EXTREMELY IMPORTANT NOTE: I DID NOT WRITE THIS ONE SHOT. It was written by a user on Tumblr, and I simply copied and pasted. I will not take any credit whatsoever, because it is not mine nor am I affliciated with the author of it in any way. I just really liked it. If you are or know the user that wrote this, I will take it off of Wattpad if requested, I can completely understand that. I just thought I'd make that clear, because I do not want to be accused of finding this on tumble and taking credit, because here it is. By the way, I don't know the author's tumblr URL or username.
Behind Closed Doors: A Larry Stylinson One-Shot
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3,129
A/N: This is extremely angsty and I feel like everyone will hate me for writing this. But I'm twisted, so I wrote it anyway. So, if you're not ready to feel upset, don't read this.
Disclaimer: None of this happened; this is completely fiction, I know, because if this was real, I would be jumping off a cliff.
"So, how are we gonna do this?"
Taken out of context, the question seems innocent enough. But if one were to look into Harry's eyes and watch him for a moment as he blew perfect rings of smoke towards the ceiling, they would catch that sinister edge.
Louis turned to him, pressing his naked body to Harry's side. He plucked the cigarette from Harry's fingers and put it between his own lips. He exhaled the smoke right in Harry's face, making him cough. Louis chuckled. "Are you serious this time?"
Harry took the cigarette back from Louis and took a puff before putting it out on the wood of the bedside table. "Yeah, I think I've had about enough." Louis kissed Harry's bloody knuckles and smiled. Harry smiled back at him, brushing away a teardrop that clung to Louis' eyelash. They had a rough day, and whenever that happened, that same "idea" always crept up from somewhere.
They talked about it more than they wanted to. It started off as a joke, something silly Louis had said when they were both so drunk that they laughed at everything. They were laughing about Eleanor and how people, some of their "fans," worshipped her like she was the second coming of jesus, or something. At the mention of how most of their "fans" actually believed Louis and Eleanor were in love, the two of them went into hysterics.
"Sometimes I wonder," Harry had said that night "what those girls would do with themselves if she just dropped dead one day." And Louis laughed and laughed until he just stopped, his eyes widening as if he had an idea. "Why don't we just kill her," he had said, making his voice sound dark and evil. Harry, at the time, shook his head at him and they just kept drinking and kept laughing.
An impromptu trip to France lit a fire inside the both of them though Louis was good at hiding it. Harry, on the other hand, walked around with a scowl because he wore his heart on his sleeve and his anger across his chest. The moment Louis returned, he and Harry made love on the floor right in the doorway because Harry couldn't wait. Afterwards, they just shut themselves into their bedroom like they always did. They huddled under the blankets, drinking cheap liquor and sharing a cigarette because they only smoked with each other. It was part of their bond and also a part of them that no one knew about. No one knew just how much they loved each other; people liked to believe they knew things about their relationship, about their personalities, but they didn't. No one would have guessed that Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson would spend that Sunday morning together wrapped up in each other in their bed still damp with sex, reading over a sketchy internet article explaining how to cover up a murder, "just for shits and giggles." No one knew what went on when the two of them escaped into their own special world they'd created for each other to share. No one, including Louis, noticed how on edge Harry was.
