Helpless (( Larry Stylinson Fan Fiction ))

Chapter Eleven - Keep Holding On

Keep Holding On by Avril Lavigne

     Harry's eyelashes fluttered open the next morning, his arms still loosely draped across Louis' fit body.  He grunted, eyelashes fluttering as he took in the unfamiliar scenery.  It was hot, and his body was sticky with all the humidity that was flowing into the hotel room through the window.  Burying his face deeper into the spot between Louis' shoulders, he tried to ignore the heat radiating off of their bodies and just enjoy the moment.  Unfortunately, it didn't last as long as he thought and soon the bed began to grow too hot for Harry to bare.  He sat upright, rubbing the heels of his palms into his eye sockets and swinging his legs off the side of the mattress.  Approaching the window, he stuck his head out of it and gazed out across the ocean view that the hotel room provided.  The soft blue-looking waves lapped hungrily at the dock posts, causing the rotting wood to rattle and groan under the pressure.  Pelicans were, surprisingly, swarming around for a morning snack - constantly swooping down and coming up with the occasional fish - and the sun was beginning to rise.  Harry assumed that it was early, probably around 7 AM, considering the fact that the streaks of multiple colours were stroked across the bright blue sky.  Shades of orange, yellow, pink, and even purple were mingling together to create the most beautiful scenery that the curly-haired boy had ever seen.  He took a deep breath, inhaling the heated hair and letting his eyelids flutter shut at the delicious smells that over-took his senses.  Harry was so distracted that he hardly even heard the shuffling of the sheets or the creak of the wooden floor to signal the fact that Louis had woken, until he felt a pair of warm arms wrap around his waist.  He flinched in surprise, twisting his head around to offer Louis a small smile before he glanced back up at the sky, "S'really pretty."  He whispered; voice thick with a layer of sleep.

From behind him, Louis smiled and nosed his way into the boy's curls with a deep sigh of contentment.  He very well knew that they were probably going to get into shit tomorrow for running off, as well as the fact that they were going to have to explain everything that had happened to both of them.  Louis took a deep, shaky breath; letting it out to brush across Harry's nape in an attempt to calm himself of the worries that were taking over his system.  The younger boy turned on his heel, dropping his hands to curl them around the boy's waist and pull him closer until their chests were pressed flush against one another.  Their lips were parted, the sun's orange glare streaming in through the opened window and illuminating both of their faces into a golden, sun-kissed colour.  Their breaths mingled together, as if they were dancing, and then Harry was dipping down to close the final distance between them.

For some reason, both of the boy's were completely floored by the way that this kiss seemed to seem completely more... reliable than the rest that they had shared.  It was slow, sweet, and just plain passionate.  Louis' smaller hands reached up to catch Harry's neck in his grasp, pressing the pads of his fingers into his nape and playing with the curls that were embedded into the porcelain skin.  He parted his lips, nostrils flaring with the effort to draw oxygen into his burning lungs while keeping their lips pressed together in most delicate kiss.  Harry tipped his head to the left, slotting their mouths against each other in a more comfortable way.  His eyelids fluttered shut, and Louis' were quick to follow.  The sun's glow was still reflecting off of their skin, the ocean lapping hungrily against the dock's wood beneath them.  Both of their stomachs were swarmed with butterflies, heartbeat humming in their chests almost dangerously while their lips met each other in the most unique sort of dance.  Unfortunately, all songs needed to end and Louis was the first to pull back from the kiss - panting and gasping of air hectically.  His index and middle finger were pressed tightly against the loose strands of hair - lips swollen red in the most delicious way, in Harry's opinion.