Smoke || larry

26

Harry fell asleep in Louis' arms last night and when he wakes up Louis still has him pulled close to his chest. It's Monday morning and the weather outside is cold and cloudy. Harry swallows thickly and curls more into his boyfriend.

His whole body aches and he's craving for a high he knows he shouldn't want. His mind is begging him for a hit, his body pleading. It's the strongest feeling Harrys ever had and he wants to pull out his hair.

Louis stirs and then opens his eyes. They're puffy and squinty from just waking up and his smile is soft and welcoming. His smile feels like home and when Harry looks at him he forgets about his urge for a moment.

"Morning, sleepy head," Louis whispers to him, his hand moving around to gently stroke his face. Harry nuzzles into the caress and hums appreciating at the touch.

"Morning. I don't think it's 9 yet," Harry tells him. Louis lifts his head to look at the clock and flops back down on the bed.

"7:30. Let's go back to bed," he murmurs, his eyes falling shut again. Harry just curls into him and draws small patterns on his chest, his mind not slowing down to sleep.

"Lou?" Harry whispers.

"Hmm," Louis mumbles back in acknowledgement.

"I need a hit. I'm going crazy," Harry tells him. Louis opens his eyes again and they look sad and tired. His eyes scan Harrys face and then he presses his lips against Harrys forehead, his lips lingering and his eyes shut. Harry closes his eyes too and enjoys the innocence of the small act. Enjoys the love that comes from it.

"Can you wait until 9?" Louis asks and Harry shakes his head. He needs another hit right now.

"Fuck. Okay... Go into my backpack," Louis instructs. Harry crawls from the bed and onto the floor, grabbing Louis' bag and opening it.

"Should be in a small bag. Are you sure you can't wait?" Louis asks again, now sitting up and biting his fingernails.

"I need this," Harry tells him. Louis nods in understanding and also slinks to the floor. He opens the bag and prepares the pipe for himself first and then for Harry. Louis watches him closely, monitoring how much he inhales and how his body reacts. Harry notices that Louis keeps an extra inhaler in his bag for him.

Something that small makes him want to cry. Louis keeps an extra inhaler just in case Harry forgets. It's such a small act of caring, but it means so much. Means more to Harry than he can explain.

Louis cautiously pulls the pipe from Harrys limp fingers and then leans back. Harry feels like he can breathe easier now that the drug is in his system and even Louis looks more relaxed.

"Lou? Can you tell me about yourself?" Harry asks and Louis looks at him with no emotion.

"Not now, H," he says, his voice dismissive. Normally, Harry would drop it but the drug in him is making him bold.

"Tell me. If you really love me you'd tell me," Harry argues and Louis just raises his brows in annoyance.

"I love you, but I'm not talking about it."

"Then you don't love me!" Harry screams and Louis jumps up, his eyes furious.

"Do not raise your voice at me. If I don't want to talk then don't force me to. Shut the fuck up and mind your own business," Louis says threateningly and Harry can feel anger brew inside of him. He learned in health class that most drugs cause anger and paranoia and now he's learning that first hand.

"Why do you shut me out? Why don't you trust me? Am I not good enough? Do you think I'm ugly?" Harrys now freaking out, his voice coming fast and squeaky.