Turquoise (L.S)

XIII

Louis wished he had slept. He wished that he had been able to shut his eyes and let dreams whisk him off to another realm. He wished that his brain had shut off and let him rest, even for a brief moment, but he hadn't.

Instead, the boy had spent the night tossing and turning, worrying about Harry. He'd even purposely left their conjoining door slightly ajar, so he could hear the man's breathing. Logically, Louis knew that he would be fine, but that small little voice in the back of his head worried that something bad would happen. And so, there he was, at nine in the morning, with absolutely no sleep in his system.

In truth, he had been waiting for the sound of movement in the rockstar's room, so he could check on him again. It was not that he wanted to see Harry's morning face. It definitely wasn't. Louis could not care less about his tousled curls and sleepy eyes.

Eventually, he heard a small groan from the other room, and he shot out of bed, his mind instantly forgetting his lack of sleep. He paused, and waited for the sound of movement. The soft patter of feet could be heard on the cold hardwood floor, and Louis breathed a sigh of relief. Harry was awake and alive. A small part of him wanted to go to the door, and make sure he was Okay. He wanted to put him back to bed and bring him breakfast, but he knew he could not do that. That would be crossing the invisible line that he had drawn for himself.

Instead, Louis crept out of bed, careful not to step on any creaking floorboards. He really did not want to bring attention to the fact that he was awake, and had been for a very long time. He tread on his tiptoes, as he snuck down the stairs, eager for breakfast. It was early, and he knew that the chef probably would not be awake, but he did not mind. You did not exactly need a trained cook to make coco-pops.

He slipped into a breakfast bar stool, lazily with a bowl of his favourite cereal in front of him. The lack of sleep was finally getting to him and he let out an incredibly loud yawn.

The lad from Doncaster had been unaware of the presence of someone behind him, until he heard a throat clear. His eyes widened and whipped around, straining his neck.

Harry was standing in front of him, awkwardly. All he wore was an oversized t-shirt and it showed off his long legs that seemed to stretch like a long stretch of freeway in the United States. Louis's eyes were entranced by them, taking in the tanned skin, and light dusting of hair.

If he had not been so mesmerised by the star's legs, he would have seen his expression, and not been so surprised when he let his wrath free.

"I cannot believe the audacity of you," He snapped, and Louis's eyes flicked from Harry's legs to his face. The singer's curly hair was a mess on the top of his head, and a section had flopped down into his face. The sight of Harry in the morning truly was breathtaking. It was a shame his angry face was ruining it all.

"Sorry what?" Louis asked, wondering if he had been so distracted that he had managed to miss half of the conversation. He was fairly sure he had not.

Harry rolled his eyes, and stalked closer to the smaller lad, who was still perched on the stool.

"How dare you cancel my party in my home," Harry continued, his eyes narrowing in on him. Louis looked back, shocked and a little confused. Did Harry not remember asking him to end the party?

"Harry, you were absolutely wasted, and that party was out of hand," He replied, trying to keep his voice level and nonchalant. In truth, Louis was pretty hurt by Harry's misplaced anger. All he had wanted to do was help, and instead, he was being treated like the most hated person on the planet.

"I don't care. Do you know how embarrassing that was for me? You threatened to call the police on my friends, Louis" Harry's rant continued, blissfully unaware of Louis's inner pain. His eyes were like a forest, burning: oranges and reds swirling against the typical calming green. He looked villainous and serpentine, with his eyes narrowed, and his hissing words.