One Wish ~ Larry Stylinson

Chapter 8

Harry tried to keep his bottom lip from wobbling, arms wrapping around his own body and fisting the fabric of his top.

He was staring at the door, the door Louis had disappeared behind just seconds ago. His heart was beating at an incredible speed, due to both his nervousness and the aftermath of the rough sex.

"Fuck," he whined inaudibly, burying his fingers in his hair and pulling on it to calm himself down.

He'd just go up there and apologise - they hadn't gotten caught, after all. But Louis seemed so.. angry.

Harry was almost scared of his reaction once he'd enter his office again.

He let go of his curls, not bothering to fix them as he'd usually do, and left the cafeteria too, hesitantly making his way up to Louis.

But when he reached the door, slowly pushing it open and peeking in, the room was empty. Louis' jacket and bag were gone too.

Harry almost started crying then and there.

He didn't even know why, really. He didn't know why he was sad, in the first place.

It was probably his need to do everything right, to be flawless. He hated doing things wrong, he hated disappointing.

And he definitely did disappoint Louis.

Enough to make him leave without saying another word.

Enough to, maybe, make him end their.. thing.

And what made it even worse was the fact that Louis was right.

His ideas were stupid.

He acted before he thought, a habit that he'd always hated about himself, and Louis didn't seem to like it either.

Maybe this was his cue to finally change and fucking think.

His father had always told him that he should think about the consequences first, but Harry'd never listened. He just lived.

He hadn't thought about it either when he first wore his favourite skirt.

He'd been wearing it at home in his room for weeks, and then he confidently wore it to school.

It was a soft baby blue, and he'd paired it with a white blouse. He still could remember every detail of that day.

It was the day he'd realised that he loved having people's eyes on him, the day he'd realised that he loved being different.

And no one had ever tried to stop him.

So maybe that's why he didn't know that sometimes, he needed to stop himself.

~

Harry trotted down the hallway in the next morning, still a little uneasy and anxious.

He, obviously, hadn't heard of Louis since the.. incident the day before and it felt weird to knock on the door of his office like nothing had happened, but he tried to ignore the uncomfortable tingle in the pit of his stomach.

Maybe he'd tell Harry to leave, maybe he wouldn't even talk to him, maybe he'd act like nothing had happened.

Probably not the last one, though.

Harry pushed all of the worries to the side and slowly stepped into the bright room, pelting rain was blurring the view onto London.

The weather represented Harry's mood.

But his eyes weren't on the rain, or the clouds, or the sky.

They were on the beautiful man sitting in front of it, looking up at Harry with an unreadable expression on his face.