Just Shut Up And Die

Chapter Twenty-One

Louis' POV

The pure warmth that engulfed me was what I'd love to wake up to every morning. The sun's rays flitted through the curtains like children playing hide and seek, letting my shoulder blades bask in the comfort for a moment before the cottoned veil would extinguish it with its faint shadow. I hummed at the tranquillity that nested within me, buried deep in my pores. I tightened my hold on the yielding body and nudged by nose lovingly against the smooth ringlets, inhaling a lungful of the strawberry tinged odour.

"You smell lovely," my morning voice whispered between the fine locks as my fingertips carded through them of their own accord.

"Have you ever smelled yourself?" came a raspy reply from somewhere near my collarbone.

"No, that would certainly be considered dodgy," I chuckled.

"Fine. More Louis-infused air for me." He drew in a huge breath and exhaled a contented sigh that tickled my skin pleasantly.

"Hmm will you make me breakfast, Harry?" I drawled leisurely while trailing my fingers along the pretty expanse of skin upon Harry's arm.

"M'kay, but only if you're sated with scrambled eggs because I'm simply too lazy to make anything fancy right now."

"Deal, love," I pressed my lips chastely against his forehead, sealing the agreement. "While you do that, I'm going to take a shower," I said before reluctantly pulling myself from the warm sheets and skin. Harry whined but heaved himself up as well to start that breakfast.

The shower was short but relaxing; very much needed after the yesterday's dramatic endeavours. When I stepped out of the bathroom with only a towel hanging from my hips, I heard a liquid "crack!" over the buzz of the radio speaker.

"Harry?"

When no reply sounded through the flat I scurried into the kitchen, alarmed that something was wrong.

And wrong something certainly was.

Harry sat curled up with his back against the washing machine, hugging his knees to his body. I rushed to him and scooped him in a comforting embrace, deeming him not outright sobbing, but something quite near it. I carried him to the bedroom - careful not to step in the cracked egg that littered the floor - and laid him upon the unmade bed before joining him a second later, letting him weep onto my bare chest.

"Harry, love, speak to me. What happened? Why are you upset?" It was obvious in my voice that I was on the verge of tears myself, just from Harry being unhappy. He swallowed a few times before,

"On-on the wireless-," the corners of my lips tugged, because seriously, who said the wireless anymore? "-and they were dis-discussing Larry Stylinson and interviewing people and their thoughts and there was an old geezer who-who said-," Harry hiccupped, his words dying on his tongue.

"What did he say, Harry?" I said, both with concern and contempt evident in my tone.

"He said we don't act like-like a real couple and that we're too young and stupid to realise that this whole thing is just short te-term. S- said we would realise later how disgusting we were when being together and then he started ranting about how we didn't look good together, how my t-tall abnormal frame looked so awkward next to you because you're the older one and ugh, shit like that," Harry had to pause for some breathing space because he'd worked himself up pretty bad.

"And then! Then he said that our parents should have raised us better than to fall in love with the same gender and then he called mum and Jay such discriminating words and wished them to hell. As well as wished us to hell to burn along them for the sins we've committed. Oh, Louis! All I did was love! Why am I being punished for that?"