(Harry's POV)
All of the pain, all the hurt, all the agony . . . I put my pent up emotions into this kiss. It's not full of love, it's not full of emotion or sparks, it's just a meaningless breathless snog, but it's what I want right now. What I need.
At first, the kiss was nothing. Just a simple messy kiss on the lips with no feelings or roughness, just anger and frustration.
But then Drew shoves his tongue in my mouth and presses his body against mine, and he digs his nails in my hips and growls into my mouth, and it's all just too much. Drew bites my bottom lip, hard, and I whimper because, damn, that really hurt. I try to disconnect our mouths but he keeps going, sandwiching me between the wall and his own body. He practically forces his tongue into my mouth and I attempt, and fail, to push him away. I want to tell him that I don't want this-- that it's all too much-- but he continues to snog the daylights out of me until I see stars, and not in a good way. In a bad way. He circles his hips against mine and moans in pleasure, but I don't, and I don't like this one bit. All I wanted was an innocent kiss to release my anger, not this.
And then his hands are gripping my sides, squeezing harshly, and by now I've stopped kissing back and he bloody knows this. He disconnects our lips, allowing me to breathe, and then moves his lips down to my neck where he peppers light kisses.
"Stop, Drew," I whine.
"Shut up," he grumbles. He bites into the skin on my collarbone and I feel tears wilt up in my eyes. I shove at his chest in an attempt to push him away, but he's much stronger than me. We both know that.
"Fucking hell, stop." I shove him once more but, yet again, he doesn't budge. Instead, he just gets rougher and digs his teeth deeper into the flesh of my neck, then licks it with languid strokes of his tongue. I don't like this.
"You know you want it," he hisses, breath ticking my skin. His hands find their way to the hem of my shirt and he yanks it upward but I whine and nudge him away with my thigh.
"You little slut," Drew breathes. He unbuttons my jeans and unzips them eagerly. I try to push him away again but he shoots me a death glare and orders me not to talk.
"Stop," I beg, eyes pleading. I don't want this to continue in the direction that it's going in, but he won't listen to me. He pulls my jeans down to my ankles, leaving me just in my boxers. I scramble to pull them back up.
"What the fuck—"
I'm interrupted with a loud smack, and I feel a sharp sting against my face. It burns up my skin and I cup my cheek in pain, my mouth hanging wide open.
"That hurt!"
"Good."
And then he's pulling at the top of my boxers and I want to scream, want to cry, because this has gone way too far. He must have figured this out because he covers my mouth with his hand, silencing me, and I feel like I can't breathe or move, and I start panicking and my heart starts beating out of my chest.
Drew hushes me. "Don't fret, my pet." His eyes are tinkling with mischief and it makes me sick to my stomach. All I wanted to do was kiss him, to express my anger towards Louis, but this is too much. I know what he's thinking and I don't want it. Not with him.
I bite his hand that's over my mouth, taking the sensitive skin of his palm in between my teeth. He curses and yanks his hand away, much to my relief. He examines his hand, eyes flickering over the bite mark, and growls in pain. I gulp.
"You shouldn't have done that," Drew grumbles.
He tsks and grabs my shoulders and then pushes me forcefully onto the bed, making me land face first into the pillows with a loud umph. No, no, no. This can't be happening. I feel Drew's weight straddle my back and his hands roam up and down my sides.
"Get off me!" I groan.
"Shut up!" he tells me, his voice echoing through the walls. He grabs at my curls, fisting them in his hands, and I yell in pain. Don't get me wrong, hair tugging is a massive turn on for me but this isn't just teasing and gentle-like how Louis does it, this is rough and angry and just plain painful.
"You want this, don't deny it," Drew whispers, looming over my back. I whimper in frustration and try squirming underneath his weight, but he doesn't budge.
"Drew, stop," I whimper.
"What did I tell you about talking!?"
I hear the door click open, followed by a loud, manly gasp. "What is going on!?" I immediately recognize the voice as my father's. I sigh in relief as Drew's weight is lifted off of my back.
I sit up immediately and watch Drew literally sprint out of my bedroom, zipping past my stunned and flustered father. I quickly button up my trousers and zip up my zipper. And then I hear the front door slam shut, and Drew's gone.
I don't even care now; I start crying. The tears pour out of my eyes, dripping down my reddened cheeks. I curl up in the bed and feel like I'm suffocating. The walls are closing in on me. I start hyperventilating and I can't breathe. My chest feels like it's being crushed. What if Dad hadn't walked in? What would Drew have done to me?
"Harry, what happened?" My father sits down on the bed and wraps his arm around me-- the most affection that he's showed me in a long time. He rubs cirlces on my back and I have to admit it helps me relax a little bit.
"Drew snuck in my room and h-he started kissing me and then he took off my clothes and I tr-tried to stop him but--"
"Did that son of a bitch rape you?" he demands, his voice lowering to an angry growl.
I immediately shake my head because, no, he didn't.
"But he did all of that to you without your consent?" he presses on.
I nod.
"I'm calling the police," he states and sits up from the bed, but I grab his wrist to stop him.
"Don't! Please, don't," I beg. "I don't want to make a big deal out of this. If Louis finds out-- I just, shit." And now I'm crying harder, y'know, the ugly sort of crying, when you choke on your own tears and gasp for air.
I bury my head in my hands and want to scream. I want to scream and cry and let it all out. I want to hold Louis and kiss him and apologize for everything. I know this will probably be the end of our relationship if he finds out. He'll never forgive me— Hell, I don't even forgive myself.
My dad pauses and gives me this weird look. I try to decode his facial expression but I can't. He's blank, like he's in deep thought, thinking something over.
"You really care about that Louis boy, don't you?" he finally asks.
"More than anything," I huff, sniffling away my tears.
He swallows thickly, his throat bobbing, and I feel like he might be judging me or maybe considering something. I'm not sure.
"Perhaps it would be best if you moved to London to live with him," he says finally, giving me a soft smile. My bottom lip starts quivering at his words.
"What?"
"It's obvious that you're happy with him. And you're not safe here. Not with Drew living next door." He spits out Drew's name like poison.
My breath hitches. Is he joking?
"Why are you being so nice?" I croak.
"Harry, we may have our differences but you are my son," father sighs, sitting back down on the edge of the bed. "I care about you."
And now, the tears have turned from sad, confused tears to happy ones. My mind is going in a million different directions.
"What about school?" I ask questionably.
He shrugs. "There are other schools in London," he points out.
I nod in agreement. "But— but what about mum?"
"Trust me, when she finds out what Drew did, she's going to want you to live in London as well," he says with a soft, reassuring smile. And, wow, I really missed this. I missed talking to my father without any yelling or screaming. I missed him genuinely caring about me and my feelings.
"Are you sure?" I squeak.
He bites his lip and runs his fingers through his thinning grey-ish hair. "Yeah, I'm sure. But I want you to maintain good grades and visit us when you can, and, of course, your mother still has to agree to all of this," he says, grumbling at the end.
"I agree," a soft voice suddenly says. My father and I both turn our heads to the door and see my mum leaning against the wall, a soft grin on her face. Her cheeks are rosy red and she's fidgeting with her hands.
"Anne, were you eavesdropping?" my dad accuses.
Mum chuckles, "Maybe."
"So what do you think?" I ask eagerly, wanting to get to the point. "Can I move to London?"
She sighs and slowly nods, much to my relief. "I'm going to miss you . . . but I think it's for the best."
I smile widely. "Thank you!" I jump up from the bed and squeeze her in a tight hug. She kisses my cheek and laughs softly at my excitement.
"But we are filing a restraining order against Drew, understand?" she says with a stern look. I gulp.
"Yeah, okay," I breathe. "But wait," I say, a thought suddenly occurring to me. "What if Louis doesn't forgive me?"
My mum shrugs, "There's only one way to find out."
She's right. I reach into my pocket and pull out my mobile but mum grabs my wrist and stops me. She cocks an eyebrow.
"You're really going to discuss this with him over the phone?" my father puts in, just as surprised as she is.
I bite my lip. Yeah, good point.
My dad snatches my keys off of my nightstand and tosses them to me. I catch them in my hands and smile.
"Drive careful," my mum tells me. "Go talk to Louis and then come home tonight, and then we'll discuss whether or not you still want to move to London. Try to be home by midnight."
I swallow thickly. What if Louis hates me now?
"Louis loves you," my dad promises, reading my thoughts. It's nice knowing that he believes in me and supports me. Even though we fight and argue, he cares about me, deep down. I never thought we'd ever actually be civil towards one another.
"I hope so," I say, biting my lip.
I give my mum another hug before jogging down the stairs, heart pounding in time with each step. Then I walk outside to the garage and climb into my car. I snap in my seat belt and start driving towards London, preparing a little apology-speech in my head.
* * *
A few hours later, I'm pulling into the lot of Louis's apartment complex in London. About a month prior, I helped him pick it out and I somehow managed to remember the address. It kind of got engraved in my brain.
I put the car in park and turn it off. I sit here for a while, just staring up at the tall building, breathing heavily. I feel a sense of nervousness sweep over my body and I start picking at my nails (it's one of my many bad habits).
Swallowing my nerves, I climb out of the car and slowly ascend up the stairs to Louis's floor. It's Sunday, he doesn't work today, so I know that he's here. I stop in front of his door and stare at the shiny gold seven, which is his apartment number. I want to knock but I can't bring myself to do it.
Maybe I shouldn't be here. Maybe I should just turn around and go home and forget about all of this and become a lonely homeless man instead. Sounds logical, right?
Apparently my body disagrees with my mind, because somehow I find myself knocking, twice. And then my my palms become sweaty and my eyes start watering. I feel like my lungs are collapsing when I hear a little rustling inside and then the door swings open.
Louis looks surprised, to say the very least. The tips of his feathery brown hair are hovering slightly over the top of his black frames. He's clad in sweat pants and a lose white t-shirt. He had giant bags underneath his eyes and he looks like he might have a bit of a cold. And, wow, Louis is just the prettiest creature to ever exist on the face of this planet. He's so damn beautiful that words can't describe his perfection.
"Harry," he croaks finally. There's a hint of shock evident voice.
"Hi," I breathe.
He stares at me for a second, and it looks like he's trying to figure out if I'm real or not. He blinks at me a few times, his mouth hanging slightly ajar, before he crushes me in a tight hug. I'm taken a bit off guard as he wraps his arms around my waist, squeezing me tightly. He rests his head on my shoulder and I hear him . . . crying?
"Boo, what's wrong?" I ask, breaking the embrace. I quirk an eyebrow at him when I see his eyes glistening, his bottom lip trembling. I cup his face in my hands and thumb away the single tear that has fallen from his ocean blue eyes.
"I just . . . I'm so happy you're here." He gives me a faint smile and it breaks my heart into a million tiny pieces.
I feel so guilty. So, so fucking guilty.
"I've missed you," he admits.
I can't take it any longer. I kiss him. I kiss him for all it's worth. And, yeah, it's so much better than when I kissed Drew. When I kissed Drew it was fueled with anger and rage, but with Louis it's filled with passion and longing and, most importantly, love. So much love that it pains me to think about what I did to him. I'm such an idiot and I don't know why he keeps forgiving me.
I take a step inside and he takes a step back, then I close the door behind me so we're not in the hallway anymore. Louis laughs faintly into the kiss and pushes me up against the door and snogs me until I can feel and see and sense nothing but Louis Louis Louis.
"I love." He pecks my lips. "You." He kisses the corner of my mouth. "So." He presses a kiss to my jawline. "Much." He nibbles on my neck softly and I moan subconsciously. I must be on fire, I assume, because my body is flushed with heat. I feel Louis's nimble fingers travel up my spine and I feel like I'm being engulfed in flames. There is no other way that I could possibly be this warm.
And then I remember why I'm here.
"Wait, Lou," I huff, staring down at him desperately. I can't do this.
"Wha'?" he asks cutely, smiling innocently.
"I need to . . . I need to tell you something," I say, trying my best to sound serious. Louis pauses and steps back. His throat bobs as he nods, and his facial expression seems concerned and worried.
He grabs my hand in his own, which is quite ridiculous because his hands are much, much smaller than mine. It's adorable, though, and I can't help it when my eyes are drawn to our interlocked hands, smiling at the way he has to curl my palm in order to fit it in his own. He lightly pulls me over to the couch where he sits and I plop down next to him, facing him with my legs crossed. He still holds onto my hand and looks up at me with a questionable gaze.
"What is it, Haz?"
I sigh. "I just . . . I don't even know where to start."
"Start from the beginning."
"Okay, yeah, good idea," I huff. I previously had a speech in my head but now I'm drawing a blank. I can't think of what to say.
"I kissed Drew," I blurt out. Wow, Styles, smooth.
Louis pauses, digesting the information. His grip on my hand immediately loosens. "Huh?"
"I kissed him, after we fought last night. It didn't mean anything. I was just so angry because I didn't want to lose you. I'm sorry— I mean, shit, I'm so sorry." My voice cracks and I have to fight back the urge to cry.
"I see," he hums, eyes glossed over with some expression I can't figure out.
"But there's more," I say shamefully.
"More?" he asks, dropping my hand from his completely.
I gulp and nod. "I just . . . I wanted to stop after the kiss but Drew kept going. He tried taking off my clothes and I tried pushing him away. I told him that I didn't want to but he didn't listen to me. And he slapped me and pushed me onto the bed and . . . then my dad walked in, but Drew and I didn't go any further, I swear, but--"
"That bastard," Louis seethes, much to my bittersweet surprise. His hands are now clenching in anger and his face is scrunched up.
"Huh?"
"Did Drew hurt you?" he demands, his teeth gritting at the very sound of his name.
I shake my head. "He slapped me and bit me, but I'm okay."
Louis sighs in relief and cups the side of my face and kisses my cheek. "Thank goodness you're okay," he says, breath tickling my neck. I thread my fingers through his hair.
"You're not mad?"
He pulls away and shrugs lightly. "I'm more hurt than mad, to be honest."
That makes me feel even more guilty, if that is at all possible. "I'm sorry—"
"I know you are," he interrupts, eyes twinkling. "And that's why I forgive you. You may be an idiot but you're my idiot." He chuckles softly and I grin. I feel so relieved, like a weight was lifted off of my shoulders.
"I love you," I promise.
"I love you, too." He pecks my lips. "And don't you ever think about kissing anyone else again. This is your last warning, Styles," he says firmly.
I shake my head. "I won't."
He smiles before sitting down in my lap, so his head is tucked protectively under my chin. I wrap my arms around him and kiss the top of his hair and leave my lips there for longer than needed. I inhale his scent for the first time in a while and, yeah, he really does feel like home, as cliche as that sounds.
"I wish you didn't have to go back to Doncaster," he hums, biting a hangnail on his thumb.
A sense of realization sweeps over my body. "Oh, right. My parents said I could live here," I say in a fake, casual voice, even though I'm really squealing in excitement inside.
Louis freezes up, letting my words filter through his mind properly. After a few seconds, his breath hitches and he turns around in my lap so he's straddling me, chest to chest. His eyes widen to the size of saucers.
"They what?"
"They said I could live here. They don't want me living near Drew and neither do I. So I can live here, permanently. That is, if you're okay with it--"
He cuts me off by shoving his lips onto mine. I smirk into the kiss as he snakes his arms around my neck and brings my head in closer. He feels so warm and soft and I never want to let him go, but I still need an answer.
I break the kiss but keep out lips mere centimeters apart, so I can feel his breath hitting my face. "I'll take that as a yes, then?" I say, smirking.
He smiles widely, "Yes, yes, a million times yes!"
* * *
Later that night, I arrive back home in Doncaster, with Louis sitting next to me in the car, holding my hand tightly. He wanted to come back home with me to discuss the living arrangements, rent cost, and educational decisions with my parents.
Still holding Louis's hand, I walk inside the house and toe off my shoes, and Louis does the same. He gives my palm a reassuring squeeze as we walk into the living room, where we hear my parents talking. I step in first and they look up at me and smile, and then they see Louis standing next to me, and they smile even brighter. My Dad sets down the newspaper that he was holding and my mum turns down the volume on the telly.
"So all's good?" my mum asks, eyes flickering between Louis and I.
I nod. "We're fine. He forgives me, even though I was a total moron."
"My moron," Louis grins before pecking my cheek softly. I chuckle and wipe away the spit and fake a grimace. We sit down on the empty leather couch, snuggling into the comforting cushions. It feels nice to sit down and relax after four grueling hours of driving in traffic.
My father is the first to speak up. "Do you still want to live with Louis in London? Because, honestly, I think it'd be a good idea. I don't feel safe with you living here when that boy is living next door."
Louis shoots me a questionable look, as if to ask, are you sure about this?
I nod, "Yeah, I want to live there."
"Okay then, " mum says, a smile appearing on her lips. "Your father and I both support your decision. We'll have to find a decent school near Louis's apartment, though."
"Oh, there's one about twenty minutes away from the theater where I'm working," Louis puts in. "It's got a really nice athletics program so Harry can play football there. Plus, they have a nice drama department as well." He flashes me a cheeky grin and I roll my eyes. I know he wants me to continue singing and acting but it's not really my forte. But then again, who knows? I still have a while to figure out my path.
"That sounds wonderful. We'll get you enrolled there as soon as possible, Harry." Mum glances over at my dad, who nods in agreement.
"You should probably start packing," dad points out. He gestures to the staircase.
"Yeah, good idea," I sigh, standing up from the couch. Louis gets up as well and intertwines our fingers, rubbing his thumb over the backside of my hand. He's really handsy today but I don't mind, because so am I. We haven't seen each other in weeks. We have every right to want to touch and feel each other as much as possible.
Louis and I turn towards the foyer and start trotting up the stairs.
"Oh, and Louis?" my dad says, and we both turn our attention back to him. He smiles lightly. "I want you to take good care of my son."
Louis chuckles and looks up at me lovingly, eyes shining in delight. "Don't worry, Mr. Styles," he grins. "I will."
* * *
They say when you love someone— like, really love someone— then you see no flaws in them. Every fuck up, every stupid slip of the mouth, every fight is so easily forgiven because you can't imagine your life without them. Even if they are a bloody idiot, you love that bloody idiot with all your heart and soul, with all their imperfections and misguided mistakes. It's not going to be easy, but it'll be worth it, because love is tough. It's difficult and blinds your judgment and sometimes it gets really hard, to the point where it almost breaks, or shatters completely beyond repair.
I know that there will be plenty more fights in Louis and I's future. There will be more tears, more obstacles to get over, but we'll make it through it all. I'll probably make some mistakes and so will Louis. I'll most likely say something that I shouldn't and he'll probably get upset, and then I'll say that I'm sorry. It's normal for couples to go through all that bullshit . . . but the true test of love is whether or not you can get past it all, even stronger than before.
And I guess that's what it was like with Louis and I. We fought hard and we loved hard. We made it through all the pain, all the suffering, all the fights and the barriers. And that proves something, doesn't it?
It proves that we're worth it.