One Direction Bromance One Shots

Louis and Harry: Wounded

A/N: This is probably the longest one shot I have done so I hope you like it!

Harry put all his weight behind the punch. He drew back and swung again, over and over until he felt his knuckles becoming raw. Liam held the bag in place. He looked worried. He was talking to him, but Harry wasn’t listening. Memories from the past two years flooded him with every punch.

“My name is Louis,” he said. He smiled brightly at Harry in the mirror as if they had just met on the street and not in the toilets at the biggest competition in the UK. There was no trace of nerves on his face. Harry envied him. He felt sick from the pressure and the presence of the beautiful, older man only put him more on edge.

But at the same time, he never wanted him to leave.

Harry exhaled and put more pressure on his other foot. He eyed the bag. He brought his balled fists to his face and swung again.

Louis’ body was pressed against his. Niall snored softly on the bed beneath them. He could hear some of the other contestants still going on downstairs. It was raining. Louis had crawled into his bed only moments ago, but he was already asleep, nuzzled into Harry’s side. Tentatively, Harry wrapped his arm around Louis’ shoulder. Louis shifted; Harry tensed and waited for him to pull away; he didn’t.

Louis rested his head on Harry’s shoulder and wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist. Harry placed his other hand over Louis’ and smiled.

Liam stared at him. He said something about slowing down, about taking it easy. Harry ignored him. He swung again.

“Everything is going to change,” Louis said quietly. They lay in their tent. The Leed’s Festival still very awake outside. Harry touched Louis’ cheek gently.

“Not everything,” he said. Louis leaned into his touch. “Don’t be scared. I’ll still be here with you. No amount of fame could ever change that. There will always be you and me.”

Louis smiled. “I love you,” he said. Harry cupped the back of his neck and pulled him forward. Their lips pressed together in a way that was now very familiar. Louis’ hands snuck under his shirt, pulling it over his head.

Moments later, laying naked, hovering over him, Louis asked: “Is this ok?”

“Yes,” Harry said simply. Louis kissed him again.

“Fuck,” Harry muttered. The material of the gloves was rubbing him raw, cutting through his flesh. He still didn’t stop.

“They’re never going to let us be together,” Louis said. He was pacing their living room, chewing on the side of his thumb. He wouldn’t look at Harry who was sitting helplessly on the couch.

“Who cares what they think, Lou?” he asked.

“They control our whole future, Harry!” Louis said, finally turning to him. “They’re just going to keep pushing us and pushing us, always apart and never together. We’re always hiding, always censoring ourselves. I can’t do it anymore.”

“We’ll leave then,” Harry pleaded. “We’ll just leave. We’ll go somewhere where no one knows us.”

“That’s not an option anymore, Harry,” Louis said quietly. He sat down on the couch next to him. He laced his fingers in his lap. “You know that’s not an option. It’s not just our lives we’d be effecting.”

“Lou, I love the boys, but I love you more,” Harry said. A lump was building in his throat.

“Harry…”