you put the O in disOrder ➢ (l.s)

O.27

(LOUIS' POV)

Isn't it wonderful how men can't get pregnant?

In the real world at least. In the internet world... A fucking rock could get pregnant if it so chose.

That's why I'm glad Harry isn't pregnant. Although I find myself day dreaming of living with him, creating a family someday...

I really love him.

And Zayn, really really loves me.

Yes. I've figured it out weeks ago.

It's winter now, and Harry and I had sex in the fall.

Well, for the first time at least.

We've been fucking like rabbits ever since, honestly.

Zayn gets so jealous, and I can see it in his eyes. Especially now, when Harry's cuddled up to me on the couch.

Zayn had nowhere else to go, or else he'd be drinking and doing drugs elsewhere. Somewhere far away from the apartments couch as he could possibly get.

In my peripheral vision, I see him sneak glances of me. Some long, some short. Some just utterly creepy.

He told me that he loved me too, that night when I found out. A couple beers lead to a couple laughs, then a couple tears, and finally: a confession.

The confession he told stole the cake, whereas mine, proposing to Harry, merely took a slice.

I knew it was time to move out just then. In fact, I'd been looking around for my own place.

Actually, maybe a flat for me and Harry.

I haven't asked him yet, if he wants to live with me. He's only seventeen, going on eighteen for christ sake. I know that.

And in legal terms, I'm a rapist.

Which is totally fucked.

But me and Harry have discussed it. We know there's no end for us both, and we've established the fact that we love each other.

Would you take that risk? Risking everything for just one person out of the approximate seven-billion that roam this earth?

Again, I'll ask.

Don't give me some bullshit either.

Would you?

Because I would. I already have.

"I think we should get out of here..."

It's a timid sound, and it floats passed my ear, making my skin calm, and all weightless.

Can you imagine, one whisper doing that to you?

Have you ever been in love?

"Maybe to McDonalds?"

There it is again, the whisper. His voice. Shaking shyly in the room where three people sit at a couch.

Two of us are strangers, and one of us is home.

In this case, me and Harry are the burdens.

"We're gonna go get some food. You want any?" And then there is my voice. Above a whisper, gritting through the silence and the miscellaneous sounds of the telly.

Harry describes my voice to be manly, and I simply laugh.

Manly? What does that sound like? A man? I hate to break it to him, "I'm just a boy." I want to say, but I don't want to burst his bubble. Right?