I'm Holding You Closer Than Most ('cause you are my heaven)| l.s

3.0

I forgot to mention that this chapter was posted as a part of a little celebration for @CrazyLaughter *smirks*

Please go and read her stories bc first- she's my nonexistent boyfriend, second- her stories are seriously so amazing, third- most of them are LARRY and they're all very lovely :)

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Louis is a very clean person. He doesn't like a mess around him at all and- just, just look where his fate has brought him to.

Right now, Louis and Harry are in Harry's apartment, which is a little too messy for Louis' liking. With his clothes all over the place (even on the dining table), pizza boxes on the kitchen counter, mess of blankets on the bed and knickers in the living room, Louis wonders if the kid is actually twenty two because with his big green doe eyes and dimples, Louis actually doubts it.

Currently they are in the kitchen, preparing for their fourth suicide attempt of the day.

Harry's idea is simple. They're going to close all the windows and doors, turn all the stoves on, wait for a few minutes and then light a matchstick. Boom! In a second they will be blown with the explosion. Louis wonders if it will be all film-sy, like the explosion would be so hard that they would fly out of the windows and all.

Louis watches as Harry runs (trips) across the flat to close the windows and turn the blinds in. He finally makes it to the kitchen, gives a little smile to Louis, and turns all the stoves on.

He grabs a box of matchsticks from the shelf and stands infront of Louis.

Harry opens the box of the matchsticks and frowns. "There are only three left." Three? Just three?

"We only need one," Louis says. Because they actually need only to do the job.

Harry huffs and takes one out. "Okay. We're doing this," Louis gives a small nod and Harry scratches the matchstick against the box (squinting his eyes, as if expecting an explosion) but it doesn't light.

Harry frowns and furiously tries again and again, so furiously that he breaks the stick. "Oh my god," He looks up at Louis in horror.

No. This can't happen right now. They now have only two left and Louis seriously doesn't trust Harry's matchstick-handling skills.

Harry takes out the second matchstick and runs a hand through his hair nervously. "Ready again?" Louis huffs and nods. This seriously needs to work now. His head is hurting too much.

It doesn't light. Again. Harry is more confused than irritated (which Louis is). What the actual fuck is happening right now? Is the box defective or is Harry that useless? Has the red phosphorus lost it's reactivity or something?

"Maybe you should let me try this one," Louis stops Harry from taking out the third and the last matchstick. Harry gives the box to Louis and rubs his face frustratingly.

Louis takes a deep breath as he takes out the third matchstick. They can't fail their forth suicide attempt. They are not losers. Nope.

Louis scratches the matchstick against the box- which Harry is more curiously watching- and it lights. It lights!

Louis and Harry both gasp as they see the small flame. Why is not anything happening? Why isn't the kitchen exploding? Maybe- maybe the gas needs some more time to spread!

"Paper! We need paper!" Louis shouts. They need to keep the fire burning. They need to light some paper or something.

Harry nods frantically as he runs across the kitchen. "Paper, paper, paper," he grabs a stash of papers and runs back to Louis.