Date

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Harry waited anxiously by the door for Louis, who always seemed to be running perpetually late to everything. He was wearing a black peacoat with a red scarf and dark denim skinny jeans, with a light blue jumper underneath and lace up boots on his feet. It was a simple enough outfit to wear, but Harry had spent nearly an hour agonizing over the perfect outfit, trying on one after another and never feeling satisfied--and certainly never feeling attractive.

Finally, after hearing all the racket, Zayn waltzed into his room and told him to calm down. "Haz," he said, gently, examining the array of jumpers and pants all over the floor. "You look great, love. What's wrong with your outfit?" Harry shrugged, embarrassed to be caught in the act of struggling with his image and looked at the floor.

"You're probably just nervous for your date," Zayn began, trying the best he could to relate to Harry. But deep down, he knew he couldn't. Sure, Zayn had felt a little insecure about his body from time to time, but never to the extent that Harry had... and never to the extent of panicking over clothes. He gave Harry a sad look, and tried to get the younger boy to look up at him instead of at the dusty corner behind his bed.

"Haz, I know it's tough, okay? I know you don't feel great right now. But trust me, if you could see what I see -- and what Liam sees and what Louis definitely sees— you'd know you look gorgeous in literally anything, love," Zayn said, touching Harry's shoulder with a firm grip. Harry looked at Zayn, studying his soft brown eyes and thoughtful smile.

"Thank you, Z. That's super sweet. I suppose you're right," Harry said with a sigh. He knelt down to start cleaning up the mess he had made, but Zayn stopped him. "Hey, I got this. Go have fun on your date, Haz. And take my red scarf -- it's lucky! It's the scarf I met in Liam in," he said with a giggle as Harry nodded and jumped towards the door, eager to get away from his closet and all the insecurities that came with it.

Now, as Harry waited, he wondered if Louis ever felt insecure about his body. He remembered he had said his exes made him feel like he wasn't good enough or attractive enough, but he wasn't sure that meant he didn't feel confident in his appearance. From the looks of it, Lou was super confident, always sporting some kind of super tight shirt or pair of skinny jeans, tussling his brown hair in ways that Harry never dared to style his. It was as though he loved attention.

Suddenly, Harry heard a knock at the door, and opened it to find Louis looking stunning in a pair of marroon skinny jeans and a silver winter coat with black converse that only enhanced the peppy, youthful glow he gave off. "Hey, Hazza. Sorry I'm late, love," Louis said, leaning in to give Harry a hug. Harry hugged him back, breathing in a bit of Louis' cologne as their torsos met -- it was strong and sporty, just the way he liked it.

"No worries, Lou. After you ran into my house in your underwear early in the morning, I've learned to live with the fact that you'll never be on time," replied Harry, coyly, a silly smile creeping across his lips. Louis stood on his tip toes and tried to kiss Harry on the forehead, completely underestimating how much taller he was than him. "Fuck," Louis said, laughing, as he missed and ended up kissing Harry's chin. Harry shook his head, his curls bouncing lightly on his shoulders, and smiled at Louis. "Forehead kisses are for you only, love. You're simply too short," he giggled, planting a smooch on Louis' head.

The two boys walked down the stairs and to the tube, shivering a bit in the winter cold as they waited for the train. "I can see my bloody breath," Louis said, laughing as he jumped up and down to keep warm as they stood under the dark green awning. "Stop jumping like a weirdo," Harry replied, watching with an exaggerated look of horror as Louis jumped to and fro on the platform.

Without thinking, Harry lunged forward and grabbed Louis in a bear hug, laughing all the while. Louis tried to squirm out his grip, but Harry was much stronger now, and he didn't let up. "Let go, Hazza," Louis said, chuckling as he strained against his biceps. "Okay, look the train is coming!"

Let Me Show You How to Love Yourself (Larry Stylinson) ✅Where stories live. Discover now