Back For You (Larry Stylinson AU)

31 - Too tight jeans

“It’s just all so… fucked… isn’t it?” Harry said, a sad sort of laugh following his words.

Most of the time Niall was good at being positive, shining a good light on an obviously less-than brilliant situation, but this time Niall just exhaled slowly, a bit lost on finding a good light to shine, “Yeah, I suppose it is.” He said, accent thick as he answered quietly, “The past four and a half years have been fucked…”

Harry swore again, eyes squeezed tightly shut in an attempt to block the world out, which of course didn’t work as well as Harry hoped.

When they arrived back at Niall’s, Harry went straight into the spare room, stripped down to boxers and climbed into bed; he just wasn’t in the mood to sit and watch bad tv when all he really wanted to do was lie in the dark and think about what had happened over the past few hours – years.

Harry closed his eyes and mind flickered and wondered until he lost track of time, he may have fallen asleep, woken back up, and fallen back into slumber at some point – but he wasn’t really sure. All he knew was that when he opened his eyes again, it was pitch black and he couldn’t hear any movement downstairs, which tended to suggest that Niall was asleep.

If these were normal circumstances, Harry would just turn over and go (possibly return to) sleep, but these weren’t normal circumstances and Harry couldn’t shift his mind away from piercing blue eyes; tan, experienced fingers and too tight jeans.

First of all he tried to will away the hardness from inside his boxers, because surely if you chanted no boner, no boner, no boner enough times in your head, it would go away? It didn’t go away… Next Harry tried to think of something to turn himself off, (like a naked Steve Buscemi) but it was no overreaction to say that he couldn’t keep his mind off Louis, and the imaginary picture in his mind only served to lower him to a semi before he was back thinking about small fingers tracing down his chest lower, lower. Harry really didn’t want to get off to thoughts of Louis; it felt wrong now that Harry couldn’t call Louis ‘his’ anymore. It felt, Harry wasn’t sure, rude?

But you can only last for so long with a throbbing in your boxers before you give in. Harry was soon kicking the duvet off and dragging the black material of his boxers to his knees, running his own long fingers down his chest and tugging himself to a messy finish. Harry was left chest heaving and lying flat on his back; boxers bunched around his knees and his own spunk streaking his stomach; eyes filled with tears that spilled over onto his cheeks.

He wasn’t even sure why he was crying, it seemed a bit sad to cum then cry, but he just couldn’t seem to stop. He stumbled into the bathroom to wipe pathetically at himself with tissue – disgusted with himself.

He couldn’t stop crying as he fell back into bed, and he was still crying when he reached for his phone and unlocked it, quickly tapping the screen through his tear-fogged eyes until he had a new message open. He clicked onto contacts, scrolled down to Louis and sat and stared at the empty box for him to type his message.

Louis I can’t sleep. I can’t stop thinking about you. Why does it have to be like this? I know you’ve moved on, I know you have someone else – but I can’t get you out of my head and haven’t stopped loving you, and I’ve been spending all of my time loving you. From when I wake up to when I go to sleep, every minute is being used loving you. You’re all I want… You’ve got all of my attention, because Lou you are the most beautiful boy I know, and I’ve got nowhere I’d rather send all of my love, than to you… H. xx

Harry took a deep breath, wiped his tears and pressed send. With nerves coursing through his veins, Harry tossed his phone to the bottom of the bed as he gripped the duvet tightly, the good of his heart depending on the childhood thought that your duvet and keep you safe from everything.

Suddenly Harry’s phone beeped, and Harry jumped. It wasn’t a text tone, so he crawled forwards slowly to check the notification box that had popped up.

Message not sent. Number no longer in use.

Harry screamed in frustration and desperation and threw his phone at the wall, only flinching slightly when he heard a crack come from the screen.

“Why can nothing go right? Why! Fuck! Fuck, shit, fucking fuck!” Harry sobbed, pulling on his hair till blood began to gather at the roots.

He heard Niall stumble from his bed, and to no surprise to Harry, Niall was soon opening Harry’s door slowly and climbing into bed next to the shaking boy.

“Shh…” Niall soothed, rocking Harry, “It will all be ok. I promise. Hush now, Bambi. I’ve got you, it will all be ok.”

Harry sobbed into Niall’s Slipknot t-shirt, “N-no it won’t. It w-won’t N-Niall! B-because the w-world f-fu-fucking hates m-me. L-Louis fucking h-hates m-me.”

And it doesn’t really matter that Harry looked up at Niall pleadingly when Niall tried to leave after finally calming the curly-haired boy half an hour later; and it doesn’t really matter that Harry only got to sleep once Niall had pulled him back into a hug and started singing to him under his breath; and it doesn’t really matter that Niall knew exactly what songs to sing, and those where the songs Louis had spent hours transferring onto a mixtape for Harry back when they were in High School; it didn’t really matter that Niall knew that Harry just needed a little ‘Louis’ near.