Imprisoned In My Heart: A Larry Stylinson Fanfic

12.

Chapter Twelve

Over the desk, Harry and Louis were having a staring competition. Neither of them had verbally acknowledged the childish game, but their eyes had been locked together unblinkingly for a good few minutes, and they sat frozen in place, waiting. Louis had his arms resting on his desk and was leaning forwards slightly, while Harry lolled back in his chair and watched him with a relaxed, open expression. Of the two of them, Harry was the least afraid to show his feelings; he wasn’t scared of disapproval if anyone found out the thoughts running through his head about the owner of the blue eyes he was watching. Louis was slowly nibbling his bottom lip as he watched Harry: his mouth was the only part of his body that moved; he was holding his breath. They hadn’t spoken since Harry had first entered the room and taken his usual seat, and Louis was comfortable with the silence. He used the opportunity to examine Harry thoroughly. His eyes were lit up from the inside with emotions; love, happiness, laughter and an ever so slight tinge of longing. Shivering slightly at the intensity of the emerald-eyed gaze, Louis took a deep breath and licked his lips nervously, knowing that he shouldn’t have been so deeply fascinated by Harry’s eyes. His gaze carefully drifted upwards to take in the rest of Harry’s face with an odd sense of excitement tingling deep in his abdomen, although he wasn’t entirely sure why. Eyes lingering on Harry’s face, Louis stopped to take it all in. Several chocolate brown curls had fallen across Harry’s forehead, one of them particularly catching Louis’ attention because it slightly obscured one eye. Still, it was one of many; each one looked unbelievably soft and so shiny…Louis wanted to touch them, to grab handfuls of silky brown curls and feel them sliding through his fingers. Appraisingly, Louis let his gaze slip downwards, all the way down, wanting the entire Harry Styles Visual Experience. One of the first things that caught his attention was Harry’s neck, odd as that sounded. He loved Harry’s neck; there was just so much of it that was gorgeous. Amazing collarbones that you could really see but not in a disgusting way, the necklaces that he always wore…and then that jawline, good grief. Louis had spent a lot of his time thinking about that. But eventually he pulled his gaze even further upwards, and sexiness hit him like bullets: bang, bang, bang. Perfect swirling green eyes  – bang. Nose that you just wanted to tap the end of whenever he wore that cheeky smile – bang.  Lips that were made to give the sweetest of kisses, lips that were beautiful when smiling or scowling or even when he was crying, lips that Louis dreamt of at night and that he longed to have touching his – bang. And God the dimples – bang.

All of this took Louis only a few seconds to enjoy.

In return, Harry was returning every smouldering stare with a fiercely longing glance of his own; he was examining Louis just as thoroughly as Louis was watching him. Harry was a perfectionist and the details mattered to him, so every second of observation was spent scrutinizing every last detail of Louis’ face, committing it to memory. Louis’ hair needed cutting; the brown, silky tips hung in front of his dark, smoky blue eyes. His lips looked soft; they were pale pink and as Louis’ mouth tightened with thought, they turned white. Curiously, Harry touched his own lips with the tip of one finger. They didn’t feel soft in the slightest – whereas Louis had lips like a girl’s; rose-petal pink and silky smooth. The very thought of what it would feel like to touch those lips against his own sent Harry’s heart racing with anticipation of something that could never come; he shifted in his chair, fighting the urge to leap up and throw his arms around Louis’ neck and kiss him anyway. Swallowing hard to push away the almost overwhelming desperation rising in his chest, he directed his attention to Louis’ sparkling cerulean eyes instead; a far safer and more innocent place to look. They reminded him of whirlpools, dark and stormy and filled with a passionate fire that took Harry’s breath away, even though he refused to let himself belief that the longing in Louis’ eyes was intended for him.