اوووه! هذه الصورة لا تتبع إرشادات المحتوى الخاصة بنا. لمتابعة النشر، يرجى إزالتها أو تحميل صورة أخرى.
Louis is failing, and it's week one. His first mock exam was so bad that the professor asked him to stay after. Louis did study (on the bus twenty minutes before the exam ). Why are his grades not improving, ever? He kicks his shoes off, begrudgingly tired. It smells fresh, and the floor looks polished. He trots into the kitchen, and the warm light of the fridge welcomes his eyes as he opens it. To his surprise, there is not a single rotten or molded thing in there. Rows of fresh fruit, vegetables, and organic orange juice stare at him like he is the most filthy thing to ever exist. Louis makes a U-turn to the cupboards. The amounts of crackers and sweets are gone. Replaced by dried fruit, nuts, and organic crackers. Louis' heart rate picks up, his nostrils flate. He shuts the cupboard aggressively. That prick. Louis jogs over to the glass closet, small and outlined by dark wood, and filled with alcohol. He takes the whiskey and chugs it. His throat burns. His fists are clenched and he knows he's going to do something he will regret as he stalks up to Harry's room.
If his day is ruined, Harry's day deserves to be ruined. He's like a bug, slowly spreading through the whole apartment. Louis is the extinguisher. Niall hasn't stopped talking about Harry the whole week. It's 'Harry this, Harry that and oh! You know what Harry did?' Yes, he does, thank you. Harry is a spreading parasite. Everyone loves him for no reason. Yes, he is handsome, and he does a lot for others, but that's about it. He isn't special or anything. His perfectly toned stomach, sharp jawline, bouncy curls, and pearl white teeth aren't special. His dimples aren't adorable either. Dimples are a disfunction of the cheeks. It's not something to show off. Louis isn't jealous. He is seeking revenge. Yesterday, Harry and Niall went out to get coffee. Today, Harry rearranged the apartment. What's next? An invasion in Louis' room?
Niall is Louis best friend. He's all Louis got. Seeing him with Harry makes his blood boil.
He dies not take a deep, reassuring breath before he yanks the door open. He has had more than enough. First, he ignores Louis' warning, and now he's- doing yoga? Louis jaw falls to the floor.
Harry, in only his boxershorts, is lying on the floor with his feet up on a chair and his hands on his stomach. Underneath his body is a pink yoga mat. His stomach moves up and down evenly, his abs flex and relax. Louis eyes wander over his flexed thighs, sweat dripping from his tanned skin. His shorts are bright pink as well, matching his mat. They are short. Very. Short. Leaving nothing to the imagination. Louis averts his eyes rapidly. His cheeks heat up, and a faint crimson appears.
"Harry!" He grits, his eyes trained to Harry's bed. (And absolutely not to his dimples or his sweaty, almost naked body.)
Harry's eyes open slowly. He turns his head to Louis and blinks momentarily. "Yeah?" He asks slowly, his deep, raspy voice sending shivers down Louis' spine. God, he's so tall. All long legs and torso.
