Caught [l.s] (boyxboy)

IM Alone

"Talk to him, Lou."

Louis sighs, tugging at his lower lip. "I'm just. 'm scared, Mum. Scared I've done something wrong without realizing it. What if he's waiting for me to figure it out on my own? The last thing I want is to make him think I don't pay attention to how he feels."

Louis hears scuffling on the other end as his mum presumably sets down her cuppa (the hour is really ungodly and Harry's nowhere to be found; his car is gone as well) and shifts the phone. "That's the last conclusion he'll jump to, love."

"I love him." Louis' voice cracks; he cringes. He hates this weakness, this vulnerability that he feels whenever Harry's around. He hates the feeling of someone else controlling his life. He hates the dominance Harry has over him without either one of them realizing it. He hates Harry, actually (but boy oh boy, is he in fucking love with him). "I don't know what to do."

"Baby," her voice soothes, heavy from sleep and dripping with calm and comfort. "You're overthinking the entire thing."

"What if I'm not?"

"You are," Jay answers firmly. "It sounds to me like he's just in a mood."

But Harry isn't in a mood, this much Louis knows. Harry doesn't get in moods. He's only cold when he's got a reason and that's one of the many things Louis appreciates, but it's also the most irritating quality Harry can have at the moment. "You're probably right."

"Of course I'm right. Mums are always right." Cue the sipping sounds and the slosh of hot tea in a cool mug; Louis really misses his mother. "You're coming next week to visit me, aren't ye'?"

"Maybe, I don't really know." Louis traces patterns onto the denim of his trousers. "It depends."

"Let me know. Oh, and bring that boyfriend of yours-" It's ridiculous how 'boyfriend' has Louis blushing hot and wiggling his toes, really. "He's a charmer."

"You act as if he's a bloke I brought in off the street." Louis' brain is only half paying attention to this conversation, if he's being honest. "But. I'll pass the message along."

"You're lovely." Just as Louis opens his mouth to respond, the front door clicks open; Harry slips inside in all his glory, dressed in a sleek leather jacket with - shades? - perched on his mound of curls. Louis' throat immediately tightens and his tongue becomes a heavy block of sandpaper in his mouth. "Listen, I've got to go now."

"But-"

"I love you, Mum." She protests a bit more, but Louis hangs up and tucks the phone into his pocket. Harry looks at him as he slides his jacket off his shoulders and lets it fall to the ground. Harry licks his lips; Louis squirms.

"Where've you been?" Louis tries to ask casually; he fails. It comes out accusing and sharp. Harry's eyes narrow as he shrugs meekly. Louis clenches his jaw. "You can't just disappear for hours and then refuse to tell me where to."

"It's none of your goddamned business, is it?" Harry snaps, spinning on his heel and parading into the kitchen. Louis blinks twice.

"Excuse me?" he calls after Harry, lurching to his feet and stomping onto the hardwood flooring of the kitchen.

Harry doesn't even pay him a glance. "You heard me. Get put of my hair, Louis, for once in your life-"

"I don't know who you think you are, but I don't think I fancy the attitude you're giving me." Louis feels like a bad parent instead of a boyfriend. "Care to explain why you've been acting as if you've got a foot shoved two kilometers up your ass?"

Harry actually has the fucking nerve to glare at him in response. "I was out getting some fresh air."

"Why the fuck do you need fresh air at five in the morning?" Louis snorts. Harry pours himself a glass of milk and drains half of it before he answers again.

"I don't need to explain myself to you."

"Yes you do," Louis protests. "I'm your boyfriend and I want to know where you were."

"Exactly. You're my boyfriend. Not my mum." Harry pushes past Louis and begins to stride down the hallway. "So leave me alone."

"No!" Louis is becoming angrier by the second. "Not until you explain why you've been acting like such an arsehole."

Harry stops in his tracks. "I'm not acting like an arsehole."

"Yes you are."

"Maybe you should just leave, then, if I'm so hard to stand."

Louis huffs around the lump in his throat. "Maybe I will."

Harry's eyes flash with Louis' words. "Great. I'll even pack your bags for you."

Louis' hand is acting solely on his own accord when it darts up and slaps Harry square across the face, he promises. Harry clutches his pink cheek with one hand and shoves Louis back with the other. "What the fuck?"

"Stop treating me like shit!" Tears well in Louis' eyes. "I'm a person. Not the dirt on the bottom of your shoe."

"You may as well be with the amount you've been clinging to me lately," Harry shoots back. "You're always picking and prodding and poking- Jesus Christ, I can't fucking take it anymore!"

"Then get out!" Louis doesn't mean it. He prays Harry will see trough the clenched fists and the loud voice and notice the tear stained cheeks and trembling lip. "Get out."

Harry does get out. He storms out the door, slamming it behind him; the walls seem to shake with the finality of Louis' words.

"I love you," he whispers to himself, because no one else is around to accidentally hear it anymore. "Please stay."

_________________

aye it's the end of the chapter

B) QOTC: What's your favorite food?

A: oh my god. pizza. pizza is life. pizza never gets old. i. love. pizza. i love it so fucking much that i will eat pizza flavored anything and i will never. ever. deny a slice of pizza. i just. (that and cinammon toast crunch. don't ask why. i have an irrational love for those two things.)