My First Real Crush [Larry Stylinson]

*3*

The bus stops once again, but this time more controlled. I notice everyone beginning to get up and get ready to get out of the bus. I look down at Harry, so peacefully asleep. I don't know how he did that. Fall asleep instantly and in the strangest of places. I wish I didn't have to wake him up. I wish that I could just stay here, with my hands manipulating each curl on his head and watching his eyes dart as he dreams about a wonderful place. I wish that I could lay my head down onto his side, using it as a bed, with my hands wrapped around his waist. I wish that I could so comfortably intertwine our bodies together so that every part of both of us is touching, but I can't. Unfortunately, we have a plane to catch so I can't do any of those things. Plus, I mean, I don't want to anyways.

I lower my head towards his and move his hair away from his ear.

"Wake up Harry, we're at the airport. We're going home."

He opens his eyes slowly and unwraps his arms from my legs as he lifts his head off of my lap, instantly making my legs feel cold and naked even though I have sweatpants on. I sigh. He sighs.

"Okay let's go." He says, his voice breaking though half of his sentence from his tiredness. He stands up and offers me his hand. I take it wrapping my fingers around his hand and my thumb in between his index finger and thumb. I stand up and grab the small duffel bag I had under my seat, still holding onto his hand as I lean down. I only release once I have my bag in my hand. But he doesn't release. His hand still wrapped tightly around mine. When I had released he had done quite the opposite, he squeezed, sending a tingle up my arm and down my body, hitting me everywhere, especially my crotch.

What the fuck is happening.

The aisle is slim and there's not room for the two of us, so he squeezes ahead, still holding onto my hand, and trails his arm behind him. It's not a comfortable position for either of us, so I'm not sure why he's still holding me, but I definitely don't complain. I tighten my grip again as he leads us out of the bus.

We walk hand in hand as we go into the private airport. He bumps into my side every time he walks with his left leg forward. We never hold hands regularly so I'm quite confused about what is happening now, but it's nice, so I don't stop it. We only let go when we get to where we're supposed to get into the plane. He let's go first and once our hands leave each other, I feel that horrible chill and nakedness in my hand. Once again I sigh, and he answers with another sigh as well.

4 of us, Zayn, Liam, Harry and I flood into one plane, expected to land south of Bradford, while Niall and his bag of chips go into a separate plane, expected to land near his hometown of Mullingar. We had all shared our hugs and goodbyes and best wishes for the vacation before we parted ways. I'll miss the Irish lad, but we'll see him in just two short weeks.

As we board the plane, Liam takes the recliner immediately to the left of the entrance, and Zayn takes the recliner sitting across from Liam. On the right side of the plane is a bench seat and another recliner. Harry walks in first and sits on the bench seat. I would've immediately rushed to the recliner if I had walked in first except that Harry had so unselfishly taken the bench seat that I would've felt terrible not sitting next to him. Mates wouldn't do that to each other. So I sit myself next to Harry on the bench seat. It's a comfortable spot but I like it better than I should because Harry's here.

He looks at me and smiles when I sit down, I can tell he's happy I didn't take the recliner.

Our manager walks in and chuckles. "Didn't think there would be a recliner left for me. I was almost positive I would have to sit on the bench seat, so thanks lads."

Harry and I chuckle.

For the first hour or so of the flight, I sit facing Harry with my leg once again propped up onto the seat pushing into his thigh. We play hand games like Chopsticks and Rock Paper Scissors. They're all games of luck but somehow Harry keeps losing. Whenever he loses he sticks his bottom lip out and pouts. Oh how much I want to bite that lip of his.