Undone, Undress (Larry Stylinson)

ten

He doesn't expect Harry to go out again that very night.

He does, though, and Louis finds himself staring without meaning to, when Harry bends over and a small slip of lavender lace peaks out above the waistline of his jeans. Lingerie. Louis' mind spins with the extraneous information that Harry is wearing lace panties right now beneath his clothes...

When he straightens up after slipping on his Chelsea boots, Louis looks away quickly and pretends to have been watching the TV. He fiddles with his phone, suddenly nervous. The last time Harry went out, he came back sobbing and battered with bruises.

He hurts me.

Louis sighs, leaning back into the couch. He can't get the thought of Harry wearing lace out of his traitorous mind. "Going out?" He asks, even though it's none of his business and anyway the answer is obviously yes.

Harry turns around and eyes him warily. "Yeah. Don't wait up for me."

"Got it," he mutters in response, trying to return his attention to the textbook on his lap. The words blur into one another and he finds he can't comprehend a single sentence.

Neither one of them says anything else as Harry leaves, locking the door behind him. Louis closes his textbook and groans loudly into the now otherwise empty flat.

He gets so little work done, it's pathetic. He ends up watching Pitch Perfect 2 while disregarding his textbook completely, and then fucks around on his phone, sending Liam memes from 2010 until he feels too exhausted to even keep his eyes open. Only then does he crawl into bed and turn out the light, falling asleep almost immediately.

Five hours later, Harry returns. From the comfort of Louis' own bed, he can hear Harry stumbling through the apartment. He can hear him crying.

Sitting up, belly filling with nerves, he stares at the wall until he's gained enough courage to leave his bed. Then he slips on a pair of sweats, because greeting a crying Harry while only wearing boxers would not be a fun experience. He tiptoes out of the room and tries to figure out how to approach the situation.

Harry is standing in the hallway with his back turned to him, hands covering his eyes and crying loudly. He looks significantly more disheveled than when he left, his shirt inside-out and his hair a mess. Sex hair. He has sex hair, Louis realizes with a start.

Louis decides to pretend he was just getting up to go to the bathroom. Harry turns around before he can plan and memorize any lines to play his part.

Harry doesn't say anything. He doesn't need to. The tears and the bruises speak for themselves.

Stupidly, Louis asks, "Are you alright?"

Obviously the answer is no. Harry gives him one long look before running his hand through his rumpled hair, tugging on the hem of his shirt, and disappearing inside his bedroom. Slamming the door shut hard.