The Only One » l.s. short story

The Only One ★ A Larry Stylinson One-Shot

New York, NY. January 9th, 2013. 12:23 P.M. 

        It was a rather cold night in January as the lads and I departed from our hotel in New York. The stay was lovely and so were the fans, but I couldn't be happier to be going back to London. I was craving some time to relax. All I wanted was to get back to the flat, curl up on the couch, drink some Lemon Ginger tea, and watch movies with Harry. There's not much else I had planned. Our world tour kicks off in three months and I'm not as excited as I should be. It's been a while since we've had a vacation. I wanted these three months last. 

        "Forgetting something?" Harry appears beside me, breaking me out of my inner thoughts. In his hand he held my Links of London bracelet; the one that matched his own. It was a symbol of our friendship. I never take it off; only to shower. How could I have possibly left it behind? 

        "Ah." I begin to reach for it, but Harry pulls it away, a smirk playing on his lips. 

        "Allow me." He places the bracelet around my thin wrist, his eyebrows scrunching together as he carefully ties it in place.

        "Thanks, mate." I smile at him, tugging my blue blanket around my shoulders. My best friend continues to smirk, pulling open the hotel doors and motioning me out. The rest of the lads were already in the parking lot waiting for the cab that would be taking us to the airport. There were a few fans lingering about; you know, those who went to extremes and managed to discover the location of the hotel we were staying at. Surprisingly there was simply a few; maybe five or six. Liam was signing an autograph for a young girl while Zayn stood behind him, continuously yawning and rubbing at his eyes. Then there was Niall. He was happily chatting with one of the other fans. This girl seemed to be about his age; maybe a year or two younger. I'm not sure how Niall manages to be so social at such hours of the night. Not to mention the fans. Were they truly that dedicated?

        "Louis! Harry!" Two of the girls wave at us, nudging each other before bouncing in our direction. 

        "Hello." I smile politely at them. Harry comes up behind me, resting his chin on my shoulder. I ignore him. 

        "What are you girls doing here at such hours?" 

        The girl on the right giggles. She's nearly my height with red hair and freckles sprinkled across the bridge of her nose. Even in the darkness, I could make out her bright blue irises.

        "To meet you, of course." She states matter-of-factly. I pretend to be in shock.

        "Me? Really? Well, that's new!" I joke causing them both to giggle even more. "What are your names?"

        "I'm Miranda." The other one speaks up suddenly. She's a bit shorter than the other, but seemed a lot more mature. There was just something about the way her brown hair spilled messily around her shoulders and the height of her cheekbones that made her seem older. 

        "And I'm Lacey." The redhead informs me, her eyes flickering between Harry and I. She hesitates before speaking up again.

        "If it's not a bother, will you two mind signing my CD? Liam, Niall, and Zayn already did, though Zayn's is just a scribble." She blushes, holding up a sharpie along with a copy of our album. I laugh softly, taking the items from her.

        "I would love to!" I exclaim. "And don't mind Zayn. It's past his bedtime." Both girls chuckle, watching as I sign my name beside Niall's. When I'm done, I hand it to Harry.

        "Your turn, Hazza."

        Harry simpers, taking the album and sharpie and walking off to the side. Lacey follows him, striking up a conversation that I couldn't quite catch.

        "You know," Miranda blurts. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you two were a couple."

        I stifle a laugh. "Harry and I?" I shake my head, chuckling. "He's my best mate. We're straight as a stick."

        Miranda crosses her arms. "Are you really that oblivious?"

        "Oblivious?" I repeat.

        She nods. "Do you not see the way he looks at you?"

        I frown. "What-"

        "C'mon, Lou." Harry interrupts as Lacey saunters back to her friend. 'Cheerio, girls!"

        "Bye, Harry!" The redhead waves. "Bye, Louis."

        Miranda just stands there, an amused expression on her face as she says: "Goodbye, Louis." I hesitate before following after Harry. The cab had pulled up and Liam, Niall, and Zayn were already crowding in. Harry slides in after Zayn, motioning for me to hurry up inside. I get in, closing the door and watching the two girls from the window. They were chatting, the redhead -Lacey- more excited than the other. Miranda's words kept repeating themselves in my head, making me wonder if Harry did look at me a certain way. I don't think I ever noticed. Maybe the girl's wrong. Harry and I are just best mates. He doesn't see me as anything more. That would be too weird. Right?

        "Why are you thinking so hard?" Harry's voice startles me. I turn to look at him, swallowing my thoughts.

        "Nothing." I wave him off. "I'm just feeling a bit knackered, 'is all."

        "Me too." Harry yawns, leaning his head on my shoulder. I feel myself tense up. Why was I tensing up? Harry always laid his head on my shoulder, or the other way around. It was normal between us. That blasted Miranda was making me over think things. 

        "I can't bloody wait to get to the flat." Harry mutters. "Finally some rest."

        "Tell me about it." I feel myself relax. "I could use some Yorkshire right now."

        "I could use a bed." Harry adds. We both laugh softly. 

        "I'm hungry." I hear Niall murmur. His head is on Liam's shoulder, Liam's arm unintentionally around his waist. I've never noticed it before, but they looked like a couple. Was that how Harry and I looked? Like a couple? I shake away the thought, resting my head back and admiring Harry from the corner of eye. His eyelids were fluttering as he tried to maintain them open. His mound of curls flopped lazily on his head and over his eyes; I almost had the urge to brush them off. Instead, I turn to stare out the window. My thoughts wander back to Miranda's words. Harry and I weren't gay. We've had girlfriends; plenty of them. It's hard too imagine us as couple, but then I think about everything we do together; everything we say. Could there be something else hidden beneath our friendship?

        I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to rid myself of those thoughts. The only thing I should be worried about now is getting to London safely. Nothing more. So how come I couldn't get Harry off my mind the entire drive to the airport? Not just the drive, but the flight as well.


London, England. January 10th, 2013. 11:56 A.M.

         The minute I enter Harry and I's flat, I'm tempted to just fall on the floor and breathe in its familiar smell. London -as well as Doncaster- was my home. It always has been. Traveling the world can be exciting, but coming back has its own sense of excitement. It's unexplainable, really. I was just massively happy to be back; craving the weeks of relaxation that followed. 

        Harry dragged his luggage down to his room, the look on his face claiming he was still knackered from the hours-long flight. I lock the door to our flat, grabbing my own luggage and taking it to my room. I wasn't in the mood to unpack, so I just threw it aside and allowed myself to fall on my strongly-missed bed. Though it felt nice to lie on it for the first time in months, I couldn't will myself to curl up in it and take a well-needed nap. Something was missing, and I knew just what that something was. 

        Hopping up off the bed, I kick off my TOMS and navigate my way out of my room and toward Harry's. His door was open an inch and I decide to just let myself in. I enter silently, pushing the door closed behind me. 

        Harry's back is facing me. He's pulling his shirt off and over his head, his muscles flexing as he does so. I swallow, my eyes unintentionally roaming over his bare back. Tossing his shirt aside, he proceeds to remove his trousers. I force my eyes to look away. For the first time since I've known Harry, I feel awkward watching him undress. Maybe it was because he didn't know of my presence, or maybe because of the recent thoughts I've been having about our relationship. Whatever the reason, the feeling still lingered.

        "Whoa." Harry jumps, startled as he turns around. "Scared me."

        "Sorreh." I chuckle nervously, staring down at my bare feet. "I just..." I wave away the thought. "Nevermind. I'm going to go take a nap." Before I have a chance of turning around and exiting the room, Harry stops me.

        "You're acting strange." Harry notices. "C'mere." He slides onto his bed, patting the area beside him. "Cuddle with me." I hesitate, his words sending shivers down my spine. He wanted us to cuddle. It was nothing new; I never put much thought into it before. It was something that came naturally to us. I should really stop overthinking every little thing we do. I could be wrong; Miranda could be wrong. All Larry shippers are wrong. Harry and I are nothing but best mates.

        I stroll over, taking a seat beside him and stretching out my legs. "It's good to be back." 

        Harry smirks. "That's not cuddling."

        "What?" Before I can react, his arm snakes around my waist and he pulls me closer. My head flops onto his chest and I have to keep my eyes from widening as he drags his fingers silently up and down my arm.

        "Harry." I blurt, scrambling off his chest and back into a normal sitting position. He looks at me in surprise, hurt circling in his green orbs. 

        "Why'd you do that?"

        "I-I dunno." I lie, scratching my head awkwardly. Harry's eyes search my own, looking for what could be answers to an unasked question.

        "A fan said something." I say suddenly. "It's nothing, really. I've just been putting too much thought into nonsense." 

        Harry frowns, scooting closer to me. "What did she say, Lou?"

        I release some nervous chuckles. "She just said we acted like a couple; that I was oblivious to the way you look at me. It's nonsense, I tell you."

        Harry doesn't say anything. He simply stares at me with that intent and unreadable look in his eyes. What could he be thinking about? Was he not going to say anything? All of the sudden, he tilts his head down to stare at his large hands. An awkward smile molds itself onto his lips, both his dimples coming out to play.

        "It's not nonsense, Boobear."

        "What?" I respond, confusion written all over my face. "You're joking, Harry. ’Course it's nonsense."

        "Louis," Harry begins to speak again but I continue talking, my nerves getting the best of me.

        "It's complete nonsense." I say. "We're best mates, you and I. We couldn't possibly ever be more than just that. We're not gay! Not that I know of-" My words are cut off by a pair of lips roughly slamming onto my own. I'm in shock at first. It takes me a while to process what had just occurred.

        My best mate was kissing me. My heart did a double-take. At first, I didn't know how to react. I merely let his lips move against mine, the feeling so foreign and different. Harry's lips were soft; different from a girl's, but somehow still soft. They were like a cloud almost. His hands found my sides, pulling me closer to him and begging for me to kiss him back. I surprised myself by doing just that. I was afraid to venture into the kiss; afraid that my feelings for Harry have escalated past the boundaries of friendship. 

        His kisses me a bit rougher, his lips pleading for me to let loose and kiss him back with as much passion. I don't know how it happened or where it came from, but my hands find their way into his mess of chocolate curls, tugging on them as I kiss him back. We both melt into the kiss, allowing it to become much more heated than either of intended. 

        His tongue runs over my bottom lip and I willingly part my lips, permitting him entry. Our tongues embark in some sort of tango, the kiss becoming more of a snog. I find myself being pushing up against the back of the bed, Harry deepening the kiss more than I thought possible. 

        It's the sound of Harry's phone that breaks us apart. He pulls away, throwing it a glance but not picking it up. I notice we're both panting, out breathing uneven. I struggle to speak.

        "Aren't you going to get that?"

        He looks back at me, our faces only an inch apart. Instead of answering my question, the curly-haired boy asks one of his own.

        "Were you really oblivious to the way I looked at you?"

        I swallow, searching for the words. "I...I thought...I always saw us as just...best mates..."

        Harry chuckles. "Do best mates do this?" His runs his finger up my arm, causing me to shiver. "And this?" He brushes pieces of my brown hair off my forehead, a smirk playing on his lips. "And now this?" Leaning in, his lips greet mine in a slow, chaste kiss. My heart is racing, my palms are sweating, and I've lost the ability to think straight. Was this a dream? Is this really happening?

        "I've had feelings for you, Lou." Harry informs me, pulling away only slightly. "Since the X-Factor, I've thought of you as much more than a friend."

        "I..." I didn't know what to say, so that's exactly what I say. "I don't know what to say."

        "You don't have to say anything." Harry murmurs, his eyes roaming over every inch of my face. 

        "Actually," I bring up the courage to be honest with him. Not just with him, but with myself. "I do."

        "Louis-" I stop him, bringing my lips back to his and kissing him deeply, allowing my feelings to show. I hadn't realized it before, but there was always something different about my relationship with Harry. I always wanted to be with him. Even when I had a girlfriend, it was Harry who I spent most of my time with. He was never just a friend. He was always so much more than that. With his curly hair, dimpled smile, green eyes, and cheeky attitude, Harry was everything I had ever wanted. I'm not saying I'm gay. I've never looked at guys before. It was just Harry. Harry’s the only one. Harry’s different. Harry’s special. Harry’s...Harry.

        "So," Harry whispers in my ear, a low chuckle escaping his lips. "How about that cuddling session?"

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A/N: I've always wanted to write a Larry Stylinson story, but have yet to fnd the perfect plot. While in search of that plot, the idea for this one-shot came to be. I'd love to hear what you guys think, so please leave a comment (: I love you all!