Caught [l.s] (boyxboy)

Final Chapter

Zayn doesn't look up at him, even as Louis crawls over and sits on his feet. He wiggles, trying to provoke a reaction from Zayn, but Zayn is so into the game on the screen that he fails to give Louis any sort of attention aside from a sharp kick to the bum. 

"Zayn," Louis whines. "Look at me. I want you to look at me."

Zayn does, lazily, and huffs. Louis looks at him expectantly. "You woke me up because you said there were important things that we needed to do today."

"There are," Zayn says slowly, as if this is some common knowledge that Louis should already have obtained. 

"There's quite literally nothing that needs to get done today."

Zayn doesn't respond. Louis pokes him in the stomach until he groans again.

"I just wanted you to get out of bed. Okay? I don't like it when you just. Lay there. And watch telly. And rot on the inside."

"Okay, well, you're lying down watching telly right now, so. Also, I don't think laziness causes one to rot on the inside, but."

"It's true. I read it on Web MD, Lou."

Louis bites his lip to keep himself from giggling. "Obviously a reliable source for accurate medical information, yeah?"

"Totally."

He sits in silence for a few moments, staring at his feet, before he turns to Zayn hopefully. "So... does this mean-"

"No."

"But-"

"Absolutely not. You are not going back to bed." 

"Why not?" Louis moans, standing up and crossing his arms childishly. He hates when Zayn tries to act like his mum, but really, he knows he'd never leave the house if he didn't. "I'm tired. And no offense, mate, but I really don't want to spend the rest of the morning... doing this."

"Fine, don't. But you're not going back in your room. Go out for a change, yeah?"

"It's ten in the morning."

"Bloody hell, Louis, go shopping. Or something. I don't know. Go buy yourself something nice. God knows you have enough money to buy out every store in town."

"Just because I have money doesn't mean I have to use it," Louis mutters defensively, though it doesn't do much in aiding his argument. 

"What other use for money is there?"

Louis pouts. The pout melts off his face quickly, though, because he knows it won't do a damn thing to change Zayn's mind. Zayn isn't Harry. 

Harry.

Louis closes his eyes and exhales for a moment, struggling to push the name out of his head. He hates himself for thinking of it in the first place, because he knows from personal experience that once Harry has made his appearance, the reminder that he was there won't fade for many days. Or weeks. Or months. Or years. 

He thinks of himself as a shell housing a part of Harry. A part of his past. A story he'll tell to his grandchildren. A lonely name that he'll think about from time to time only to forget by morning. And, he thinks he's okay with that. He's honored to have been loved by Harry Styles. He's proud to say that he loved his boy more than anyone had ever loved anyone, as biased as he may be. 

Just as he's a part of Harry's past, Harry is a part of his. The past. Over. Gone.

And then, along with the memories, Harry's name slips back into the sea of muddled thoughts and words stored in Louis' frazzled brain.