Imprisoned In My Heart: A Larry Stylinson Fanfic

13.

Silent conversations were fast becoming Harry and Louis’ forte; there was something weirdly daring about flirting so boldly right underneath everyone’s noses, and even though it was probably dangerous and asking for trouble, it was so exciting and almost addictive in a way that they carried on without considering the consequences. Despite their obvious teasing and the longing looks that they gave each other whenever there was too much distance between them, nobody seemed to suspect a thing. This made Harry giddy; enamored with the idea of having a secret lover, he flaunted his attraction for Louis in front of everyone, unashamedly baiting Louis to a level that was unparalleled by anybody Louis had ever met before. He had considered himself a flirt; usually he would do completely outrageous things in the name of flirtation, but Harry was on a level of his own – Louis had to scold him for being too obvious on more than one occasion, such as when Harry had caught his eye from the other side of the room, winked at him, and mouthed ‘Hey gorgeous’ into the air, punctuating it with a kiss into the air. Luckily, nobody spotted the gesture, but Louis had lectured Harry for a good ten minutes during one of their sessions before a lighthearted remark caught him off guard and they had disintegrated back into silly banter once again.

Louis started living for his weekly twenty minutes with Harry; by fiddling with the clock in the hallway outside his office, he managed to sneak half an hour every session or sometimes more and the guards posted outside were none the wiser, although he had once seen Liam frowning in confusion and poking his watch on a very lucky day when they had managed a whole three quarters of an hour before Harry had been summoned and sent back to the main area with the other prisoners.

These precious moments they snatched together were filled with hours’ worth of conversation crammed into the space of a few minutes; each was determined to understand as much of the other as he could, and topics ranged from their families and friends to their favourite types of food. They were different in so many ways – and yet strikingly similar as well, and even though they never so much as held hands, Louis felt that he could trust Harry with anything. He shared secrets with him that he’d never have dreamed of telling anyone else, and in return Harry confided in him, until there was nothing much else to tell. That was when they truly relaxed around each other; knowing everything there was to know, they relaxed into an easy routine. Louis told Harry about silly things happening in the outside world, from celebrities to the daft escapades of his own family – Harry never failed to be amused by stories of Daisy and Phoebe’s antics – while Harry found out every possible scrap of prison gossip and relayed it to Louis instantly. A strange kind of bond formed between them; they grew so close that Harry became agitated when he went even a day without speaking to Louis, and Louis felt uncomfortable when he stayed away from the younger boy for too long, although they both agreed that he hid it better.

Even talking became unnecessary after the first few weeks. Louis longed to take things a little further, and that longing manifested itself as a desire to sit and stare almost creepily at Harry for long and preferably uninterrupted periods of time. If anyone disturbed him while he was watching Harry, he instantly fell into a foul mood, snapping at everyone and bewildering whoever had tried to attract his attention. Deny it as he might, Harry found this hilarious and sometimes, just to be annoying, he would get up and wander casually around, and then laugh so much he nearly fell over at the sight of Louis’ head bobbing up and down as he tried vainly to keep Harry in sight. This earned Harry several weird looks from all the people who couldn’t understand what he was laughing at, and Louis would just pout, and sometimes he would sulk, which only made Harry laugh harder.

 Of course, Louis wasn’t going to let him get away with THAT. So when Harry was crammed into the lunch hall, eating, Louis would cheerfully stroll up and down the room, taking long, deliberate strides, and then he would casually help himself to some food – and he then ate it as provocatively as he could. Sometimes he looked alluring; other times he looked like an idiot, but for some reason, anything to do with Louis’ mouth moving fascinated Harry, and he would simply stare like a moron, forgetting his own food, so that by the time he remembered what he was supposed to be doing and looked down at his plate, he would usually discover that either his meal had gone cold, or Niall had eaten half of it. One time, Harry became so enthralled by watching Louis eat a breadstick in slow motion that when he returned his attention to his food, his plate was completely empty, and Niall was innocently staring at the ceiling with the crumbs from Harry’s sandwich smeared around his mouth. Louis had burst out laughing, naturally, and the disgust on Harry’s face had amused him so much that he had staggered into a wall and slammed his head so hard against it that he almost gave himself concussion.