WHAT REALLY MATTERS - LARRY STYLINSON FANFICTION

Confessions

In Harry's room, Louis immediately drops down on the bed with a heavy sigh. He's got his hands folded in his lap and he's staring off into the distance. Harry, not knowing what else to do, starts flitting around the room, full of nervous energy. He washes his hands, he picks up clothes off the floor, he opens the window, he straights up things on the shelf that don't need to be straightened, anything to keep himself occupied. When he runs out of things to do, he looks at Louis, who is still sitting there, staring. With a sigh of his own, he heads into the kitchen to make some tea for the two of them. He thinks about everything that's happened that day and he's really worried about how Louis is handling it. He grabs one of his mugs out of the cupboard, the one with the contented cat hugging a mouse, and another mug for himself. He puts them on a tray with a small jar of honey, a pot of sugar, and some milk.

He finds Louis outside on the balcony, smoking. Harry sets the tray down on the rickety table next to Louis. "I wasn't sure how you liked your tea, so I brought all this. I didn't want to ruin it and-"

"A splash of milk and a spoonful of sugar," Louis says, cutting him off. He grabs the mug with the cat, the corner of his mouth tipping up. "You worry too much about me."

Harry shakes his head. "I think I worry about you just enough, actually." He sits down on the other chair and fixes his own tea. Louis doesn't answer, instead leaning over to ruffle Harry's hair. It makes Harry smile and his stomach erupts with butterflies. He turns into the touch and is a bit sad when Louis pulls back.

They sit quietly together, drinking their tea for a while. "You shouldn't have had to deal with that," Harry remarks. "Any of that shit."

Harry startles a bit, not expecting to hear Louis talking after so long. He waits for Louis to add to it, but instead the older boy lights up another cigarette. Harry bites his tongue. "What do you mean?"

Louis lets out a laugh, the sound bitter. "You don't need to get involved in my shit. My dad, Julie, my friends . . . none of that. You're too good for this."

Harry frowns and looks at Louis. "You're my friend, Louis. Why wouldn't I?"

Louis shrugs and takes another drag of his cigarette. "Remember when you went to the club for the first time? In my room? And I didn't do anything to protect you? That's the kind of guy I am, Harry." He takes another drag and blows the smoke out slowly. "My whole life, I've been that guy. You know, the first time I sold drugs for my dad, I was nine years old? He told me if I didn't, he'd break one of my mom's fingers for every time I told him no. I lost my virginity of age thirteen. My dad shoved me into one of those rooms upstairs, told me to watch and learn something. One of the new girls he had hired was getting fucked by this old guy, and when he was finished, he just got up and left. She saw me there and told me I could have a go if I wanted." Louis rubs his face. "When my mom died, I was fifteen. My dad told me that he was glad she was gone and he wished she had died sooner because her being sick was making her useless to him. When I told him I wanted to keep some of her stuff, he said I had to earn it. He told me I had to drug some of his prostitutes and fuck them until they passed out, and then to take their money. I got a bunch of my friends hooked on drugs so my dad would have steady stream of customers. I spent so much of my time drunk and high that I barely remember the last five years beyond how many girls I've fucked." He pauses and takes a deep breath, looking Harry in the face. "Girls like Julie. Girls I got to like me and I would just use them for sex until I was tired of them. They didn't mean anything to me. None of them." He stops and takes another drag, his lips curling into a mean smile as he's shaking his head, letting out a small huff. "That's why, Harry. That's why I'm not worth you doing all this." His shoulders are back and his entire body is tense. It makes Harry think back to the first time they met and it makes him sad.