Bloodsport

chapter 17

He hated this. He despised this feeling that kept pelting onto him, without reprieve. Most weeks he felt more anxiety than happiness, and it was deteriorating him from the inside. The only time he felt okay lately was when he was with Louis Tomlinson. When he was lost in that freaking idiot’s touches. When there was nothing in his body and mind but pleasure and warmth. It was ghastly to admit it, but the only place he wanted to go was to his house, to his cluttery room, and soft bed. He just wanted to feel okay.

His footsteps led him there. As he approached, he spotted the car in the small driveway, and he could see lights on inside the house. He didn’t know if Louis would slam the door in his face, but all of him simply wanted to go in and hide, hopefully with Louis against him.

He raised his hand and knocked twice. It only took a few moments before the door swung open in front of him, and there he was. Louis Fucking Tomlinson, holding the door open to Harry’s only place of refuge. He was wearing training sweats and a t-shirt (because when did he not?), and his hair was soft and unstyled. He looked surprised, of course. Harry didn’t usually walk up and knock on his door. And the last time they’d talked, Harry had pounced on him.

Harry almost turned and left. Why was he here? Louis would probably yell at him, and tell him to go. But then, where would he go? He had to at least ask.

He swallowed. “Hi.”

His eyes roamed over Harry, hesitantly. “Hey?” His voice wasn’t hard, and he looked slightly caught off guard. He didn’t look like he was about to yell. “What… er, what are you doing here?”

Harry swallowed again, rubbing his hand over his face to hide any traces of tears still on his face. “Can I stay here for a while?”

“What?” Louis looked even more confused. He looked incredulous, actually, like he had no clue what was going on. Harry didn’t, either, to be fair.

But he had nowhere else to go, and no other place he’d rather be. So, he hoped with all of his heart that Louis would find it in him to just… let him in. If only Harry could convince him, just this time.

“I know,” he tried. “I know it’s weird and awkward, and I… I really wouldn’t do this if I had any other option, trust me, but…” He breathed raggedly, knowing he was begging Louis Tomlinson to take pity on him. It was repulsive, but at the same time, he was too desperate to let pride stand in the way. “I need somewhere to stay. Only for a couple of hours.”

Louis remained silent as he appraised him. He stared at Harry like he couldn’t believe that he was asking this of him. Harry couldn’t, either, but he wished Louis wasn’t so set in his ways. That he could make just one exception.

Louis’ hand was still on the door handle, his body blocking the threshold.

Harry inhaled, begging for something to give him strength. “Louis,” he whispered, staring at his undecided face. “Please.”

It took a while before he said anything. Harry could see cogwheels turning in his head, but when Louis did speak, it was everything that Harry wanted to hear.

“Get in.” He moved aside, and all Harry could do was fall in, like it was heaven waiting behind the gates.

It was different being there during the day. The lights were on, and Louis didn’t try to be quiet as he moved about the house. He didn’t jump over the creaky step on the stairs on the way up, and he didn’t tiptoe outside his bedroom. The blinds didn’t cover the window, and the room looked bigger. Of course, Harry had been there during the day once or twice before, but it had been very brief and he’d hardly looked around. It was a while since, though, and that was before he’d grown to like the feeling of Louis’ pillows in the night.