Tease [Larry]

Four

"I'm throwing a party."

Harry clicks through the channels on the television, leisurely kicking up his feet. He'd given up on his shirt a long time ago, instead opting for his school shorts, and a pair of long socks. It's Friday, a few hours after school, and he should probably get on top of the piles of homework he's been assigned. But there's something oddly therapeutic about watching bad telly when it rains, and he's sucked straight into a rather timely episode of Adams Family.

Harry throws a handful of crisps into his giant gob. He can feel the crumbs rolling around on his chest, but doesn't seem to mind. "Whatever, Gemma."

"I'm serious, Harry."

Harry looks at his sister from over his shoulder. "You don't even have enough friends to throw a party," he snorts.

"Let me rephrase. I'm going to have a couple of people over. Plenty of laws will probably be broken, and plenty of cigarettes will be smoked. Not your scene. Which is why I called The Horan's." She lowers her face, looking very witchy with her long bridge for a nose. "They said they'd be honored to have you spend the night."

Harry forgets all about the crisps. "I have homework to do." He settles himself into a more comfortable position on the couch, twirling the remote between his fingers. "I'm not going to Niall's."

"Well you're not staying here." On cue, Aaron busts through the front door with an eight pack of beer and a slushing pair of soaking wet sneakers. Louis shortly follows, looking downright edible in his tight, white tee, slightly damp from the downpour.

He's got a cigarette tucked behind both ears, and a brown paper bag clutched tight around the neck of a bottle. As soon as he enters the room, he sweeps Harry's profile, grins, then saunters off to the kitchen without a word.

It physically pulls all of the fight from Harry. Now, he's got other things on his mind, more important things on his mind, such as how he's going to survive always basking in Louis' presence, always feeling so small when he's around, or how they're supposed to share the same air without him feeling like a criminal in his own home.

He takes one good look at Gemma and refuses to argue any further.

"What'd I miss?" Aaron falls back on the sofa, albeit carelessly. He ends up elbowing Harry in the ribs, to his utter distaste. "Why the long face?"

Harry flips off the television. He doesn't think he's going to be able to focus much, anyway. He shrugs his frail shoulders, nonchalance zinging through his body as if he's just ripped a bong. "I'm not asking to party with you guys. I just want to stay home."

Aaron nods. His celestial blue eyes slowly pan to Gemma. "Honestly, G. Harry's cool." Louis pads back into the living room, but avoids the couch like it's the plague. Instead, he opts for a very cool, very suave kickstand position behind Gemma, practically lurking in the shadows and leaving mud scuffs on Anne's pristine yellow living room walls. "He'll be chill."

Louis cracks a small laugh, short and curt and snooty. Harry instantly glares, but ends up getting lost in that same infuriating pair of baby blue orbs. They're always so shiny, like he's in on some huge impractical joke that's about to blow up in everybody's faces. It pisses Harry off to no extent. Because all he wants to do is eat shit food on his sofa in his house in his birthday suit without feeling like he's being ridiculed.

So, while the stalemate feels never ending, Harry surrenders, crossing his arms over his chest, hiding the long expanse of soft, pale skin. He suddenly feels really exposed, like Louis' eyes are boring into a lot more than just his own.