All You Are is What I Need (Larry BoyxBoy) Book 2

Thirty Three

"How formal are we suppose to be, now?" Harry calls out. He is digging through their closet, trying to get to the back of the crowded and messy thing in hopes that their formal clothes are indeed where he thinks they are.

"Formal-formal," Louis replies from the bathroom. He has got a towel around his waist and another on his head, where he is quickly trying to stop it from dripping water down his soon to be air dried body.

"Slacks it is, then." Harry mutters to himself. He finally gets to the chest that's shoved to the back of the closet, and he pulls out two pairs of slacks, one grey and the other a dark, navy blue. He lays them out on the bed, and calls out again, "black or white tops?"

Louis steps out of the bathroom bare bummed, and immediately goes to their drawers to dig for a pair of tight fitting pants to cover his bum but to also hopefully leave no seam lines. Once he finds a pair, he turns around and steps into them, eyeing the two different types of tops. "Um," he starts, "white?"

Harry hums in response, laying out the two white button downs.

"Panties?" Louis asks, scratching his tummy and watching his boyfriend scramble around the room bare bummed.

"Something comfy."

Louis knows immediately which pair to get. They're cotton and pink and he tosses them to the bed where the other clothing items lay.

Harry smiles thankfully, and takes them to shimmy up his thighs. Louis grabs his pair of the trouser pants, the dark navy blue pair, and begins pulling them on with a huff.

"I knew I shouldn't have let you blow me."

Harry snorts, pulling up his own pair of grey slacks, smirking at Louis. "I have never heard anyone say that before."

"Shut it, Styles," Louis starts, ignoring Harry's mutter of 'yeah, you know how to do that', and continuing with a small glare, "now we're rushing to get ready because our post-come naps go on for hours."

Harry rolls his white button up over his shoulders, laughing at Louis who is buttoning his up with a frown. "You are the one who got hard against my thigh. I was just trying to watch Top Gear, you horny idiot."

Louis shrugs once he has his shirt on, and smiles up at Harry, taking the few steps across the room to stand in front of him, "I just couldn't help it," he murmurs dramatically, "I was starring at those pretty red lips of yours."

Harry snorts, and reaches down to pull Louis' fly up. "You better keep that thing put away," he leans in and pecks Louis' lips once, then twice because it's impossible to just kiss him once, before he pulls away. "Now, are you gonna wear a tie or a bow tie?"

"Bow ties are ridiculous. I question every day why I date a boy who owns so many of them."

"Oh," Harry mutters under his breath as he digs through another drawer, "I'm sure you do."

They walk to the campus shoulder to shoulder, their hands stuffed in their trouser pockets, butterflies stuffed down their throats. It's going to be reuniting faces and new faces, and there's no room for hushed voices in between them at the moment, though they wish there were.

There is a line of people outside the building where the art showing is taking place, parents and students and important people to sponsor potentials. The building is covered in big yellow bulbs that glow in the slightly darkening sky, and a soft piano can be heard filtering from speakers on the inside. It's soft and beautiful, the low melody of fabricated feelings into sound, and Louis can't help but to take his hand out of his pocket and hold it out for Harry to finally take.