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

chapter 5

Louis realizes a miraculous thing about life. It is that life is full of problematic hurdles, and you jump one and feel great. But then there's another one like a foot away, and if you aren't paying attention you'll catch your sneaker on the edge and trip and face smash into the pavement. 

He was never very good at hurdles in school. Too small and uncoordinated. 

Anyway, Louis has kissed Harry. This big question though, is now what? He doesn't know what he expected. It wasn't as if he expected them to go out on a date or something. They can't. Partially because he might get arrested and partially because Harry isn't allowed to see Louis ever again. So after they kiss, Louis goes home and dreams about pressing his lips to the boys pale skin under all those clothes, and wakes up realizing he has no idea how to move forward from this. 

Louis decided to call his best friend Zayn to get advice on this curly haired problem. 

"I’m in love with a sixteen year old boy." Louis declared as a way of greeting, the moment the call was picked up. 

There was tense silence from the other end of the line, followed by a slow and strenuous sigh. “Hello, Louis. Can you please repeat-“ 

"This boy, Harry." Louis exclaimed in frustration, using his free hands to anxiously run it through his hair. He paced over to the window and hooked a thin finger through the plastic blinds, pulling it down a crack so he can peek outside. 

"What the hell do you mean, you fell in love with a sixteen year old boy?" 

Louis spots his current infatuation playing outside in the alley beside the flat building. Harry is wearing an oversized hoodie that makes the sleeves fall over his hands, and is busy kicking a football against the brick wall. His curly hair is pulled into the cutest little ponytail on the top of his head to keep it out of his eyes. He’s not very good, sort of all over the place really, but Louis loves to watch. 

"Exactly that." Louis snapped with mild irritation, letting the blinds close. "You know how I got a new flat, well I moved in next door to this one boy and his mum. And this boy-" 

Peeking out the window again, Louis watched as Harry moved for the ball and stumbled, quite spectacularly falling to the ground. Louis flinched when Harry hit the ground, worried about him. He wonders if the boy scraped his pale knee. Louis would kiss the cut and cuddle him. Maybe carry him up to his bedroom to strip off that big sweatshirt and feel his bare skin and- oh wait, he’s still on the phone with Zayn. 

"I’ve developed an extremely strange obsession over this stupidly cute, clusmy little thing. I want to put a ribbon on his tiny ponytail." 

Zayn doesnt answer, instead sighs for so long Louis is afraid he might pass out. Then he hangs up. Louis stares at the receiver for a minute- because how dare he do that in a moment of crisis -and it starts ringing.

"Louis," Zayn says, after calling back. "You can’t like this boy, you know." 

This time Louis hangs up the phone. Zayn is suppossed to give good advice, like “run away with Harry and be happy and kiss and love each other”, okay- well that’s a little of a stretch. Twenty minutes later though, there’s a knock on the door, and there’s Mr. Bad Advice himself. 

"You’re going to die of lung cancer," Louis says, "Attached to a breathing tube while gasping for air." 

"You smell like failed life descions." Zayn retorts calmly, a cigarette held between two of his slender fingers, the smoke curling up in wisps around his head. 

The thing about Zayn is that Zayn knows he may be one of the most attractive people in the universe. Which makes Louis have difficultly going out with him, because he treats the sidewalk like a Marc Jacobs runway, while Louis is left trying to fight off the girls heaving themselves at him. It was like that all through highschool, Zayn rocking the whole “look at me, the typical rebellious teen with my leather coat and tattooes and hatred from all parents" while Louis was just his less cool, asthmatic sidekick who didn’t like loud noises. Moving on.