Chapter 4

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Louis had no idea what he was doing. It was 4 am and he was sitting cross-legged on his bed in near darkness, laptop open in front of him, googling ‘prostitution rates’. He hadn’t intended to become completely insane but sometime between Friday night’s random run-in at the convenience store and his current circumstances, it had happened anyway.

It was all entirely hypothetical, of course. He was just curious as to what someone like Harry made, that’s all. He couldn’t get the kid out of his head, but that was just healthy curiosity. It was only natural that he wondered. Natural that he wanked off every fucking chance he got to thoughts of him.

Okay, so Louis had a slight problem. He wouldn’t refer to it as an obsession, really, it was more of an… interest. He honestly couldn’t help it, and it was getting to the stage where Louis knew he was going to have to do something drastic. Otherwise he was destined to be sexually frustrated and miserable for the rest of his life.

He’d originally figured that if he just waited it out, Harry Styles would magically fade from his mind. Unfortunately, time seemed to have the opposite effect; every person he passed on the street had become Harry. Harry Styles. He kind of hated that he knew the boy’s full name. Angry that he was fixated enough to soak up every bit of information he could from Friday night.

Louis had never had much patience, and the more he thought about the boy the more he wanted to fix the problem.

Even though Zayn had delighted in Louis’ misery all Saturday, he’d taken pity on him by the time night fell, lying on the couch wrapped up in his doona and complaining incessantly. So his friend had quite literally rolled him onto the floor and ordered him to get dressed, come to a club, get spectacularly pissed, pick up someone and actually fuck his way out of the problem. Louis had genuinely considered the idea a good one, thought that maybe Zayn had a point; lying around moaning wouldn’t solve anything. So he’d put on his best striped shirt and really had a go at it.

They’d gone to a popular club just around the corner from their apartment building where Zayn had proceeded to have the time of his life, joining the DJ at the turntables and taking over for about half an hour, dancing with at least ten different girls and generally drinking too much.

Louis had kissed a pretty girl with bright blue eyes on the dance floor, but had broken it off with an apologetic shake of his head and had ended up walking a completely sloshed Zayn home. They’d stopped twice so he could vomit in the gutter and then slur in Louis’ ear about how ‘if he was going to be so grumpy, he might as well go find that guy and get it over with’. Not exactly what Louis would call a top night.

After Louis’ failure of a Saturday night he’d spent half of Sunday lying on his bedroom floor and the other half watching re-runs of Friends without actually paying any attention to the TV at all. It was on Sunday night, a carton of cold Chinese noodles in his lap, that he’d come to the realisation that clearly the Harry problem had grown to an unmanageable size. Something had to be done.

The only thing that he could come up with was that he needed to go one more round, just to get it out of his system. Obviously Harry wouldn’t fuck him just because Louis asked nicely; he had a feeling he wouldn’t be lucky enough for Harry to want to make another very generous donation to the poor university student charity fund.

That was how Louis had ended up switching alternatively between porn websites he’d accidentally stumbled upon and his online savings account during the early hours of Tuesday morning. He had to get up for class in three hours but had completely disregarded his need for sleep in favour of figuring out how he was going to afford paying for sex on top of paying that month’s rent. If he was honest the sexual frustration was more of an academic burden than the sleep deprivation.

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