Love For Loan - Larry Stylinson

Chapter Sixteen

HIII :D we hope you guys are sharing our enthusiasm, really. because omg we got to a thousand votes! thank you guys so much for voting and all <3 (and the last time we updated it wasn't even 900 and now like, wowww) we love you all, seriously, you're all so nice and your comments always make us smile when we have to get up on early monday mornings hahaah XD

anyway, yay for updating on time :D we hope you like this just as much as...i don't know? the previous one? :)

~~~

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

"I like when you get jealous," Harry smirks, and he still can't believe this is real, that Louis is standing in front of him and, hell; he hadn't even expected Louis to be at the damn party, but Louis had came and gotten all aggressive at Zayn, and Harry had to admit it was really really hot.

It feels like role reversal now, and he likes watching Louis struggle, at a loss for words. “You’re insufferable,” he mumbles, and Harry shrugs, tightening his grip on Louis’ waist. He can’t seem to let go, doesn’t want to let go ever because Louis makes him so happy.

“But you love me and I mean so much to you,” he counters, grinning stupidly and pulling Louis towards him for another kiss. He’s never been as forward as this, he thinks, as he lets his eyes flutter close, savouring the feeling of Louis’ lips on his, soft and tentative. Maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe he’s just Louis-drunk. That’s cheesy, he thinks, and he laughs to himself, breaking away.

“You’re crazy,” Louis says, but he’s smiling too, and he pries the bunched up fabric of his shirt from Harry’s grip. “C’mon, let’s go home,” he says, reaching for Harry’s hand, and they’re halfway out the door when he freezes. “I – I mean, home, like, um –”

But Harry shakes his head and it’s only when they’re seated in Louis’ car (the red Porsche this time, Harry notes. Interesting) that he starts to speak. “It’s fine, Lou,” Harry reassures, squeezing his hand, but Louis looks worried. “Are you sure? I know I’ve been a real jerk and…” He sighs, trailing off.

“Drive,” Harry says. “We can talk on the way right?”

So Louis nods and turns the engine on, and they’re squealing out of the makeshift parking lot by the side of the house.

Louis had to let go of Harry’s hand to start the car and now he obviously doesn’t have any free hands, otherwise they’d have already crashed into one of those trees by the roadside, and now Harry feels strangely empty and fidgety. They’re silent for a while, and the radio isn’t even switched on. The car is cruising along at a comfortable speed now, and it’s absolutely silent. Pin-drop silence.

“I’m sorry.” Harry breaks the silence first, and he swears he feels the car jerk a bit, as if he had startled Louis. Just like the way his heart and his stomach feel all jumpy and unsettled. The shift in mood from barely ten minutes ago feels almost laughable.

After what feels like forever, Louis finally speaks, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry. And I miss you,” he says. “I missed you.” And Harry can see his hands are clenched on the steering wheel so tightly. “And I was a jerk,” he continues, and it’s almost like he’s disregarded anything Harry said before him.

“Me too, I was –“

“No, let me go first or I’ll never say it,” Louis cuts Harry off apologetically. The car stops at a red light but he continues to stare straight ahead.

“I was being stupid, you know? Remember that day you came over and you cooked linguine?” He asks, and Harry nods, but Louis doesn’t seem to want an answer, he just continues speaking anyway.

“Do you have any idea how nice that was? You were like, I – I don’t know. Young and innocent and just a really sweet boyfriend, and you know, nobody – none of my exes, I mean – have ever come over to cook lunch for me. Cook, Harry. You cooked me pasta, what was I supposed to do?” He smiles softly to himself, and then the light turns green and they’re off again. “I felt like I wasn’t appreciating you enough. I felt like such a jerk, you cared so much and I just sat there and let you do it all. And you didn’t deserve all the shit that happened in the papers and everything. Just because we were dating.”

“And it only served to point out to me how different we both are. You’re thoughtful and sincere and caring and I’m just a jerk. I’ve had everyone and anyone and you come along and you’re just different. I’m sorry I was so weird that day when you came over. And the subsequent days. But you weren’t helping, you just kept acting nicer and nicer and more and more thoughtful and I just thought you were too young and too naïve and I couldn’t break you like that.”

Harry can’t do anything but sit and let Louis talk, because that’s what he said to let him do. But every word Louis is saying is just making him feel guilty – he had no idea Louis had felt that way, he didn’t know, if he had known, their whole relationship would have played out so much more differently.

He wants to hug Louis. Wants to hold him tight and tell him it’s all okay, that he isn’t a jerk, he’s funny and lovable and generous and he puts his heart into everything he does, and that it doesn’t matter if he breaks Harry and walks away because if anyone is to break him or his heart, Harry would rather it be Louis than any other jerk on the street.

He just wants to tell Louis he loves him and he wants him back

“The worst part was that you were so confused. I tried to make it up to you; like that time we went kite flying, but then it struck me just how – I don’t know, how much I loved you. Or how young you were. And how you didn’t deserve the way I was treating you. And that just makes me act like a bigger jerk, like, a defence mechanism or something because I don’t want to hurt you more?”  Louis shrugs, and he looks so helpless and defeated and it makes Harry’s heart ache.

He hates seeing Louis like this, he’s never really seen it before, and to think that he’s the cause of it makes him feel even worse, it’s like something’s eating him up from the inside.

“And anyway, nobody ever stays with me for long. They all get sick of me. And what if I loved you too much and you just walked away one day? I guess I just can’t take relationships seriously, but you were the first person to ever make me feel like it was worth it.”

“So…yeah. I guess I was just being stupid and insecure. But you know, your lemon linguine was really good,” Louis cracks a small smile, and Harry can’t help but smile too, because everything about Louis is infectious. And not being with him for so long has just intensified that infectious part of his personality, so much so that everything he does affects Harry ten times more than it used to.

“I’m sorry, I…didn’t know,” Harry says softly. “I didn’t know what I was doing was making you feel that way, you could’ve told –“

“I couldn’t have told you, Harry. You’re so honest and sincere and I can’t tell you to stop being yourself, can I?” Louis actually laughs this time.

“Okay, fine, but I was still stupid, you know. I was oversensitive. You’re like, Louis Tomlinson, larger than life, with everything you could possibly want, and I’m Harry. Harry who’s can’t even think about what he’s going to have for lunch a month from now because he doesn’t the time or the money. And I keep thinking I’m not good enough, precisely because of that.”

They’ve stopped outside Louis’ house now, but he hasn’t cut the engine or unlocked the doors, so Harry keeps going.

“And more than half the time I’m inclined to believe what people say about you. They all seem to know so much about you, every aspect of your life, and I can’t even begin to understand what your life must be like. I didn’t even think I knew you properly and I just felt like I didn’t fit in your world sometimes.” Harry sighs, and somehow it feels like the air has been cleared a bit.

He doesn’t really know what to say. Now that he’s heard Louis’ side of the story, it doesn’t feel like he has anything to say anymore. It sounds like they had both been wrong, and there was just a lot of miscommunication and misunderstandings along the way. If Harry says anything now, it’s probably just going to come off as obnoxious and insensitive way too unjustified.

“But you do,” Louis says. “You think you don’t fit because…because all you see of my world – all you’ve seen so far – are the posh functions and the cameras and the magazines printing my stories because I’m supposedly a rich man’s son with a huge company under my name but I’m not,” he says wryly.

“I’m just Louis. I’m only just twenty-one. And I just want to live normally sometimes…and I just want you.”

Harry’s breath catches in his throat, but before he can say anything, Louis’ unbuckling his seatbelt and smiling at Harry. “Come in? We can have tea,” He suggests, and it’s such an absurd idea to have tea when it’s about 10 at night that Harry laughs. But he nods anyway, and he follows Louis out of the car.

The house looks different in the dark, but it feels the same once Louis’ flipped on the light switch. He tells Harry to make himself comfortable – and of course he heads for his ever familiar sofa, the one he always sits on when he’s here, and which he’s silently claimed as his.

He hears the ever familiar sound of Louis bustling around in the kitchen making tea, and he realises he’s never actually properly seen Louis make tea. Somehow Harry thinks it must be a beautiful sight

Louis is standing by the kitchen counter, his back to Harry, and Harry can see two cups neatly laid out in front of him, while Louis does - he doesn't know what Louis is doing, actually. Harry's not sure he even knows how to make tea. Louis would probably be disappointed at that, he thinks.

"Are you watching me?" He suddenly asks, and Harry jumps. "I had no idea you had eyes on your back," he shoots back quickly.

"I felt someone's eyes on me," Louis replies, not breaking focus from what looks to Harry to be an extremely complicated process of tea making. "Must be you, unless you let a stranger into my house."

"Well, I missed this, you know," Harry offers quietly. "You, making tea for me." It feels like a confession of sorts, and maybe it is, it feels like the closest he's ever come to saying 'I love you', which he somehow can't say, but maybe tonight he will.

"And I missed you too, obviously," he tacks on, after a split second's pause.

"You actually have to think about that and add it as an afterthought?" Louis asks incredulously, but there's a teasing edge to his voice.

"I thought it was a given," Harry smirks. He's getting better at this. He likes having something to say back to Louis.

"Somebody's bold today," Louis replies, and Harry can literally hear the grin in his voice, even though his back is still to him.

"Your jealousy set me off," Harry teases, and maybe he is being a bit mean, but he doesn't think he's ever going to get over Louis being jealous. It was priceless, and he tells Louis so.

"And a jealous Louis also makes for an unbelievably sexy Louis," he adds, just to poke fun at him, but also because it's true, of course. Louis makes a strange sound, like he's trying not to choke. "It does?" he asks carefully.

"It does," Harry confirms, coming around behind Louis and wrapping his arms around him. Louis startles, and his movements cease. "You're taking an awfully long time just for two cups of tea," Harry observes, and he hears – and feels – Louis take an unsteady breath. Harry realises he hasn't properly hugged Louis in a while and he takes the time to remember how it feels, their bodies moulded together as if Louis fits perfectly with him, like pieces of a jigsaw.

"You're distracting me," Louis whispers, his hands coming to rest over Harry's.

"That's the point," Harry whispers back, and Louis laughs. Harry feels the vibrations all through him, as if he was the one laughing.

"Are you drunk?" he asks, turning around in Harry's arms to face him with blue blue eyes - too blue, so blue they hurt, Harry thinks. He could jump into the blue and drown in them, probably. He feels in a sappy mood.

Harry hums in response to Louis' question. "I don't think so. Does happy count?"

Louis quirks an eyebrow. "Happy drunk? I don't think it exists, darling."

"Darling?" Harry laughs. "Where did you pick that up, now? Did you pick up every girl with that pet name?" He grins deviously.

"Only for you tonight," Louis winks, and Harry is hit by a strange feeling, one that punches all the air out of him and leaves his heart racing and his head spinning and his chest feeling too tight. Maybe this is how Louis felt when he said he realised how much he loved Harry. And it hurts, a little bit – okay, a lot – but a good kind of hurt.  

"I want you," he blurts out suddenly and Louis' eyes widen, but before he can say anything, Harry leaning down to kiss him, capturing his lips in a kiss that isn't like the ones before. This one isn't soft or sweet or longing or anything like that, this is something else. Desire and want, and it's hot and filthy as Louis pushes Harry away and he feels his back hit the wall.

"The - the tea," Harry interrupts, breathless, pushing Louis away for a brief moment.

"I don't think we want tea anymore," Louis mumbles back, staring at Harry wide eyed, and then he's back to attacking Harry's lips, and he can taste the remnants of the alcohol on Louis' tongue, can feel Louis' fingers tangling and tugging the hair at the nape of his neck.

It feels like they've never been pressed so close together before, and somehow when Louis pulls - or is Harry pushing, he doesn't know - them out of the kitchen, they don't trip over each other's feet, and it feels like they've been doing this forever. Harry wants do this forever, he thinks, as he lets Louis' tongue explore his mouth, warm and slow.

"Stop thinking," Louis says, and god, he looks, well, kissed, with too red and too swollen lips and messed hair and this is his. Stop thinking.

He takes the opportunity, pushing Louis towards the staircase and goes for the skin at his neck, kissing and biting at it as they stumble across the living room and Louis curses, fingers pulling at the tops of Harry's t-shirt.

Harry vaguely registers the feeling, not even when he feels them - he's not sure who - bump into the coffee table and something that sounds suspiciously like glass falls to the floor, all he cares about now is Louis.

"Oh fuck – Harry we broke –” Louis starts breathlessly, but cuts off, feeling the back of his feet hit the first step.

"We're breaking your bed," Harry grins, pulling away, satisfied with the very red mark he's left on Louis' neck and he watches blue eyes widen.

"Yeah, okay," Louis manages, like all the air's been sucked out of him, and he pulls Harry down, connecting their lips again as he drags him up the stairs.