All Too Familiar (Larry Stylinson)

Room 75

Let's just take a moment to appreciate this GIF.

OHEMGEE. Their cute little legs are touching and practically playing with eachother, when they both look up and just meet eyes. Dammit that's L.O.V.E right there!

Squeeeee, right on!

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Hey everybody, long time no see! 

Well here's a new chapter, that I'm sure you've all been waiting for! I realize this is shorter than my normal 4,000 words, but I hope you don't plan on selling me short, because it is a nice chapter. Like I told you, this all won't be about Larry Stylinson, but more on both of their lives until the plot really comes along. So no, there is no Harry or any of the boys in this. But that's okay, right?

I will upload the new chapter when I get 111 votes and 45 comments! Love you guys! xx

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Dedicated to LiloLovin for being the 30th voter! x

Word Count: 3,383

Song: Too Close.

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Louis POV

“We’ve been gifted with two more weeks of vacation. Give me two weeks; if I can’t persuade you to join our band, then you’ll never see me again.”

I shouldn’t even be having this conversation with a stranger.

But my vocal cords worked without demand.

“Fine.”

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Then before I knew it, he was gone, just like he had come. He was just whisked away in the wind, effortlessly lifting himself out the window as I just stood there, running my fingernails over my burned skin, wincing at the tinges of pain. They weren’t nearly as painful as it usually was, when I would head to the shower and let the hot, steaming water run over the peach skin. However for some reason, as I watched he sneak across my yard, I couldn’t bring myself to the torture.

So I just stood there, holding my arm as the maroon curtains swayed with the wind, crumbling over itself every now in then.

It took me a few seconds before the chills of the night’s breezes hit hard, bringing my hair on and I took wobbly steps for the window. The windowsill was scratched only slightly, black with the bottom of Harry’s careless shoe that had screeched against the pure white material. If I didn’t scrub that off, my father would be down my throat about it. But the ripples of anticipation and jitteriness were still wrecking my skin, toying with my muscles. As if I was a cat’s tail, rattled and shaken.

Shakily pulling the window shut, I hesitated to lock it. I didn’t.

I walked for my bed, my feet still unsure with themselves. I felt as if every time my knee gave out, every time my heel lost its balance that I’d fall face first. I’d rather not sport another black eye though. There was meeting with my father tomorrow, dinner with a neighbor. I was scared; no doubt the waves of fear running up my body making my heart beat almost as fast as Harry did.

Every time I went to someone’s house, my father put me on the spot, spouting on and on about his lies about my wonderful life and how I took it for granted. Tomorrow he’d tell Mrs. and Mr. Davidson that I had gone out last night and gotten in a drunken fight, when all along he had beaten me, letting his anger once again slip out only to veil it with a sin covered sheet, something that never caught me by surprise. I knew it was coming, I knew exactly when it would happen;