Breaking Louis Tomlinson {Larry Stylinson AU}

Chapter Two

When the boys finally left him alone, Louis was barely conscious. Blood was streaming from a nasty gash on his cheek where he had been kicked, and several of his ribs were severely bruised. His eyes were swelled shut; he could barely see out of them. Every part of him was bruised, but nothing hurt worse than his pride. He knew that he couldn’t return to playing football, not anymore.

So he quit.

His mum was so baffled that night when Louis came home. She asked him countless questions, all which he ignored. She had a faint idea what happened, but Louis was so hurt about it that she didn’t dare press him. His mum figured that the boys were being typical teenagers, fighting over silly things.

She never even thought that her son was being bullied.

Louis got chills as he sat on the sofa, remembering that night. It was hellish, to say the least. No, that wouldn’t be the first time he’d be beaten up, but it certainly wasn’t something he’d forget for his entire life. It was the first time he realised how hated he was.

That cruel reality was like a dose of cold water. It reminded him that the real world was a lot shitter than he thought.

Louis slurped on his soup, his eyes wandering mindlessly around his messy flat. His mind was a thousand other places than on his sofa. He was so awake; his thoughts were flying around so fast. Tonight had given him a lot to think about, but it wasn’t entirely negative. In fact, Louis felt him lips tug into a small smile as it came back to him.

See, Louis was thinking about him again.

He didn’t even know his name.

But he was absolutely, positively mad for him.

His voice—Louis couldn’t get it out of his mind. It was raspy and jagged, yet oddly smooth. One word is all it took to send shivers down Louis’s spine.

He wanted to hear him say his name.

No, Louis wanted more than that. He wanted him to whimper his name, he wanted him to whisper it in his ear, he wanted—

No, Louis thought to himself firmly. Stop that right now.

But it was so hard to keep those scenes from playing in his mind. The boy was like a box of possibilities, each more sweet and pleasurable than the last. And Louis wanted to test every last one out.

He began to get drowsy once he had finished his noodles, but he didn’t want to walk the distance to his room because the sofa was so warm. Louis pulled the duvet closer around him and closed his eyes, feeling something close to contentment. He began to drift off, a certain green-eyed boy floating in and out of his dreams…

***

Knock, knock.

The sound made Louis stir, but it didn’t fully wake him up. He ignored the noise, and buried his head deeper into his duvet, intent on getting back to sleep.

Knock, knock.

This time the noise was a little more forceful and deliberate. Louis was slightly annoyed at this point, because it was probably the flat-owner complaining that he hadn’t paid his fees on time or something. Besides, he didn’t get paid for another two days, so he couldn’t shut her up until then.

“Louis?” A voice called uncertainly. “Er—are you up?”

Louis opened his eyes feebly, awoken by the unfamiliar voice coming from outside his door. It wasn’t Zayn, but it was definitely masculine. And Louis never had male company over…