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Summary
Louis finally looked up, staring at the same boy from the laundry room, his hair dry and soft looking, a short quiff at the top of his head. “Hey, uh, Liam, right?”
The tall alpha nodded. “Not a problem, Louis?” The omega nodded. “Is your wrist okay?” Before Louis could answer, he felt a rush of calm wash over him, as though he took a shot of whiskey. He watched as Liam closed his eyes and smiled.
Louis cleared his throat, having forgotten for a second that he had even fallen. “I think so. I didn’t put all of my weight on it, at least I don’t think I did. I’m sure Harry will insist on wrapping it when we get upstairs either way.”
“Good, that’s good.” They stood there awkwardly, Liam’s hands still holding Louis’s arm, both just staring, neither saying anything.