Infatuated ( l.t.+ h.s.)

chapter 1

Louis sighs for the hundredth time that evening. It's the day of his big move, the day he finally shook off his parental restrains and set off on his own. He's fresh out of uni, towing a useless degree and seemingly permanent hangover.

But still. He's standing right now in his new flat, and sure it's kind of small and the walls are plain white like a hospital. Still, it's his very own. Now all he has to do is get a job. And unpack all these boxes the movers had lugged in. Why does he have so much stuff?

Louis plants his hands on his hips as he surveys the minefield of cardboard boxes scattered across the bare flat. It will takes ages to get this all unpacked, especially since it's only him. His nose crinkles at the though of getting all sweaty. He really should be getting started now, but there's a mug of tea calling his name and the TV is set up, so he supposses it could wait.

There's suddenly the sound of the door being knocked repeatedly, quite urgently in fact. Louis jumps in surprise and whirls around, mildly irritated with the person on the other side. Because come on, he's trying to breathe in his new life and relish the moment and all that, without the door being broken down by someone.

"Gonna put your fist right through the wood." Louis grumbles, pausing to smooth out his messy hair before answering.

"Is there a problem-" Louis begins, and then stops. Standing right outside the door is a boy with a head of moppy brown curls and green eyes framed by dark lashes. He has impossibly red lips, as though wearing cherry Chapstick or something, and a pale complexion.

"Hello there!" the boy chirps, all smiley and bright eyes. "I'm Harry, I live next door to you."

Louis pauses with his hand balanced on the door frame, staring at the newcomer before him. He thinks Harry looks very, very soft all over. Sort of like snow white, all dark hair and red lips and fair skin.

"Nice to meet you, Harry." Louis replies kindly, "I'm Louis." He doesn't really know what to do next, because the boy is just standing there like he's waiting for something. Louis sighs, since company is this last thing he wants, but gives and says, "Would you like to um- come in?"

Harry beams and nods eagerly, causing little dimples to indent his cheeks. Louis opens the door wider and awkwardly waves him in. In all honesty Louis just wants to find out what the boy needs and send him on his way. He's dying to just change into over sized sweats and watch crap TV.

"So since you're new here," Harry says, digging around in his messy backpack, "I just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood, or um, flat building. My mum gave me cookies to drop off, like, you know- as a little welcoming gift. Ah, here they are."

Louis gingerly accepts the small metal tin and pops off the lid, smiling slightly when he sees the chocolate chip cookies inside. They're still warm. How thoughtful. He thinks that maybe moving here wasn't such a bad idea after all if he has dessert wielding neighbors.

"Thank you." Louis says, taking a small bite of one.

"No problem, Mr-" Harry falters and looks at him questioningly.

Louis waves the bitten cookie in the air. "Oh god no, don't call me Mr. Tomlinson. That's my dad. Call me Louis. I'm not that much older then you, I'm twenty two."

"Oh, sorry, Louis." Harry apologizes, "I'm sixteen." he adds.

Oh. Louis would've thought he would be older, but at the same time he acts sort of young, all cheerful and smiling and- dear god he just stumbled over the edge of the carpet. Sort of clumsy, Louis decides, but seems to be nice. He's again unsure what to do, because Harry's just standing there with his thumbs hooked under his backpack straps as he surveys the mountains of boxes. Not leaving. Very rash, if you ask him.

"Um- would you like one?" Louis asks, holding the cookies out to the boy. He assumes that Harry would just take one from the tin, and then maybe leave. But instead Louis watches in surprise as Harry leans forward and takes a bite right out of the one Louis had been eating. Right over his own bite mark. His lips brush Louis' finger, a bit of pink tounge and warm mouth.

Louis stares at him in shock, because who the hell has the audacity to do that? This kid is a little odd, and Louis is a bit freaked out. But he sort of liked Harry's mouth on his hand for a second. Definently a blow job mouth, Louis decided, then quickly pushed that thought away. He sounds like a pedophile.

"Very good." Harry murmurs thickly through his mouthful. He has a chocolate smear on his face that Louis really wants to wipe away with his thumb.

"So," Harry exclaimed after swallowing, "It looks like you got a lot of boxes, so how about I come over tomorrow to help you unpack them a bit? I would hope somebody would do that for me, you know? Also my mum wants me to, but I don't mind. I'm not doing anything tomorrow, it's a Saturday and so there's no school so I'll have loads of time."

"Oh no, really that's okay-"

Harry keeps rambling. "It's great that we have somebody new, all the people here are old and I haven't got any friends in the building. We can be friends, I suppose. I'm literally the flat right across the hall."

Louis regrets opening the door, now being approached by this boy with a shared cookie and newfound friendship. The boy reached up to push back a loose curl, showing a pale strip of skin on his stomach revealed by his lifted t-shirt. He's deliciously curvy at the waist for a boy. Hasn't quite lost all his baby fat, but still small.

"Listen, sweetheart." Louis begins, then winces at the term of endearment. He has to remember this isn't a girl, despite how pretty he is. "Harry, you really don't need to help me. I got this."

"Oh." Harry pouts, lips pursing. He seems hurt for some reason.

Louis balks and worries that he's made the boy cry. "I mean, you totally can though. I do need help."

Harry grins, the grey cloud over his head disappearing in a ray of sunshine, crinkles appearing at the corner of his eyes. "Splendid. Nice to meet you, Louis."

"Tell your mum I said thanks." Louis calls as Harry leaves the apartment, slamming the door behind the boy with a sigh and resting his forehead against the wood. He eats another cookie, sighs a bit more, and then goes and puts on his comfy ugly sweats.

He thinks about Harry a lot while doing this.

Louis knows he's gay, obviously, but his type is the ruggedly handsome male model type. Not cute and soft and princess pretty. So how come he keeps thinking about Harry's lips on his hand, imagining him sucking lightly on the tips of his fingers. Is that weird? Louis decides that it is. How can you have such conflicting emotions on somebody you find so irritable?

It's no surprise really, because Louis falls in love with someone every other week if they give him attention or touch him at all. It's a fatal flaw of his. About seven minutes of conversation do not give him the right to do all this thinking.

So by the time Louis is in front of the TV watching the Bachelor, he's mad. Because how dare that boy just bounce all in here, act all stupidly cute, and then invite himself over again. Stupid. Six years is quite an age gap that Louis can't jump. It's weird of him, like that creepy neighbor that parents tell their kids to avoid. Must be stress, he decides, or lack of human contact.

He tells himself that as he goes to sleep that night.

{so what do you think}

{I've decided to make Louis 22 so}

{sorry this was short}