Silenced- A Larry Stylinson Story

Chapter 7- POV Louis: We Took A Chonce

Harry and I are laying down on the floor in my room, gazing deeply into each other's eyes. My heart is beating remarkably fast and I am vigorously sweating. 

Harry looks... scared, almost? Hmm. Our faces are inches away from each other and we are both smiling like dorks. We stare into each other's eyes for what feels like hours but must only be seconds. I feel so... 

...safe.

"Harry?" I whisper.

"Yes, Lou?" He responds.

"Can I tell you something?" I ask, surveying his face.

"Of course."

"I have never told anyone this before, so-" I pull him into a sitting position. We are sitting cross-legged on the floor across from each other.

"It's okay. You can tell me anything." He reaches out and takes my hand. His hands are still soft and strong, just like they felt the first day we met. My heart flutters and my hands get sweaty, but so are his, so I decide not to pull away.

I take a deep breath before saying, "Harry... I'm gay." I let out a big sigh of relief. I have finally told someone my biggest secret. 

Not just someone, my crush. 

No, not just the guy who is my crush. 

The guy who I love. But I can't tell him that.

My heart is still beating a-mile-a-minute and I look down at my lap. Why isn't he saying anything? "Cat got your tongue?" It takes what feels like an eternity for him to speak.

"No, sorry, I- I'm just surprised. Um- uh- Louis, can I ask you something?" I nod sweetly and look at him, curious. 

He fumbles with the rings on his right hand and then asks, "How did you know?" The question catches me off guard. 

I take a second to think about it and respond carefully. "I knew because... because having a crush on a girl has never been a thing for me. I have only ever had crushes on guys and I only ever will. It's all about feelings- what's inside. It isn't something that has happened to me and made me this way and it isn't a part of me that I can or will try to get rid of. I'm simply attracted to guys and... and I'm not able to choose that. Sure, my life would be a heck of a lot easier if I was straight, but I can't change that. It's a part of me. So I have accepted that I'm gay and I am trying my hardest to embrace that, but it's- it's really freaking hard." I admit. 

After some internal deliberation, I continue. "There was this one time I was getting attacked by pigeons," Harry looks at me intently when I mention this. My heartbeat speeds up even more. "and a really cute guy saved me from them. I knew I was in love with him because whenever I see him, I want to smother him in kisses and hold his hand. Whenever I see him, I get butterflies and I become really nervous. When I see him, I get the urge to hold him in my arms and never let go. I like him, a lot, but I don't know whether or not he likes me back. Harry- do- do you know if... does he like me back?"

Harry stares at me, his deep, green eyes full of solemnity, and looks down for a second to avoid eye contact.

I instantly regret my confession and my eyes well up. I have probably just ruined the most meaningful friendship I have ever had. Why did I have to do that?

I mentally prepare myself for a rejection, but suddenly our lips are crashing together, passionate, careless, and full of love. 

I am cradling his soft chin in my hands and I savor the perfect moment. 

Here I am, kissing the boy I have been hiding my love for. Here we are. Together. 

His hands rest on my hips and send tingles all down my spine. Lovingly, I reach up and caress his curly hair. 

I pull away for air and smile, leaning my nose against his, then give him one more gentle kiss before opening my eyes. 

Harry's are already wide open.

Suddenly, he stands up and sprints out of my bedroom, down the hall, and out the front door. I sit there, cross-legged, in the middle of my bedroom, lips still tingling from the most amazing kiss I have ever experienced, shocked. 

I grab my phone from the floor and call Harry. It goes straight to his voicemail. He doesn't want to talk to me. I try calling three more times, but he doesn't pick up. He doesn't even come back for the homework he left at my house. With one last ditch effort, I text him,

I'm sorry, Harry. What happened? Can we talk? Please?

I flop onto my bed with a sigh and replay the memory of us kissing over and over, going through each and every detail, trying to figure out why Harry ran away.

The moment was perfect: just us against the world.

Us, in our own little bubble, so passionate, so beautiful. 

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