(no subject)
Title: Reality (Part A)
Pairing: Harry/Louis (Larry Stylinson)
Summary: Love is a difficult thing. Sometimes it hurt, sometimes it was glorious, and sometimes you have to wait nearly four years for it to happen, but the wait is always worth it.
“Guys, I swear, it’s way better than it sounds. Trust me!” Niall exclaimed, trying not to laugh along with his band-mates who were currently in hysterics over the Irish lads explanation of the most bizarre sandwich anyone had ever heard of. Seriously, who puts pickle and chocolate spread together? Gross.
“Whatever, Ni. I’ll take your word for it.” chuckled Harry, his voice muffled slightly from where his face was pressed against Louis’ shoulder, attempting to hide his laughter.
The drives home from interviews were always hilarious. It reminded Harry of when he would go on school trips back when he was just a normal teenager. No matter how fun the actual trip was, the journeys there and back again were always the best parts.
Once the laughter had died down, the youngest member of the group tuned out of the conversation somewhat, nestling his head into the crook of Louis' neck as he felt lethargy creep over him.
“Tired?” a soft voice asked him, as the Doncaster lad began to rake his fingers through his hair gently.
“Hmm,” Harry hummed sleepily, not bothering to open his eyes.
“Take a nap, I’ll wake you up when we get there.”
He didn’t need telling twice. After murmuring a quiet ‘thanks, boobear,’ he lost track of all things around him, as he slipped into unconsciousness.
When he awoke again, the clock on the bedside table told him it had just gone one in the morning. It took him a minute to remember that he shouldn’t already be back at their apartment, that Louis was supposed to have woke him up.
“Lou?” he called out, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and walking across the room.
“Kitchen, Curly!”
Oh god, the Cheshire lad thought. Letting Louis loose in the kitchen was more dangerous than walking into a room willed with fan-girls in nothing more than your boxers. Speaking of, Harry pulled his shirt over his head as he walked, the feel of the material was starting to itch and the fact he had slept in that shirt was bugging him as he wore it. Besides, the cool air hitting his skin was liberating.
“How did we get back here?” he asked, rounding the corner and sighing with relief as he noticed that Louis was just sitting on the counter, eating a packet of crisps.
“By walking, duh.” the older boy rolled his eyes.
“But I was asleep.” Harry pointed out, moving to stand in between his friends legs.
“So I carried you in,” Louis shrugged, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. A soft smile made its way onto the curly haired boys face as he took in what was just said. Louis had carried him in. The fact that the shorter boy could support Harry’s strength shouldn’t have made a warm feeling settle low in his stomach, but it did. However, he pushed these thoughts away, not wanting to deal with what they could ultimately mean (even though he’d been having the same internal debate for nearly a month now), because he wasn’t gay. Neither of them were, so there was no point in over thinking things that obviously meant nothing.
Louis tried to ignore the goosebumps that rose over his skin as Harry rested his hands on his thighs, opening his mouth as the older boy fed him the last crisp of the packet, before scrunching it up and tossing it in the bin.
“Goal.”
Both boys smiled at each other for a second, before Harry sighed.
“Come on then, Snowflake. Busy day tomorrow; we should get some sleep.”
“Yes, sir!” saluted the older boy, hopping down from the counter and following Harry into his room. The younger teen raised an eyebrow, smirking as Louis shut the door behind him, pulling off his own shirt.
“What?” asked the Doncaster boy, as he dropped his top to the floor, moving to unbutton his chinos.
“Nothing” he smiled, turning his head to hide the grin that had spread across his face at the fact that Louis was sleeping with him tonight. Not in that sense, but still. It wasn’t as though they didn’t share a bed most nights, because they did, but they hardly ever started out in the same bed. They usually tried to sleep alone, only to have the other crawl in beside them about an hour later. Tonight, however, it seemed as though they were going to skip that step.
Harry kicked his jeans across the floor and climbed into bed, Louis following his lead only moments later. After a few seconds of shifting around to get comfortable, the curly haired boy leaned over Louis’ short body to flick off the bedside lamp, before leaving his arm draped over his friends torso, chin resting once more on his shoulder.
Most people might have found it strange that two teenage boys such as themselves would be so at ease sharing a bed like this, wearing only boxers, but they didn’t. It was just them. In fact, they’d find it weird if they weren’t all over each other, they were just touchy people.
Of course Harry hadn’t always been this way. He used to be reserved, a great believer in personal space. Anne had nearly had a heart attack when she visited him once during the X-factor, and Louis had randomly thrown his arms around him, pulling him in close. She had feared that Harry would push him away, indirectly offending him, but to say she was (pleasantly) surprised when her son did nothing but return the affection was an understatement. It seemed as though the boys changed a lot about each other. Over time, everyone noticed how Harry became more open, hugs became nearly second nature to him and he seemed happy, leaving behind the pessimistic attitude he had held when he had first auditioned. In return, Louis slowly became more confident, even earning a slight solo in their “So what” and “Forget you” performances. He never used to be sure of himself. Everyone knew that he was not only talented, but smart and utterly gorgeous, yet he hadn’t seen it. He still doubted himself sometimes, but now it took less time to convince him otherwise after a bad day.
Tomorrow saw yet another early start, the boys having multiple interviews to attend, plus a photo-shoot to endure. All five of them still couldn’t believe how lucky they were to have the opportunities that they had been given, yet it was still a bit much sometimes, and after the final lot of foundation and orders of “turn left… smile… okay, now back to the camera, that’s it… perfect!” were given out, they couldn’t wait to just collapse on the sofa and relax.
“Looking good, babycakes.” Louis commented, as Harry began to scrub at the foundation in front of the mirror in the toilets.
Harry couldn’t help but chuckle, flashing a smile in his direction.
“I know it helps to create an even skin tone, or whatever the hell it does, but why do they have to apply so much?” he asked, as he splashed his face with water one more time.
“Because, my dear Harry, they want to make your beautiful face look perfect on camera.” the Doncaster boy replied, failing miserably to rein in his laughter as he grabbed some tissue from a cubicle, and walked back over to his friend.
“Oh shut up, just because you’re so bloody gorgeous and only need the powdery stuff.” the younger lad retorted, shying away from where Louis was trying to reach him with the tissue.
“Haz, stand still.” the shorter boy demanded, placing a hand behind Harry’s neck in order to keep him in place. Harry raised his eyebrows but remained where he was nonetheless. It wasn’t really a shock when Louis raised the tissue and used to to gently rub away the remaining make-up from around Harry’s eyes and mouth, letting his thumb brush over the younger boy’s bottom lip as he finished.
“Thanks…” Harry whispered, not wanting to speak too loud and risk breaking the atmosphere that had built up around them. There was something in the air that felt too familiar to both of them, that they didn’t want to name. Louis hadn’t even noticed that his hands were trembling until the younger boy reached up and entwined their fingers together, bringing their joined hands to rest by their sides.
“I…”
“Guys, car’s leaving, come on!” Zayn shouted, poking his head through the door. The boys automatically took a step away from each other, not noticing how close they had actually been standing. There had been a mere millimetre between them, if that, before they were interrupted.
“Yeah,” Harry cleared his throat, letting go of Louis hand (trying to ignore how he missed the heat from his palm pressed against his own,) “we’re coming.”
Despite what nearly happened in the toilets, (what did nearly happen? Harry had to keep asking himself the same thing for the rest of the day,) there was no awkwardness between the boys at all. Zayn had just classed the whole thing as another one of those “Larry” moments, completely forgetting about it the minute they were in the car, and Louis seemed to be acting as though nothing had happened, which unnerved Harry more than he cared to admit. Despite this, the day progressed as normal, and by night time, both boys were curled up around each other in the younger boys bed, sleeping dreamlessly.
It was a month before another questionable encounter happened. They were filming an interview on Alan Carr, and by stroke of luck the two teens found themselves sitting next to each other. Ten minutes in, and they had answered all of the routine questions, (“Any plans for the holidays?” “do you get this much attention everywhere you go?” “Any girlfriends?”) as well as some that the fans had sent it, and had answered respectively, the smile never leaving their face. It was the second time that they had been on the show, and they could honestly say that Alan was a friend, almost. It was the final question which caused Harry and Louis to finally accept that there was something different about their relationship. They had both been aware of a change, ever since that day in the toilets, but they didn’t want to admit it. It seemed that now, they had no choice.
“Right, so we need to wrap this up boys, because we’ve got the lovely John Barrowman on next and I need to work on my pick-up lines, hoping to get some backstage, if you catch my drift” he said, adding an over-exaggerated wink.
“But we do have one last question. Now, this one comes from @LarryLourryisLegitLove… gosh, try saying that when you’re drunk! Not that you’d know Harry, because you’re only seventeen, aren’t you.”
The curly haired lad ducked his head, laughing a little. It was almost a traditional joke to take the piss out of his age by now, so he wasn’t really phased by it. And no, he was not blushing because of the twitter name. Honestly.
“Right, so she wants to know, or at least I’m presuming it’s a she, ‘When are Louis and Harry going to admit that they’re in love with each other?’”
Louis froze. The grin on his face started to feel fake, and by the way Harry tensed under his arm (which had ended up around his shoulders somewhere during the interview,) he knew that whatever the feeling was that had been sparked within him at that question, was mutual. He didn’t know if that was a good thing or not.
The laughter that had erupted from the rest of their band-mates had now died down, and it seemed as though all eyes in the world were upon them, waiting for their answer.
“I, uhh…” Harry cleared his throat, plastering on his trademark grin once again.
“Well, we tell each other that we love each other all the time, don’t we Boobear?” he cooed, pinching Louis’ cheek.
“Yes, yes we do!” The smile was back now, and not as fake as before. Louis kept telling himself that it had nothing to do with how Harry’s fingertips brushed against his neck as he let his hand drop from his cheek, but he knew it was pointless. Something had changed between them, hell, he was starting to wonder whether anything had changed, or whether it had always been like this, but they just failed to realise it. He still wasn’t sure what “this” was.
“It’s all about your bromance, ain’t it lads.” Alan chuckled, putting down the cards with the questions on, as he finished talking.
His words echoed in Harry’s ears as they made their way through the corridors to their dressing room.
Bromance.
He was in a daze as he changed back into his normal clothes, not paying attention to the world around him. Why did that word make him feel as though he was going to be sick? It never had before. He had always taken the term in his stride, he had always been proud of their bromance. Now, he felt as though the eight letters were suffocating him.
“Hey, Haz, can I talk to you for a minute?” the youngest boy looked up to see Louis leaning against the door frame, tilting his head as a suggestion for them to go outside.
Part 2