Golden Gloves (Larry Stylinson) {Co-written with @bradfords}

Chapter 13

HOW IS IT THE 1ST OF NOVEMBER I SWEAR IT WAS JUST FRICKEN FEBRUARY.

ANYWAYS, CHAPTER 13. HOPE YOU LIKE IT. (-: xKAITY

“He has to go.”

“He’s distracting you.”

“You should have won that fight.”

“They’re disgusted by your gayness.”

“You and I both know that it won’t be anything serious.”

I’ve been thinking about these words all day and it hurts. It physically and mentally hurts. I feel as though someone’s stabbed me in the chest, although I also believe that it couldn’t be as painful as this.

“Lou…?” Harry’s voice booms through the hotel room, catching me off guard. I thought he was still out getting pizza for us. I’m not sure why I even sent him to get it; it’s kind of a dick move on my part, seeing as he’s still hurt. He claims that since it’s been a little over a week, he’s feeling better, but I know he’s lying. I can see it when he slowly rises from the couch, his eyes shut tight from the pain. I can see it when he walks, or limps really, but thinks I don’t notice. I can see it when he shivers every time my fingers brush over his broken parts when we’re kissing.

“Hi.” I sigh.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asks me, his eyebrows furrowed in worry.

“Nothing, I’m fine.” I lie.

“Tell me?” His demand sounds more like a question, so I take it as one. It’s much easier to say no to a question than it is a demand, anyway. I shrug off his ‘question’ and open the pizza box, grabbing a slice and bringing the tip to my mouth. Harry grabs one too, ignoring my shrug. We both sit on the couch, but each of us are on complete opposite sides, and I’m leaned up against the arm, making it seem like I’m trying to run away from him. Am I? “So are you gonna tell me why you’re pissed at me?” Harry’s harsh tone catches me off guard, stilling me.

“I’m fine.” I spit, hoping to God he won’t fight with me. I heard what his manager said, “you and I both know this won’t be anything serious.” But I want to believe that’s not true. I want to believe that every night I’ll fall asleep in his arms, and every morning I’ll wake up in them too.

“Okay…” Harry rolls his eyes but shrugs the rejection off.

“Just leave me alone!” I cry and run into my bedroom in the hotel room. I lock the door behind me, and slide down the frame of it. I’m embarrassed that I just stormed off like a little girl, but right now my emotions are so jumbled I don’t even know how to feel. I’m sad, angry, stressed, horny, and so many other unexplainable emotions that I can’t express.

“LOUIS PLEASE OPEN THE DOOR.” Harry yells an hour later, his large fist pounding on the door. Afraid that he’ll push his fist through, like he did the wall this morning, I unlock the door and quickly shuffle to the bed, trying to wipe the endless tears from my face. The door handle starts to turn and I cover my soaked, red face in between my knees and my chest. “L-Louis?” Harry stutters, obviously shocked and uncertain about my sudden breakdown. I’m positive that he’s never had to comfort anyone but himself like this before, as all he does is sit next to me on the dark, rubbing circles on my back.

It feels like hours, but I’ve really only been crying in front of him for fifteen minutes, with a tension filled silence swirling in the air above us. It’s not an angry tension, just an awkward one. I hardly let anyone see me cry like this; only my best friend Zayn, because I know he can soothe and help me. Harry on the other hand, is awkward, and has no clue what he can do to help, so he just sits there, his hand continuing to draw circles on me.