louis bites his lower lip (which he really should stop doing, he knows) before he looks up at the taller of the two shyly. Harry brushes fringe from Louis' face and Louis swears to whatever superior being that might be out there that everytime Harry does that a small part of him dies. 

"Do you love me, Louis?" Louis can barely breathe, to tell you the truth. He doesn't even know if he can speak.

"Love is a powerful word," Louis says instead.

"That's why I ask," Harry's fingers are creeping up Louis' jawline and turning his head toward Harry's own softly. Louis is on the brink of vomiting, actually. "Do you?"

"I - I." There's not really a point in lying now, is there? "Yeah."

The corners of Harry's lips twitch up into a smile. Louis crying seems highly inappropriate given the circumstances but he isn't sure he can trust himself to speak again at all. So, he's grateful when Harry leans forward and bumps their noses together because it means that all he has to do is breathe (which he finally remembered how to do). Harry kisses Louis so briefly that Louis isn't even sure if it counts as a kiss, but Harry speaks against his lips just a half a second later. "Silly boy, you should have just told me."

"I was afraid," Louis admits. "I mean, it's a big step and.. I've never really loved anyone like this before. Or at all." 

"Well, you wanna know something?"

"Sure."

"Louis, I love you."