Homophobic (l.s)

Chapter 21

Harry's back is pressed into the door so hard he can feel the coolness seeping through his uniform. His brain is slowly registering what is taking place. The only thing he can really focus on is the fact is heart rate has accelerated through the roof. He can feel Louis' breathing heavy through the kiss. He smells coffee and cigarettes. The scent would usually turn Harry off, but in this case, it's Louis. Coffee and Cigarettes are Louis. Louis' hands suddenly cup Harry's face, and Harry can feel everything. He can feel each finger pressing into his skin. He can feel each bump and every callus. Louis feels so warm, it's almost like Harry's touching the sun. Louis' heat is everywhere. Louis is everywhere. Harry is reeling. Louis' tongue flickers into Harry's mouth and Harry is beginning to come undone. He's never felt a moment so intense like this. He's like putty in Louis' hands.

Louis' lips are warm cushions, a feeling that Harry knows is already addictive. The stubble tickles but scratches his skin in the right way. Louis' hands are in his hair, and Harry can't help the deep throated groan that escapes his lips when Louis gently tugs on the hair at the back of his head. There's no distance between them. Louis is pressed up against him, and he can feel every part of him. Everything is playing in slow motion for Harry. He tries to focus on this moment and how he could stay in this moment for the rest of his life. He manages to get a grip of Louis' hair when Louis pulls away.

Harry quickly blinks a couple times, and the room is spinning. His heart is thudding loudly in his ears, but he can see Louis breathing heavily. Harry swears he can hear Louis' heart too. He can hear them both gasping for air. It's silent. Louis' eyes rake Harry's face for a reaction, as if he's processing what had just taken place. Harry can't take his eyes off him. Louis looks as if he's been struck by lightning. His lips are dark pink, and slightly swollen. His hair is a mess, and Harry can't help but look at his eyes. And Jesus fuck. His eyes.

They're the darkest shade of blue he thinks he's ever seen on a person. It's like staring into the deepest part of the ocean from above. His pupils are dilated, and they're flickering around Harry's face, and possibly his body too.

The air is so thick with tension it's almost enough to strangle them. The realisation and anxiety are settling in and fast. Harry can still taste Louis in his mouth. It's so sweet but bitter at the same time. He anxiously bites his lip. It's only been a few seconds since Louis had pulled away, but it feels like it's been minutes. Louis clenches his jaw and closes his eyes, exhaling slowly. The look of dread suddenly setting into his features.

"Fuck," Louis' voice is low, as he runs a hand through his hair.

Harry doesn't know what to say, and he has a feeling he shouldn't open his mouth anyway. He's scared to open his mouth. He's never felt this intimidated in his life. He knows Louis has a temper and this situation will surely be the cherry on top. Harry swallows deeply, and tries to focus on calming his own body down. He wants to slap himself because his brain is yearning to grab Louis and have his mouth back on his.

You're such a fucking virgin.

Harry's internal voice is literally scoffing at him. It's true. He's the biggest virgin in the world, and his reaction to a bloody kiss like that just proves it. He's embarrassed. But he's trying not to focus on the voice, he'd much rather focus on the actual issue in front of him. Louis looking like he's about to have a nuclear meltdown.

"I'm sorry," Louis' voice is weak.

Harry's eyes widen, and he opens his mouth to speak but the words won't come out. They're trapped in his throat. He swallows thickly again and focuses on speaking. His anxiety being triggered even more so than before.