“Is…is that me?” His deep voice spoke, causing Louis to stop mid-stroke.
Louis sighed. He had just been caught red handed and there was no denying who he was painting. Fuck.
“Yeah.” Louis whispered, his shoulder slouching with embarrassment.
“Wow.” He whispered, his slow footsteps getting closer, “You’re really good, Louis.”
“Thanks.” Louis mutter, still not able to turn to face the face he’d just been painting.
“Wow.” Harry breathed in his ear, his body leaning over Louis as he eyed his latest creation, “The detail is just- wow. But why me?”
Louis turned his head slightly to meet emerald eyes. They were so close that Louis’ could feel Harry’s breath on his lips.
Louis shrugged, “Why not?”
Harry smirked, before standing up and looking at the pictures of him on the walls. “So this is why you didn’t want me to come in here.” Harry stated more than asked.
Louis nodded.
“So your sketchbook-”
“Is worse.” Louis finished, looking at his lap. He was so embarrassed.
“Can I see it?” Harry asked, his eyes shinning.
“I don’t think that‘s-”
“Please Louis?” Harry interrupted.
Louis sighed before looking at the innocent face before him. “Okay.”
Harry followed Louis silently out the room and down the hall, into Louis’ bedroom. He’d never been in there, but as Louis’ scent enveloped his nostrils he knew he wanted to stay in here for as long as he could.
Louis walked over to his desk and picked up one of the many sketch books splayed across it’s wooden top and wordlessly passing it to Harry. The leather was cool against Harry’s fingertips as he examined it’s battered surface. He gripped the cover and turned it, revealing the first drawing. It was simple. Pretty. Just a drawing of a pair of eyes as bright as emeralds.
“Wow.” Harry breathed, his fingers running over the deep shade of green coloured into the paper.
The next page was like looking into a mirror. Louis had captured his face perfectly. The detail was impeccable. It was just a simple drawing of Harry smiling a cheeky grin, his eyes crinkling at the sides.
Louis watched him from the bed, nervous about what the curly haired boy thought.
Harry flipped the page once again and was faced with a yet another picture of him, but this was different. This wasn’t innocent…it was dirty. It was Harry…on his knees, his big, innocent eyes blown with lust as he looked up at Louis, his slender fingers resting on Louis‘ belt buckle. His curls were ruffled, lips red and swollen. It was beautiful.
“How do you-” Harry stopped.
“How do I what?” Louis asked quietly.
“How do you erm…draw something like this when it-” He cleared his throat, “when it hasn’t happened?”
“Which one is it?” Louis asked, leaning forward to get a better look.
Harry walked over to him, sitting down as he showed Louis the drawing.
“Oh-” Louis cleared his throat, blushing, “I just imagine it…”
“So, you imagine me on my knees, sucking you off?” Harry asked, still captivated by the drawing.
“Well yeah,” Louis said, “It sounds creepy when you put it like that though.”
“No.” Harry said, “It’s cute. I’m actually kind of flattered.”
Louis’ head snapped up to look at Harry, a shocked expression on his face, “Really!?” He exclaimed.
“Yeah, I mean…no one’s ever really,” Harry thought for a moment, “been that interested in me. Well, not guys at least.”
“What do you mean?”
“Louis, look at me, I’m not that special. There’s nothing great about me, I’m just a loser.” Harry sighed, looking at his hands in his lap.
“Well I think you’re beautiful.” Louis spoke shyly, his face flushing pink.
Harry gave a shy smile, his face turning crimson. “Thanks.” He muttered.
“And you’re not a loser.”
“You don’t know me.” Harry commented.
“Fine then,” Louis said, “tell me why you’re a loser.”
“Because I’m a coward.”
“Why are you a coward?”
“Because I ditched my best friends for being gay and joined some stupid gang at school that do nothing but torment them for the same reason.”
“Wait I’m confused,” Louis started, his eyebrows drawn together, “Do you or don’t you have a problem with gays?”
“Yes- wait no, shit, no- fuck, I am gay!” Harry exclaimed, falling back against the soft mattress, his hands pressing against his eyelids. “Why do you think I kissed you back?”
“I don’t really know? I-I haven’t really thought about that.”
“Because I like you Louis.” Harry admitted, looking up at the blue eyed boy. “Like a lot.”
Louis smiled, “I like you too, but we-.”
“I know,” Harry sighed, “We can’t be together.” He repeated Louis’ words from earlier.
Louis sighed, collapsing beside Harry, “I still like you though.”
Harry smiled, “Me too.”
There was silence for a while, both thinking about everything that had been said.
Suddenly Louis broke it, “Maybe we could just…keep it a secret?”
Harry grinned, “I was hoping you’d say that.”
And suddenly the sketch book was chucked aside and Harry was on top of Louis, kissing him roughly. Louis made a keening noise in the back of his throat as he thrust his tongue into Harry’s mouth. Harry moaned as Louis’ hands slipped up his shirt and roamed his back. Flipping Harry over, Louis took control of being on top and started to nip at Harry’s collarbones, pulling sweet whines from Harry’s throat. He smiled at a particularly loud groan as he sucked a bruise into Harry’s neck and moved his hands to grip the hem of Harry’s shirt, lifting it up.
“No Louis-” He mumbled, pushing his hand away.
Louis tried once more but Harry gave the same reaction.
“Why?” Louis asked, looking into blown eyes.
“Scars.” Harry whispered, avoiding Louis’ eyes.
Louis froze before pulling away from the younger boy and sitting on his thighs. He looked down at the hem of Harry’s shirt and then his emerald eyes.
“Can I…”
Harry shook his head.
“Please?”
Harry sighed, before nodding slowly.
Louis watched Harry for a few more seconds before he gently peeled the curly haired boy’s shirt from his torso. He only had to push it up an inch to see the first glimpse of pink scars. Louis frowned as he pushed the shirt up further, right up to Harry’s neck.
Louis looked up to see Harry’s eyes wet with tears.
“Don’t cry.” He whispered.
Harry sniffled, “Ugly aren’t they?”
Louis shook his head no, “They’re beautiful. You’re beautiful.” And with that, Louis started to press tender kisses against Harry’s skin. He kissed every cut, every scar with so much care and affection that it made Harry’s stomach flutter. He really really like Louis.
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Thoughts? - Txx