The Exceptionals

Chapter Seven: Fascinatingly Predictable

Yes Sir, I Can Boogie - Baccara

     Mellow water was slowly gliding down his smooth tanned skin, warm and silky as it glistened down his sweaty back and landed in a cloudy puddle near his feet. He was leaning his cloudy head against the slippery cold tiles, his dishevelled hair unruly and greasy as it matted to his forehead, pushed back into a fringe of tangled strands as Louis just stared at his feet, droplets falling into his eyes which were being constantly blinked away as the boy just merely thought. Thought about a lot of things. Considered many things. Revaluated stuff.

Truth be told.

He's lost.

Driving with a blindfold on, kind of lost.

It feels like he just kind of took an unrequested turn he can never come back from. Like this is it. He fucked up. What now? Honestly, what does someone even do after doing something like that?

He's been pondering around the pruning question for about the last forty-two minutes he's stood there, in the same position, staring at the same cluttering spot while the shower's warm water was brutish yet serenely beating down on him. Louis had decided to take a long needed shower to feel metaphorically cleaner of himself. Not that he wasn't already going to scrub himself after being covered in sweat and cum, but he also wanted to feel like himself again, he just assumed that washing off would somehow make him feel sane, better perhaps. 'Cause after a fuck-up like that, what does one even do?

Also, there's been a wandering viewpoint Louis' muddled head has been jammed with, presenting itself at the front of his mind and picking at his brain. He's very aware it's a concept and not an actual bodily material thing he's got or even something a lot of people consider an actually matte of sorts. Still, he just can't stop thinking about it. He's been waiting a long bloody time for this moment. And it just kinda... happened.

Louis lost his virginity.

That's a thing now.

He doesn't have it anymore.

It's just a fake vision, he knows, but still, he doesn't have it anymore. It's not his anymore.

In other words, it belongs to Harry.

And that thought had made Louis want to throw up since the moment he stood under the fountain of water.

At the ripe age of nineteen, he lost his virginity.

But that wasn't even the frustrating or invariant bit in other words. 'Exhilarating' part of it.

He lost his virginity, to a boy. Harry Styles to be more specific.

That thought is just so fucking revolting and utterly nauseating, but the worst part is that he cannot even begin to feel slightly angry about it or even be mad at Harry for it, because, in that lustrous moment, Louis fucking let him. He fucking consented to it. Harry had asked him if he was okay with it, he had given Louis the chance to leave, to run away, he had asked him if he was okay with it, and Louis fucking went with it. This was his fault, plain as day. Louis fucked up. No other way to beat around the bush on that one, he actually fucked up.

Well then.

Louis sighed as he shut his eyes tightly, grimacing as he brought his hands to grip his soaked hair, tightening his hold and pulling at the strands as he appallingly buried his heated face in the crook of his arms all while pulling frustratingly at his hair. His eyes were starting to painfully burn, he doesn't know if it was because of all the water that had trickled into them while his eyes were still open, or if it was because he had begun to cry, but his eyes were burning, and Louis felt like sobbing.