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"What do you even see in that guy, Harold?" Louis takes a drag from his cigarette .
"He ain't even anything special," he tries not to let the stinking jealousy seep into his words but based off of Harry's knowing look he wasn't doing a great job of that.
"I like him," he finally answers "He brings me stuff," Louis scoffs. He could do that, if he really wanted to. If he stopped wasting his money on cigarettes but instead saved enough working as the cashier at that shitty convenience store downtown. He could imagine it, draping Harry's curls with jewels, his pretty pink lips twisting into a splendid smile.
He shook his head those weren't thoughts a boy like him was supposed to have. Harry was the sun, the moon, Harry was everything. He wasn't made for someone like Louis.
"Anyone can do that. A girl could do that," he ignores Harry's flinch at 'girl' because that's what Harry should have. A boy and a girl. That's what Harry should be.
"He isn't afraid to kiss me," Harry finally says, it was something that had been floating around in Louis's mind too. He just didn't expect Harry to admit it. Louis stubs his cigarette and adjusts his position on the beam peering down at Harry.
He was staring adamantly at Louis as if he was proving something important. Something that mattered. And maybe it did. "Run that lap again," he said coldly.
Gripping his gun with his left hand he shot it a couple times in the air, warning shots just because he knew Harry hated it. Harry scowled but moved diligently to the back of the course. Through his mind's eye Louis saw it Harry and that- that fucker kissing, their bodies writhing against each other like eels. His Harry. No-not his Harry. But... maybe he could be.
He shot the gun again, absentmindedly. He was going to kill that fucker and maybe for once he could actually kiss Harry. Kiss Harry again on his pretty pink mouth. He would like that. As long as his father didn't find out, it would be fine.
"I'm not doing anything, stop shooting it," Harry panted from where he was lying against the floor. Louis smirked casually and clicked the gun. "Wanna come with me to Zayn's house tonight?" "Zayn?" Harry wrinkled his nose, "He doesn't like me." He said it so innocently, it was sickening but it didn't stop Louis from smiling a little.
Zayn didn't hate him, not really. He just didn't like the way Louis acted around him. "He doesn't so bring Niall. He likes Niall." "I can never tell when you're joking, but I can't Quinn and I are going on a date tonight." Harry collapses on a chair. Just like that the smile slips off his face like water.
"Ditch him."
"Why?" Harry asks. He was sweet, this boy but he knew what he was doing when he said that. His eyes revealed everything, he was a terrible liar. "Fine, don't." Louis begins playing with his buckle, latching and unlatching it, determined not to meet Harry's eyes.
"This time I'm joking, don't worry I'll come."
"Don't do it if you don't want to."
"I want to."
"Fine."
"Fine."
"Run it again." Gun shots.
---
Louis had met Harry when he was about thirteen, even at ten Harry was blindingly beautiful in a way that no artist, not even Zayn, could ever dream to create, with his plump pink lips and dazzling green eyes. Louis should have known that he was fucking screwed the first time that Harry had broken into a full blown smile, revealing a deep dimple and Louis had gone completely cross-eyed. So fascinated by this gorgeous boy. He had wanted to jump on top of him, hug him in the way he had seen lovers on his TV screen do. But instead he had pushed him into the ground, his hands shaking, and quickly ran far away.
Yet thirteen year old Louis was still quite stupid, stupid enough not to realise why kept he hanging around the Styles's abode. He thought it was for Gemma, his wonderful best friend who smelled like roses and had hair the colour of straw but it was Harry that had caught his attention, even if he was a little bitch sometimes. God, it was sickening how sappy he was.