I Love You But I Can't Breathe

Chapter Fifteen

Hello to everyone still reading this! Thank you thank you thank you for not giving up on me/this story yet! I finished my exams, moved countries again, started a new full time job and I've barely had time to sit down. Lots of love and I'm hoping the next chapter will only take a week or two, I've got some free time (finally) this weekend :) <3 

Harry woke up a few hours later on the living room couch, stirred back awake by a sharp ache in his legs.

"Mfhhhh," he groaned, fumbling around for a pillow to clutch onto. 

Louis slipped him his fluffy white teddy bear and smoothed back his curls, which were starting to stick to his forehead. 

"You having bad dreams, hun?" Louis murmured, still running his fingers gently through his boyfriend's hair. 

"It hurts, Lou, stop... want it to stop, make it stop, Lou," Harry whined, digging his nails into his plush stuffed animal. 

Louis' soft arched brows drew together in concern but he shook out one of the painkillers from the bottle and handed it to the younger boy with a glass of water. "Should I call the doctor or...?"

"No," Harry mumbled into his glass before taking the medicine. 

"Tell me where it hurts, babe," Louis said patiently. 

Harry rubbed his hands up and down his thighs. "All over here." 

"S'okay, love, I got you," Louis said, sitting down on the couch, carefully straddling Harry's legs and beginning to press the heels of his hands into Harry's firm thigh muscles. 

Harry let out a shivery sigh as Louis gently massaged into the sore muscles. 

"I got you," Louis said softly, and he watched his boyfriend's green eyes start to flicker closed. He thought back to that moment, not too long ago- although it felt like ages now- when Harry had shyly admitted 'I like being yours... it's nice when you take care of me'. Louis had to do a lot more caring now than he did when the pair first got together but somehow he felt comfortable slipping into the caretaker role. 

"Babe?" 

Harry half snorted, waking himself up from drifting off. "S'up, Lou?" 

"You remember how we met?" 

"Course I do," Harry smiled, his eyes still closed. 

Louis gently ran his thumb across Harry's eyebrows, captivated by the delicate curves of his boyfriend's face. 

"It's the stupidest story ever," Harry grinned fondly. 

* * * 

"No no no no no," Harry muttered. He'd been working at the dry cleaners for three weeks now and of course he'd found a way to mess up already. He clutched the pair of pink football shorts to his chest. Maybe he could will them back to being white. Or bleach them? Would bleach work?

Harry cringed as he heard the front entrance bell. 

"Welcome to Al's Laundromat. How May I help you?" he asked, still clutching onto the pink shorts distractedly. It was a rare day when anyone Harry's age came into the laundromat, let alone someone so-

"Hi... um, are those my shorts?" 

"Huh?" Harry said, his jaw hanging slightly. He suddenly felt dehydrated. 

"Are those my football shorts?" the boy asked again. "I was supposed to get the grass stains off before our big tournament, I don't remember requesting for a dye job?"

"Shit. I mean, shoot... I mean, oops, I just..." Harry still held the shorts balled up in his hands. It was an absolute occasion when he found anyone attractive. It really didn't happen often. But this boy was... mad? Was this boy mad at him? He'd ruined his footie shorts. There was just something so bright about him, Harry felt like he'd just taken three espresso shots when he walked into the room. He was jittery enough that it wouldn't have been a stretch. 

"I'm new here," Harry blurted. 

"So it would seem," the boy said playfully. He looked at the pink shorts and sighed. "As if I wasn't already the gayest one on the team." 

"What?" Harry said, his heart rate picking up. 

"Mm, does that interest you, love? Me being with boys?" the boy asked, his blue eyes flickering mischievously. 

Harry felt like his insides were on fire, and his eyes darted around the room, making sure they were alone. Something about talking to this blue eyed boy felt thrillingly intimate. 

"Would it interest you to know there's a certain boy at the laundromat I have my eye on?" the boy asked. "He can't do laundry for shit, but I'm sure he has other talents." 

The blush that crept up Harry's cheeks felt like it had taken over his whole body. 

"Has anyone ever taken you on a date before, Curly?" 

No.

"I've been... busy," Harry said defensively. 

"Clearly," the boy said. "Running this whole laundromat empire all by yourself. I'm just saying, hypothetically if I were to get gellato tomorrow and you were there... I don't know, it could be fun." 

Harry's mouth felt too dry to answer. He'd only ever been asked out by girls before, and they'd eventually stopped asking when he kept saying no. 

"I mean, this isn't like a hostage scenario," the boy rambled. "Blink twice if you don't want to come." 

Harry's eyes almost watered with the sudden fear of blinking. 

"Yeah, I think, I think that might be okay. What time were you...? Just because I have work and I don't know how long it'll take me to get to the ice cream place and-" he stopped himself from ambling on when he saw the boy smiling at him. "Sorry," Harry said. "Just, um, not used to this." 

"That's okay," the boy said. "You text me your schedule and I'll work something out, okay?" 

Harry nodded as the boy scrawled down his number in barely passable handwriting. 

"Sorry again about your shorts," Harry said. 

The boy shrugged. "Everyone spends enough time staring at my arse anyway. Least now they have an excuse."  The boy snatched up his shorts with a grin and left Harry feeling lightheaded. 

Harry looked down at the piece of paper. 

Louis Tomlinson xxx 974 555 6812

He flipped it over. 

You're cute when you're nervous by the way. 

Harry had to press his hands to his cheeks to stop from turning cherry red. Louis Tomlinson... Louis Tomlinson... 

He fell asleep that night with the scrap of paper next to his pillow.