You Put the Sun in Sunday; larry stylinson (bottom!louis) [completed]

3

The two friends make it back to campus in time for Louis' next shift at the library, Liam lugging his shopping bags to his dorm in the building next to Louis'. It's about seven in the evening when Louis walks into the library since it's a Saturday, the tables are nearly vacant.

The blue-eyed boy walks behind the desk, holding his three new 'babies' and slips off his coat but keeps his scarf wrapped around his neck. He greets Ms. Matilda with a kind smile, receiving one of her signature scowls. She wasn't the kindest ladies, but she was his boss. Taking his time, he goes to the front desk and grabs a nearby stool. His feet dangle as he flips open his new book, loving the freshness of it. He takes his glasses from the collar of his shirt and puts them on. Louis reads for almost a good hour, the library being a desert this time of day and Matilda is clicking away on her old computer in the back room.

Louis is in the middle of reading when he hears the small bell go off by the door. Louis doesn't look up from his book until a hand lands itself over one of the pages. Hands clad in shiny silver rings and pale but rough fingers. "Excuse me." He doesn't bother looking at the owner, he is all too annoyed and trying to read between the person's fingers.

"Who... the fuck is Joseph?"

His head snaps up, recognizing the voice and squints. "Harry?"

The boy's eyes are bloodshot red, his cheeks mirroring the same cherry flush and his lips stretched into a grumpy frown. He was drunk. "The fuck is Joseph?" He was still handsome when he was drunk. Louis looks back on Ms. Matilda, her head hidden behind the large computer. He blinks several times, standing from the stool and slowly moving Harry's hand from his book, trying not to stare at the size difference. Harry's hands were big enough to catch a football from long distances. They were also skilled, Louis shivers. "You're drunk."

"Maybe," Harry bursts into small giggles and Louis feels awkward, so he circles the corner of the front desk. Harry squints at the holes in Louis' clothes.

"Aren't you cold?" Louis inquires. Harry is wearing runners, jean shorts and a thin long sleeve shirt.

"Who the fuck is Joseph?" He raises his voice, and Louis shushes him. "Joseph..." Harry says louder. "The fuck... Joseph." Harry is close to shouting now. Louis gasps, hearing the familiar creak of Ms. Matilda's chair and pulls Harry down. They're both crouched behind the counter as Louis listens to Ms. Matilda's heels click on the floor until he hears the door to the backroom close. He knows that she's taking her nap, claiming she's resting her eyes whenever Louis catches her doing such. Harry lets out several whispers that are all "Joseph."

Louis stands up again, but Harry is sitting on the floor, legs spread and leaning on the desk, "Harry, you need to go home." He crosses his arms.

"You are so," Harry slumps lower, "lonely." The blue-eyed boy freezes, pulling his sleeves over his hands. Harry stands, wobbling and braces himself on the desk, "I bet you've never kissed a girl." Louis stiffens, and Harry eyes him. "Or a boy."

How could Harry's lips be so pink? It's futile, trying to hide his face because Louis blushes and Harry's mouth grows into a big smile. "You like boys." Harry's green eyes are wide.

Louis' cheeks flush deeper, spreading to his neck. "Go home." He mutters as Harry's eyes remain unfocused on his face.

Harry bursts into laughter, Louis is lucky the library is empty and Ms. Matilda's door is closed. "You are so pathetic." He leans over the desk, taking Louis' book and flipping through the pages. "Stupid book. Stupid words." His broad shoulders hunched over to make him look even more muscular, the material stretching.

Louis wasn't pathetic, he wasn't lonely and books weren't stupid. Pathetic. The word echoes in his brain, bringing back those memories of his childhood. The days he spent reading books in the comfort of his bed as the other children ran and played. Louis wasn't lonely then and he wasn't lonely now. There was nothing wrong with being lonely either Harry wouldn't understand. Louis' thoughts almost overtake his mind but before he can fall too deep, he snapped himself out of it. Harry was just drunk and pretty. Louis assumes that alcohol only heightens Harry's bad attitude and a big ego. Even with those cons, Louis can't help the magnetic pull he feels toward Harry.

"Reading isn't fun. You read alone." Harry shakes his head in distaste. "So lonely." He lets out a surprised noise when Louis snatches the book from his hands. In his mind, Louis knows Harry is wrong. Harry is just drunk. Drunk and honest.

When Harry reaches for Louis, the latter steps back. "Go away, Harry."

Surprisingly, Harry stands straight and stumbles to the door dragging his feet. "Bye, lonely boy," Harry grumbles. "See you on Monday."

"Sunday." Louis corrects, ignoring Harry's previous comments.

"Sunday, lonely boy." Harry nods once, then leaves, the bell ringing as he does.

Walking back to his dorm is quiet, but Louis' mind rattles about Harry's sudden appearance at the library. Louis wasn't lonely, no matter how many times Harry said it. He repeats it several times in his brain, he wasn't lonely.