You're the only one breaking me down like this. [One shot]
Fandom: One Direction.
Pairing: Harry/Louis.
Word Count: 1,141
Summary: Five-time, kissing kind of thing.
Harry and Louis wear each other like they’re the same size. It’s like their bones have been constructed to fit into the spaces of each other, the spaces that no one else can reach.
The first time it happens is kind of cliché. It’s New Year’s Eve and they’re both spectacularly drunk. Harry can hear the other boys screaming at them from the living room. The clock is about to hit twelve and Louis is edging towards the door, holding onto Harry’s hand, pulling him closer and drunkenly mumbling something about how they should go back. But, it’s almost twelve o’clock, it’s New Year ’s Eve and Harry doesn’t want to be anywhere else, he doesn’t want to be anywhere but with Louis. In fact, it could be any time, on any day and Harry would want to be where Louis is because Louis is always his favourite place to be.
So, they kiss and there’s no fireworks exploding except for the ones outside. Time doesn’t slow down and there are no slow motion hand movements. But, their lips sink into each other like that’s where they’re supposed to be and Harry knows that he never wants to be anywhere else again.
Louis is magic. Louis is the feeling of being at Disneyland when you’re a kid. Louis is Christmas morning. He’s all genuine-laughter and ocean-eyed and Harry loves every thread that holds his bones together.
The second time they kiss, Harry is close enough to see the faded freckles on Louis’ skin, the parts of himself that no one else can see or know. Harry likes it there, likes knowing that there are pieces of Louis that belong to him and only him. Louis is chirping on about the concert they just finished and Harry can’t help but smile because that’s what Louis does when he’s excited, he doesn’t just speak, he chirps. Like every word holds some kind of happiness pill and Louis has overdosed on them all. Harry thinks that sometimes Louis chirps when he talks about him too.
“You have the prettiest lips.” Harry says.
And they’re sinking again, into each other, skin against skin, bones clattering against each other and everything fitting into place.
“Your lips aren’t half bad either.” Louis breathes.
Louis has a new girlfriend. She leaves her clothes on the bathroom floor and doesn’t clean up after she cooks but she’s sweet, even if she is around their flat a little too much for Harry’s liking. Louis’ smile is different now, wider and he doesn’t hide when he’s with her like she’s a secret that he’s too afraid of the world finding out. Harry wonders if she tastes different, if there’s something about the way she kisses Louis that tastes like the courage that neither of them ever had. Harry doesn’t smile as much, he soon finds out that the worst thing about life is watching the person that you love, love someone else. What makes it even worse, in Harry’s case, is that the person he loves is his best friend. He can get close but he can never get close enough. If Louis is in love with her then Harry settles for his heart being used as target practice.
The third kiss is much like the first, sloppy and drunk but this time, Harry knows that it’s a mistake that Louis is going to regret making. They’d had a fight, Louis and her, Harry stopped thinking of her name a while ago, he thought maybe if he erased that then the thoughts of them together would go away. They didn’t. Louis is on Harry’s bed, they’re beside each other, where they should be and he’s ranting about how she’s not right.
“I thought she was like you but she’s not, she’s missing something.” Louis’ voice is low and Harry stops himself from asking if what she’s missing is a penis.
Everything comes to a red-light and Harry’s not sure what he missed because Louis is on top of him now. Pressing his lips against Harry’s, if joints were jigsaws then Louis would be all of his misplaced and missing pieces. There are words like “want” and “you” falling from Louis’ lips, his skin is boiling, eager. Harry digs his fingers into Louis’ back like his skin is wet cement, like his fingerprints won’t ever wash away. Everything feels possible again.
They break up two days before their new album is released. Louis’ smile is back to normal and Harry likes it that way. He likes the Louis that he knows. They’re performing a single from the album on some breakfast TV show. It’s 7am and Louis is wearing those stupid suspenders. They’re sharing a dressing room. It’s tiny and cramped and Harry can’t stop staring at the suspenders and Louis’ lips.
There’s something about intimacy that feels like an open fire on a cold day. The fourth kiss is like that. Hot, steamy, all cramped together and rushed. Harry pulls on Louis’ suspenders and pushes him against the egg-shell coloured wall. It’s not special, it’s not romantic, it’s urgent and Harry needs it. He needs Louis.
“Kissing me before we’re going on TV? Getting mischievous, Styles. “ Louis winks as he walks out the door.
Louis is where Harry goes when everything feels like it’s turning upside down. Louis is the place where his blood rushes from his head and everything settles. Louis, despite all of his spark, is the place Harry goes to when he needs to feel calm.
They’re having tea, which isn’t uncommon considering how many litres of the stuff Louis drinks on any given day. Jeremy Kyle is on TV and they’re snuggled up on the sofa, all limbs pressed together and legs dangled over each other.
“We just fit together, don’t we, Harry?” Louis says.
There’s a commercial on TV selling car insurance and it’s not exactly the most romantic or perfect moment to say what he’s about to say but, there’s something about now, something that makes Harry believe that if he doesn’t say it then he probably never will and he’s so sick of not saying things.
“Louis,” He says, watching Louis take another casual drink from his mug, “I think I might be in love with you.”
Louis just nods as if Harry is reading the TV guide or asking if he wanted to get take-away for dinner, “Yeah, I think I might be in love with you, too.”
The fifth kiss is everything that the other kisses weren’t. It’s crashing and electric and it’s everything that they are when they’re together and Harry knows that his lips were made for Louis’. He knows that every step he’s taken since the first time he saw Louis has been leading to this kiss and this, this is his new favourite place to be with Louis.
Pairing: Harry/Louis.
Word Count: 1,141
Summary: Five-time, kissing kind of thing.
Harry and Louis wear each other like they’re the same size. It’s like their bones have been constructed to fit into the spaces of each other, the spaces that no one else can reach.
The first time it happens is kind of cliché. It’s New Year’s Eve and they’re both spectacularly drunk. Harry can hear the other boys screaming at them from the living room. The clock is about to hit twelve and Louis is edging towards the door, holding onto Harry’s hand, pulling him closer and drunkenly mumbling something about how they should go back. But, it’s almost twelve o’clock, it’s New Year ’s Eve and Harry doesn’t want to be anywhere else, he doesn’t want to be anywhere but with Louis. In fact, it could be any time, on any day and Harry would want to be where Louis is because Louis is always his favourite place to be.
So, they kiss and there’s no fireworks exploding except for the ones outside. Time doesn’t slow down and there are no slow motion hand movements. But, their lips sink into each other like that’s where they’re supposed to be and Harry knows that he never wants to be anywhere else again.
Louis is magic. Louis is the feeling of being at Disneyland when you’re a kid. Louis is Christmas morning. He’s all genuine-laughter and ocean-eyed and Harry loves every thread that holds his bones together.
The second time they kiss, Harry is close enough to see the faded freckles on Louis’ skin, the parts of himself that no one else can see or know. Harry likes it there, likes knowing that there are pieces of Louis that belong to him and only him. Louis is chirping on about the concert they just finished and Harry can’t help but smile because that’s what Louis does when he’s excited, he doesn’t just speak, he chirps. Like every word holds some kind of happiness pill and Louis has overdosed on them all. Harry thinks that sometimes Louis chirps when he talks about him too.
“You have the prettiest lips.” Harry says.
And they’re sinking again, into each other, skin against skin, bones clattering against each other and everything fitting into place.
“Your lips aren’t half bad either.” Louis breathes.
Louis has a new girlfriend. She leaves her clothes on the bathroom floor and doesn’t clean up after she cooks but she’s sweet, even if she is around their flat a little too much for Harry’s liking. Louis’ smile is different now, wider and he doesn’t hide when he’s with her like she’s a secret that he’s too afraid of the world finding out. Harry wonders if she tastes different, if there’s something about the way she kisses Louis that tastes like the courage that neither of them ever had. Harry doesn’t smile as much, he soon finds out that the worst thing about life is watching the person that you love, love someone else. What makes it even worse, in Harry’s case, is that the person he loves is his best friend. He can get close but he can never get close enough. If Louis is in love with her then Harry settles for his heart being used as target practice.
The third kiss is much like the first, sloppy and drunk but this time, Harry knows that it’s a mistake that Louis is going to regret making. They’d had a fight, Louis and her, Harry stopped thinking of her name a while ago, he thought maybe if he erased that then the thoughts of them together would go away. They didn’t. Louis is on Harry’s bed, they’re beside each other, where they should be and he’s ranting about how she’s not right.
“I thought she was like you but she’s not, she’s missing something.” Louis’ voice is low and Harry stops himself from asking if what she’s missing is a penis.
Everything comes to a red-light and Harry’s not sure what he missed because Louis is on top of him now. Pressing his lips against Harry’s, if joints were jigsaws then Louis would be all of his misplaced and missing pieces. There are words like “want” and “you” falling from Louis’ lips, his skin is boiling, eager. Harry digs his fingers into Louis’ back like his skin is wet cement, like his fingerprints won’t ever wash away. Everything feels possible again.
They break up two days before their new album is released. Louis’ smile is back to normal and Harry likes it that way. He likes the Louis that he knows. They’re performing a single from the album on some breakfast TV show. It’s 7am and Louis is wearing those stupid suspenders. They’re sharing a dressing room. It’s tiny and cramped and Harry can’t stop staring at the suspenders and Louis’ lips.
There’s something about intimacy that feels like an open fire on a cold day. The fourth kiss is like that. Hot, steamy, all cramped together and rushed. Harry pulls on Louis’ suspenders and pushes him against the egg-shell coloured wall. It’s not special, it’s not romantic, it’s urgent and Harry needs it. He needs Louis.
“Kissing me before we’re going on TV? Getting mischievous, Styles. “ Louis winks as he walks out the door.
Louis is where Harry goes when everything feels like it’s turning upside down. Louis is the place where his blood rushes from his head and everything settles. Louis, despite all of his spark, is the place Harry goes to when he needs to feel calm.
They’re having tea, which isn’t uncommon considering how many litres of the stuff Louis drinks on any given day. Jeremy Kyle is on TV and they’re snuggled up on the sofa, all limbs pressed together and legs dangled over each other.
“We just fit together, don’t we, Harry?” Louis says.
There’s a commercial on TV selling car insurance and it’s not exactly the most romantic or perfect moment to say what he’s about to say but, there’s something about now, something that makes Harry believe that if he doesn’t say it then he probably never will and he’s so sick of not saying things.
“Louis,” He says, watching Louis take another casual drink from his mug, “I think I might be in love with you.”
Louis just nods as if Harry is reading the TV guide or asking if he wanted to get take-away for dinner, “Yeah, I think I might be in love with you, too.”
The fifth kiss is everything that the other kisses weren’t. It’s crashing and electric and it’s everything that they are when they’re together and Harry knows that his lips were made for Louis’. He knows that every step he’s taken since the first time he saw Louis has been leading to this kiss and this, this is his new favourite place to be with Louis.