Unbelievers

Chapter 8.3

So, Liam knows.

Louis contemplates this while he cleans off the counter at the shop the next day, brows furrowed. He supposes he should be angry, knowing that Harry's friends are leaving loose ends all over the place. Surprisingly, most of all to himself, he's not. He doesn't quite know how, but he's not worried. Maybe it's because of how nice Liam sounded, or how sweet he looked when he smiled a little impishly as he called Harry's fuck his person. Louis quite likes that word. Maybe Harry has become Louis' person, too, in some ways.

He doesn't know how Liam figured it out, but it's oddly comforting that he did. Louis trusts him.

Who else knows? Harry's family, Lottie, and Zayn. Maybe even Sophia. Couples tell each other everything, right?

Speaking of Zayn. Niall.

The two of them are evidently friends these days. Maybe Niall even knows. What if he does? Would Louis be able to skip the whole coming out chapter? In a way he really wishes that'd be the case, but at the same time not. He doesn't want it coming from anyone other than himself. He still doesn't know how, though, but he wants to. Suddenly for the first time there's actual longing to just spit it out. He wants to tell his best friend. He wants to be free of it.

He needs to take a breather after he realizes that, because wow if that doesn't feel heavenly to finally come to. He wants to tell. He just has got to find the right moment.

"What are you smiling about?" Greg says, and Louis finds him grinning down at him, hip against the counter. Louis lifts a brow in return, smirking back.

"Nothing. I'm just in a good mood."

"That's nice. How come?"

"I don't know," he shrugs. Maybe it's because he feels like he's got people to catch him now, just in case. His smile broadens.

"Sure, you do! What is this?" Greg laughs. "You're all sunny." He eyes Louis, lingering on his face for a moment. His voice is soft. "It suits you."

Louis simply grins, incapable of doing anything else at the moment, and tosses the wet towel at Greg's chest. It leaves a wet patch on his black t-shirt, and the older boy arches a brow.

"Really?"

"What are you going to do about it?" Louis says playfully. He's in such a good mood. It's completely liberating.

"Do you really want to know?"

"What is that supposed to mean?" He cautiously watches as Greg raises his hand, holding the towel up. Greg takes a few steps back, turning on the sink. "Don't you dare," Louis warns.

Greg only smirks, wetting the towel entirely under the water. He slowly shuts it off, while Louis steps back warily. His eyes flick between Greg and the dripping dishtowel, knowing that it's only a matter of time before he attacks. Louis searches for some kind of weapon, but the only the thing he sees are tiny, colourful plastic spoons. He grabs them.

Then Greg advances and Louis yelps, running away as Greg chases him. He doesn't get far, Greg catching his waist and rubbing his face into the towel. It's so gross.

He manages to fight him off, and then throws his spoons in his direction. He misses spectacularly, a rainbow of spoons loudly landing, completely spread out on the floor behind him as he dashes out from behind the counter. He feels when the towel splashes against his back, wetly soaking his shirt.

Louis groans and balls it up, throwing it back at Greg who's crouching behind the till. He hits him in the neck.

"Ow!" Greg laughs, and Louis cackles victoriously.