69 For 28 || l.s

21.

Niall went offline, like the dramatic bitch he is.

Louis groaned, slumping down on the couch, he grabbed the remote with shakey hands and watched some football before it was time for dinner.

He felt like popcorn would do it today, maybe a glass wine too if he's feeling extra.

Drowning his emotions in alcohol was something he never learned, actually in middle school, when all the guys in his class started drinking and taking drugs, he always was the sober one, cleaning up the mess they left, or he'd help them puke.

Once a guy he helped hit him really hard the next day. Because the twat thought Louis was a faggot.

Maybe his feminine looks sometimes came in his way to make friends, in the past of course.

Louis went to the kitchen,

He shuffled across the wooden floorboards in his different coloured socks, and because he was extra lucky, he stubbed his toe on the doorstep. He leaned over his face contorted in pain.

"Fucking hell," he grumbled and limped the rest of the way. God sometimes he hated his life. And today was a perfect example of why life is just a worthless pile of dirt.

Plus, he felt out of shape. A few days of lamg now he had tried not to smoke and it was already getting on his nerves. In addition, his jogging pants were slightly twisted and his cock was squeezing. It felt good when he sat but felt like shit when he walked. And he was hungry.

But not the type of hunger where he really wanted to eat. He was more nauseous.

He stuffed a bag of salty popcorn into the microwave and popped it, while the bag was spinning in the heat he made himself a cold cocoa and took a beer with him.

"Harry! Beer?" No answer. Fucking rude prick.

"Harry!" He screamed again, his voice breaking a bit, he cringed at the high pitched tone leaving his lips.

Oh now he was angry. Almost furious. He doesn't have a lot of pet peeves but people to answering him, gives him for once anxiety, and it makes him feel ignored.

So he went upstairs, ripping the door open. "Fucking prick, when I'm calling you-", he stopped abruptly watching Harrys back rise and fall slowly. He was sleeping. His eyes beautifully closed, his lips were slightly open. His hand rested next to his face. He looked so peaceful.

In all these weeks, Louis had never seen him so relaxed.

An unintentional smile came to his lips. Slowly he closed the door again and attended to his popcorn and a cold beer, while the warm feeling in his chest and the gentle smile did not leave him.

His popcorn tasted burnt and his beer wasn't cold enough. Something was missing. Niall.

They'd been watching football since they met, and even though he didn't want to be a pansy, he worried slightly.

-

Tired, he lay on the couch, half asleep, snuffled in his too-big adidas jumper. His knees pulled up to his chest, the blanket up to his waist.

His eyes fluttered shut a few times.

Before he woke up, someone had finally left his room and was now trudging quietly up the stairs.

"LouiS" The men asked quietly, approaching Louis weird position with his dull green eyes.

"Its LouiE not LouiS"

Harry shrugged, Louis' breath caught in his throat, he felt Harry's hands on his thigh, and a little too close to his ass. His eyes widened, he was not used to being touched so naturally by someone. And he was definitely not used to his stomach tingling and pleasant shivers running down his body.