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Hide & Seek (Larry Stylinson AU)

Chapter 24

I am not like other people. I am burning in Hell. The Hell of myself.

*NARRATOR'S POV*


Louis took the act of non hand-holding to be a silent staking of his claim by Harry on him. He
was charmed, but also irrationally offended that Harry needed a reason to be sweet.

Harry, on the other side of the penny, had taken no notice at all of his Lou's reaction to what he'd done. He just thought that there'd be no point in walking the couple meters to the table with their hands locked, in the end they'd have to let go anyway.

"Which table?" Harry gives the choice to Louis.

"Um. The booth over there." Louis makes a quick motion to point at the booth before the last,
pressed up against the glass pane.

They sit down and find menus already on their table, along with a sticky and unavoidable table surface. Harry refrains from touching it at all while Louis seems to be undeterred by it.

"What do you want?" Harry asks, eyes glued to the laminated folder.

"I'm actually not that hungry."

Harry scowls at Louis from across the table. "You have to eat."

"I will. I just don't want to eat a lot right now."

"Why not?"

"I feel a little sick actually."

And the look on Harry's face transforms to one of concern. "What hurts?"

"Stomach and I feel a bitchy headache coming on."

"Do you want to leave? We can just go home and I'll make you tea."

"No, I'm fine. I feel bad now that the waiter's staring at us from behind the counter. Don't look."

But of course Harry looks and that only means to their server that they're ready to order. Louis chuckles and leaves Harry to order a basket of chicken strips and chips with two milkshakes.

"Do you want me to get you a tablet or-"

"Harry, I'm not dying." Louis laughs but enjoys the feel of the cold glass window on his temple.
The milkshakes come first and Louis plays with the straw while Harry attempts to drink.

"Need help?" Louis raises his eyebrow.

"No. It's just um......really thick." Harry frowns.

"Diner food, babe. Some of the worst around."

At that Harry's frown deepens and his heart drops. "I'm going to have cholesterol problems."

"You're such a hippie." Louis mocks. "One round of greasy fat won't kill you."

Louis sneaks out his phone before taking a photo of Harry's puzzled expression with his milkshake.

"What are you doing?" Harry rests his head in his hand.

"Looking into scrapbooking. You know, for retirement."

Louis' phone buzzes, receiving a curse from the owner before it is formally opened like a pack of garlic chocolate - yes, it exists and yes, now we know why vampires hate that stuff.

"Hello?"

"Hey. Louis?" It can be none other than Seth calling Louis during his break.

"Yeah man."

"I just remembered that Sunday hours are short so you don't have to get back here after your break."

"You sure?"

"Yup. We close at one so there's no point."

"Alright. See you tomorrow."

"Laters." Seth hangs up as Louis do before tucking the phone back in his jacket pocket.

"Who was that?" Harry asks, innocently if Louis didn't know him better, with his lips attached to what he call barber straws - they had red and white stripes.

"Seth. He says I'm free for the rest of the day."

"I suspected as much. It's close to slave labour to work full shifts on Sundays."
Louis laughs, returning to his cold fries. "Amen to that. I'm pretty stoned out though."

"What?" Harry's eyes widen, his eyelids flapping in shock.

"I'm tired, Harold. I meant that I'm just tired." Louis keeps a strip of potato in his mouth to keep from another wave of laughter.

"Oh." Harry's eyes furrow in meeting each other. "Why?"

"I didn't get any sleep last night. At least not as much as I wanted to."

Despite their ages of over twenty - possessing the ability to get actually stoned at any club - their fifteen year old boy urges to turn bright red could not suppressed. Harry doesn't bother to cover it up, he has no traces of embarrassment in his memory.

"Sorry." Harry mumbles.

Louis rolls his eyes, not missing Harry's glare directed at him from across the table. "Wasn't your fault. I had a nightmare."

Harry clears his throat, coughing into his fist. He struggles, racking every corner of his brain for a subject change. "Your breakfast was a nightmare."

Louis gapes and the chip slips from his fingers. "We agreed never to speak of that again."

"I did not." Harry chuckles.

"And I'm ace at cooking, was just tired."

"Sure." Harry raises an eyebrow.

"Challenging me, Styles?"

"No. I'd just love to see you cook something that didn't resemble the trash that even a dump site throws out."

Louis scoffs. "That is a challenge. Come on then." Louis rises to his feet, filled with proud motivation that amuses Harry.

They split the bill and pay before leaving, Harry insisting they leave a tip for the waitress. Louis only caves because he had all the sass and fight knocked out of him.

*LOUIS' POV*


I feel like I've been skinny dipping in a wetland; my back feels worn out just like my ankles and I have no concrete conclusion to the cause. I strip off my coat and disappear into the bedroom for a quick change of clothing. From a tired workaholic - or something like that - I transform into the epitome of teenage laziness in navy slacks and a printed T-shirt.

When I return to the threshold of awkward encounters with Harry, I find him nowhere. "Harry?"

"Up here." Harry makes it his duty to stamp his feet on the attic floor so that I am alerted of his position.

"I'm not cooking so how about pizza and cold beers?"

I hear his heavy footsteps descend the attic stairwell before appearing on the other side of said doorway. "I don't drink."

"I don't believe you."

"You should." He smirks.

"Don't tell me what to do." I cross my arms and lean stubbornly against the pillar.

"Fine. You caught me. I did drink but I don't anymore."

"Why not?"

"Because it smells and it makes me smell." He shrugs like it's the only possibly logical explanation.

"Interesting." I exaggerate the last syllable. "Say, don't you think I should at least have one key to the attic?"

His smile slips from his lips, falling to the floor and below down to the deli. "Um...if you want it- I mean I just spend s-so much time-" He flinches, clearing his throat like he swallowed sandpaper. "-up there. I didn't think you'd want-"

"Relax, Harold." I chuckle but keep my face serious. "You can keep the key just don't go setting up satellites and chatting with Martians while I'm down here, yeah?"

"Yeah." He smiles at last. "I promise. I'll just be...."

"Yeah, yeah. Go." I motion for him that it's okay to return to whatever ordeal captured his attention prior to my interruption.

He nods before leaving me to my own pitiful and lonely devices. I sigh and pick up my phone to dial the nearest pizza parlour when I think about awaiting a pizza guy, an individual whose arrival can anticipated within thirty minutes to two and a half hours. I wasn't going to take that risk with my stomach growling the way it is.

Occupational hazard is what I am in the kitchen, really. But nobody's here to criticise my ministrations as I carry them out. I hunt in the fridge for anything suitable and come up with chicken, cheese, parma ham - close enough - and potatoes with a few friendly vegetables.
The oven is in good shape but I'd much rather stand over a stove while I munch away of cooking by-products. By-products include picking at the edges of a meal component but ensuring that the appearance is still substantially acceptable. I smile to myself while switching on a stove plate and removing three chicken fillets from a black polystyrene tray.

It's too quiet for me. I frown while hunting for my iPod, a device I haven't removed from the side pocket of my duffel bag since my arrival in Dynasville. I choose Chandelier by Sia - a great voice that woman has - and leave it to play on the counter while I get to work.
Creating deep enough slices in the white meat, I slot a reasonable amount of mozzarella cheese into the gashes. Oil is put into a clean pan and the chicken skins are removed. The song ends and my humming switches to a John Legend classic. I get strips of parma ham to wrap around the chicken goodness before basking in the sweet sizzle of hot oil meeting cold meat.

I pick two potatoes from the collection of fine vegetation, peeling and dicing away to The Fray before dropping the cubes into hot water on a stove plate. I liked the smell of cooking underway, made me tranquil though I was more than-

"What happened to the pizza?" A low voice, belonging only to a particular individual, halts my
thoughts as Harry creeps up behind me.

"Thought I'd prove to you that I could....cook." The pause in my speech in caused my Harry's act of encircling my waist in his sweater arms that smelt of dust. "How long were you staring at me?"

"A while." He mumbles against my neck and I go rigid with worry. Or stress? Or something?

"What are you cooking?"

"Chicken stuffed with mozzarella, wrapped in parma ham and mash."

"Smells perfect."

"Thanks."

He chuckles but there's a hint of something else there while I flip over the chicken so it doesn't burn.

"I meant you." He seems to want to become a part of me right there, his hands on my opposite sides so that I had on a belt of his biceps. His curls tickled and irritated my neck.

*NARRATOR'S POV*


Had Louis been able to turn around even an inch, he would seen why Harry was acting so strange. He could and would have stopped Harry from kissing, nibbling and biting his neck in a way only Harry knew how. It made Louis forget about the food but responsibly remember when Harry wouldn't let their lips meet.

He uses great willpower to toy with the handle of the pan instead of drop his pants right there.
He was wise, if only for that moment. Harry's eyes weren't his own. They were black like the night and as empty as an abandoned chest. He had fought a battle upstairs before it overpowered him and now here he was, seeking to taint what he could. The humming boy in the kitchen seemed like a good start.

Harry's had a special admiration for Louis' petite frame, made him look small against Harry.
Made Harry want to protect him. Now, however, with a mind that was possessed by someone less kind with the hunger for strength, he just wanted to ruin Louis. And so he did.
Louis didn't protest despite his genuine human hunger, when Harry switched off the plates so nothing would burn before grabbing his wrist and hauling the smaller boy out of the kitchen. He positively does not scream when Harry takes him on his hands and knees. He quivers and moans and let's whatever neighbours they have, know what Harry's doing with his curses and cries. He does not groan from the friction against his sensitive dick when Harry collapses on top of his back, pressing them both into the mattress in the living room.
Louis doesn't complain that Harry didn't let him to turn around, and when a foul smells fills the room he says nothing. The shadow draws out of Harry, and hides in the dark of the night so nobody sees it.

"Lou?" Harry croaks.

"Hmm?" Louis fingers a thread on his pillow.

Harry only comes to and realises what he's done when Louis starts wriggling about beneath him. He panics and feels the need to apologise profusely in any way he can for letting something come over him and hurt his Louis. Something, he notes bitterly.

"D-Did I hurt you? I'm so sorry, Lou. I don't know why I did that-"

"So you didn't enjoy having sex with me?" Louis sasses half-heartedly because his behind was unreasonably sore. A good sore that reminded him of steamy activities.

"I did. You were amazing." Though Harry couldn't promise that because he wasn't with Louis during it. "I just wanted to make sure-"

"I'm fine, Harold." Louis smiles when Harry rolls them over and let's Louis sit astride him.

"You'd tell me....if I was ever too much for you. Like a nuisance." Harry carefully runs his hands up and down Louis' sides.

"You aren't a bother, Haz. I'd be going grey if I was alone in this place."

"What did you call me?"

"Oh. Haz. Sorry I don't really think Harold is an improvement over Harry."

"It's fine. Call me whatever you want." Harry pulls Louis down for their first kiss in eight hours.
"You taste like cheese."

"Was cooking as I remember, before a certain fellow diverted my attention."

Harry frowns and quickly recovers with a weak upward thrust that causes Louis' mewl. "Don't you like when I distract you?"

"I fucking love it." Louis actually turns pink for Harry. "But the food's probably cold now."

"Doesn't matter." Harry sits up and bumps noses with Louis accidentally.

Louis goes stock-still when Harry's abnormally pale fingertips trace his cheekbones like Louis is an exhibit that is under lock and key, but Harry's desire to touch all of him was too great.
Harry's orbs of deep green, pupils blown and slowly returning to their regular form, follows his own fingers on Louis' skin. Harry is completely fascinated by the smaller boy sitting on him, whose hands are on his waist and not protesting. That, Harry does not understand. Why would Lou let Harry touch him? He was a monster.

Harry didn't know that Louis shared an equal fascination with Harry, the taller man has totally enamoured with him. Harry's eyes search Louis' everytime he moved so as to make sure that he wasn't hating Harry's touch. Louis would nod or smile, signalling him to go on. Harry's fingers touch every available part of Louis. His temples, his lips that looked like the finest pair Harry's ever seen, his nose that Harry chuckled at when Louis scrunched it up, his collar and neck that Harry could not resist so he planted a soft kiss to both spots, his cheekbones and his stubble that Harry's fallen in love with. That's the problem, isn't it? Loving Louis. Louis was his,
Harry was aware of that. Harry knew that it was a great dilemma and should not be
disregarded. Louis didn't know a lot about him and the same could be said about Harry knowing about Louis, but Harry felt something more than plain want.

He needed Louis. His Louis. He wanted Louis around all the time and he was simply terrified that Louis was disgusted by and just afraid of him.

He sighs but kisses his Louis one more time to silently convey the mash of thoughts in his head. If Louis understood, he said nothing.
Something's changed in Harry since all those weeks ago when he first met Louis outside Lost Lake. He may not have been more than another frustrating neighbour at the time but it was like fishing for Harry. He wanted this one, all to himself. It was about keeping Louis safe, maybe even forcing harsh words to leave Harry's mouth but it was all about Louis.
Harry's pupils dilate with reason, his gaze turning curious when he tackles Louis to the mattress and pins him down. He starts kissing down Louis' small body, finding a certain perfection in every one of his features.

Harry's hands were so huge that it easily wrapped over Louis' closed fist - they were both sure there was a metaphor in there somewhere. Where Harry's torso was firm and muscular, Louis was pudgey and utterly harmless. Harry's arms were constricting and possessive, Louis' were smaller but ideal for hugging Harry back. Louis' ankles and wrists were small, fragile joints that Harry practically drooled over. Louis looked like a God with Harry's love bites scattered all over his body. Harry didn't want to start with what it felt like to be inside Louis, warm and nervous but so fucking much like it was meant to be.

Harry's lips find Louis' and bites down on his bottom lip, tasting all that he can get from the tired boy under him. Louis' fingers tug on Harry's hair earning a moan from both of them. Teeth clashed and tongues danced but it didn't waver their thoughts from each other either when Harry bit Louis' tongue.

Harry thinks about his life, as does Louis. Where Harry's life had love before disaster struck,
Louis' life had love that he was ungrateful for all around. Harry thought words like hate and dark and shadow, but Louis thought work and family and love. When Harry sees Louis he thinks, innocence - though he is well aware that Louis is his own fair share of naughty. When Louis inevitably thinks about Harry, thoughts of pain and so, so much difficulty come as well. He wants it to stop for Harry because if given the chance, the younger man can do so much.
Louis doesn't see his world without his new companion. He's hiding him from the world and from being dragged back to an asylum. To anyone, that would say Harry is a fucked up individual who deserves years of continuous therapy and a padded cell. To Louis, that meant they will have to work so much harder at keeping things normal and quiet.

"I love you." No one knows who said it until they do.

Notes

[A/N: I see those wheels turning your heads. Please don't kill me :( If I get enough requests then I'll post the next chapter tomorrow :) I wanted to make certain you were clear on what Louis and Harry look like in this story. This is them :) Please look.
To @kissing- I have your Character Ask answer right here.


Q: Harry, have you ever thought about what you are to Louis; what your feelings are? I know you claim him as "yours" but, are you still just his friend or would you go as far to say he's your boyfriend, or do you find that title silly?


A: I have thought about how I feel about him, a lot. When I say he's mine, I mean my feelings for him can be defined as more than what is attached to "boyfriend" or "friend". The title isn't silly, though it doesn't at all compensate or match up to how I feel about Louis. - H


Now! Opinions? Hehe.......AND I come with good news. This story shall be updated every Friday from now on. My ultimate goal for this story is a total of a thousand votes, that would be HUGE for me. I would be nowhere, sitting with nothing to smile about if I didn't have you guys. I love you all and don't forget it :) And when there aren't comments I feel like I didn't do well enough :( so please tell me what's going through your head with this story.]


Comments

@Suman98
Can you please MAKE another one I LOVE THIS STORY

Amazing. ...

That_Moment That_Moment
9/18/14

Amazing. ...

That_Moment That_Moment
9/18/14

Only on the prologue, but I love it so far.

@Suman98

Awe :) your welcome!
and...... oh my gosh yay!