Little Things // A Larry Stylinson Faniction

Fourteen

It awes me how much three words can change someone's feelings towards you.

"When you told her," he explains, "when you told Gemma you loved me, I didn't know what to do. Yes, I-I did sleep with Eleanor. And I regret it!" He adds quickly, "I truly do regret it. I just needed to get my mind off of things. And I guess it worked- for a bit, anyway." He cringes, despising his choice of words. I watch him scrunch his little button nose up in frustration, and I grin. It's slightly endearing and heartwarming, watching him try to put his feelings into words. He's not used to it- I can tell by his face: his eyes keep flicking down, and he bites his lips every so often. I wish he would feel comfortable with me. I will for him to, with my feet in his lap, us bundled up together on the sofa, and him 'explaining'. I don't exactly know what he's explaining- all he said was that I deserved an explanation. It's like the story of his life, I guess. To be honest, I don't think I've ever heard him talk this much, which is saying something. It makes me warm inside, knowing he trusts me with all of this. I think Helios has truly replaced my insides- I've been beaming all morning, a small smile never leaving my face. It's nice for a change. I think there's also specks of Helios in Louis, too. Every now and again, I get this kind of sunshine smile. He just beams at me, all his features lighting up. It's truly beautiful- his eyes are clear blue, and full of light, and have crinkles in the corners, and his nose slightly scrunches up into that cute little thing it does, and his lips, oh, his lips, they curl up so perfectly, and they're so red, it's like he was kissed by a field of poppies. I love it when he gives me his sunshine smile. He's giving it to me right now, as I nod along to his little monologue.

"It's like, I dunno. It's like I was just shown something that I'd never known, and it scared the fuck outta me. I went into panic mode- it's just my nature." I can tell he's beating himself up about it- he gets fidgety and his motions become more aggressive. His sleeves slide up his arm, and I can see the remnants of ugly red gashes down his left arm. I go pale.

"Lou," I trail off, not knowing where to go with it. Do I confront him about it? Do I leave it? Did I cause it? It hurts again- that pain in my chest I had when I thought Louis didn't love me back. He looks at me questioningly, until he sees my eyes gazing at his wrists. He defensively clutches his left wrist, making sure his sleeve doesn't slide up again.

"They're-it's-I'm-nothing. Nothing. It's fine." He stammers, his eyes going cloudy.

"Lou, are you sure? Are you okay? I-"

"I'm fine, Haz. Nothing to worry your pretty little head off." What he says, it angers me slightly. I'm not just a pretty face, I'm not just an object to acquire. I am human- yet I am treated as if I am a pretty doll. I have feelings; I feel so deeply. Yet people underestimate me.

"Louis, I- Are you sure?" Yet I don't know what to say. I fumble for words, and before I can form a proper sentence, Louis has already replied.

"Drop it, Haz," he says softly- too softly, "just drop it." I nod, understanding. It's already too much, me being here in his lap. I can't add anything other shit onto him. It's suddenly bittersweet- we're all broken, aren't we? And there's nothing we can do about it. Not even a shitty love story is going to fix everything. And that's what I'm scared about. What if my love is not enough for him? I hate it- the fact I can't help or do anything. I'm so useless half the time, fretting over the smallest details, and in the end, not being any help at all.

We were so happy, five minutes ago, and now we sit in a silence, Louis subtly caressing his wrists, and me, massaging my temples. Time is incoherent nowadays. Things swell up inside of me- thoughts, words, anything stupid thing that comes to my mind. It just gets louder and louder, a raucous chorus screaming gibberish. But I know what it means-

Maybe some things can't be fixed.

Maybe some people weren't meant to be loved.