Bloodsport

chapter 36

He woke up sometime in the night. The room was quiet except for Louis’ slow breathing. Harry opened his eyes, finding Louis on his back, head on the mattress. His chest was bare, the duvet down at his waist. His chest was full of glitter, but it was smeared, uneven, and flaking off. His ribcage rose and fell. His hair was displayed across the sheets. Louis didn’t move as Harry rose onto his elbows, leaning back slightly as he watched him sleep. He seemed dead to the world, unaware and at ease. Harry felt like it was the only time he didn’t feel a tumultuous discord inside himself; when he was sleeping and oblivious of the real world. The real world seemed to be in a loop of emotional chaos.
Right there, in the room, there was no chaos. Despite the messy sheets, the untidy room, the lamp still on, and the grime of cum and mushed glitter, there was only peace. Louis breathed softly, his thin lips parted just a tad. Harry lifted his left hand, and let it lightly settle on Louis’ chest, in the middle. This time, Louis’ heart was pounding evenly, steady. Harry swallowed.

The past twenty-four hours had drained him, and Louis, too, probably. So much had unravelled and none of it could be taken back. Harry always regretted his decisions, but he did not regret the intimacy the previous evening had instilled.

With it came acceptance. Louis breathed just as soundly, despite Harry’s palm resting flat across him. His heart beat as solidly.

What Gemma said made sense. The reason Louis’ words the morning before hurt so excruciatingly was because Harry cared for him. The ones closest to your heart could break it that much easier, and Louis was there, in Harry’s heart. It was the truth. He had fallen for him. When or where he didn’t know, but he had fallen. He had fallen fast, easy, and emotionally unprepared for it.

Harry lied back against the mattress. He removed his hand from Louis, and pushed the pillow in under his cheek. Louis’ eyelashes were long. His nose was straight, cheekbones high.

Harry inhaled, held it, and exhaled.

Okay.

Harry awoke later that morning to the sound of muffled voices. He blinked, confused as he pried his eyes open. It turned out Louis was awake. He was staring at the ceiling, his phone pressed to his ear. There was noise coming from it, but Harry couldn’t hear enough to know what was going on.
Louis looked… Harry wasn’t certain. The room was bright, the sun slipping in through the corners of the window, around the edges of the blinds. Louis was frowning. There was a downward tilt at the corner of his mouth. Harry didn’t like to see him frown. He lifted his finger and touched his cheek.

“Angry. Hedgehog,” he said, voice hoarse with sleep.

Louis scoffed, frown becoming a glare as he rolled over and gave his back to Harry. He felt suddenly far away. Harry scooted closer and wrapped his left arm around his body.

“Seriously.” Louis’ voice was unexpectedly hard. “Harry.”

He felt warmth drain from his body. “Wow,” he said, feeling his face form into a burned frown. “Pissed of much?”

He never knew what Louis was thinking, but he didn’t foresee that Louis was going to be rude and bad-tempered this morning, especially after how… Harry looked away from Louis’ shoulder. Especially after how perfectly lovely he’d been the night before.

“Fuck off.” Louis pushed Harry’s hand off him and move away.

Harry swallowed, forcing himself not to get upset. Louis’ sharp words were back again. Harry couldn’t go back to that state of pain again. He couldn’t. It would be too much for him to handle so soon. Instinctively, he decided to not allow himself to be tossed aside. Not after last night. Louis couldn’t choose when he wanted Harry and when he didn’t. He scooted closer again, and placed his hand back across Louis’ stomach.