Larry Stylinson: These Arms Were Made For Holding You

Chapter 7: Louis

The following morning, I woke with a killer headache and the feeling of someone pressed to my chest. Having not remembered what had occurred the night before, I wouldn't have been able to tell you that it was Harry who had curled up on my chest.

As I opened my eyes, I saw the younger boy fast asleep, cuddled onto my bare chest. He looked unbelievably peaceful, like everything was jolly and good. Like he wasn't holding the weight of the world on his shoulders. Like he was happy.

 And then the previous night's events came back to me. The drinks, the flirting, and the sex. The last time I'd been that intimate with anyone had been Harry years ago. And then there was Harry mumbling that he loved me as he fell asleep. I knew he was drunk, but a part of me hoped that one day he would find the courage to tell me without the influence of alcohol. I wanted the chance to be this imperfect little family with him and Darcy, but I knew he already had someone for that position. I didn't know her, but if Harry was her dad then everything would be perfect for the little girl. 

"Daddy," a little voice called from the doorway. I glanced up at the little girl in the doorframe. She definitely looked like him. Her eyes were a bright green, just like Harry's, and the little hair she had was dark and curled in a way Harry's had when he was her age.

"Hmmm," he'd hummed, still mostly asleep on me.

"Snuggles," she'd asked, her little hopeful green eyes looking up to where the two of us lay. Harry had simply lifted an arm for his daughter to climb under. She took the opportunity to scramble up onto the bed and cuddled underneath Harry's arm and into Louis' side.

"My two favorite people," Harry had murmured, still half-asleep. His words meant one thing, but his actions in the following weeks, meant an entirely different thing. I wanted to believe that he wanted this and wanted me, but he never acted like it was anything more than a drunken hookup.