Chapter 1: Coming Home
Chapter Text
HARRY’S POV
Harry had been waiting on the couch for two hours, biting at his short nails nervously, and peaking out of the curtain every five minutes. His brother was coming home today and they hadn’t seen each other in person for an entire year. His brother, Marcel, was a year younger than him at 18 to Harry’s 19, and they’d always been stupidly close. Perhaps they were so close because Harry was so protective of his younger brother.
Harry had always been over-confident and he was known as a bit of a charmer, whereas Marcel had issues with anxiety and was always too afraid to ever stand up for himself. When they were younger and under the torment of their mother’s styling opinion of dressing them identically, they’d looked like twins, most people assuming that they were, but as they’d grown their different personalities had become so apparent that no matter their physical symmetry, no one ever mistook them for twins anymore. They were both tall but where Harry used weights to bulk himself out, Marcel had taken up swimming alone and become lean and lanky. They both had naturally curly hair but Marcel had his cut short and pulled back with gel into a neat almost side quiff. Harry had perfect vision but Marcel needed glasses and wore a pair that had overly large frames. Harry was tanned and covered in tattoos that their mum disapproved of, but Marcel was pale and ink free. Harry’s usual dress sense included black skinny jeans and various band t-shirts whereas Marcel likes chinos and pressed shirts. They were so completely different but being apart for an entire year had nearly killed both of them, especially since their mum and dad had imposed a phone limit after they’d gone over their contract’s in the first 2 days of being apart.
At the sound of a car approaching Harry jumped up and ran to the door, pulling it open with a wide grin as his dad pulled up the driveway. Marcel was out of the car just as fast, opening his door before it even came to a full stop, and they ran at each other with identical dimpled smiles. They clung tight to each other and when they pulled back Harry ruffled Marcel’s hair with a laugh.
“Thank god you’re back, little brother,” Harry grinned, leading Marcel into the house without even acknowledging their dad. Harry and their dad didn’t see eye-to-eye, Marcel wasn’t exactly happy with the guy but he was a lot more forgiving than Harry.
“It’s been so long. Way too long,” Marcel laughed, slinging his arm around Harry’s shoulders as they headed to the kitchen. Their dad came in too, carrying Marcel’s two suitcases since he’d forgotten them in the excitement. Harry got out some glasses and orange juice, reluctantly pouring one for their dad only because Marcel gave him a meaningful look that threatened pain if he didn’t play nice.
“How’s the Uni then?” Marcel asked curiously and Harry grinned. They’d recently moved and Marcel had to apply to a new college for his final year, but Marcel had been moving to stay with dad for a year around the same time so he’d been enrolled at one closer to dad’s. The University that Harry attended and was about to go into his second year of, would be where Marcel was going to start attending for his first year. Harry was taking a Computer Design course and Marcel would be starting his English Literature course.
“It’s great! My mates’ll be coming over later so they’ll give you a better idea. Zayn’s an English Lit student too. Louis does Maths and Physics but don’t ask him about it because he gets all grouchy when people think he’s a nerd,” Harry said dryly, rolling his eyes. Marcel giggled in response.
“Does it really look like I could ever call someone a nerd?” Marcel asked self-deprecatingly and Harry mock-punched him in the shoulder.
“Stop being stupid, you’re not a nerd. You’re a geek,” Harry grinned and Marcel punched him back but harder.
“When’s your mother home?” Their dad finally asked, looking almost nervous to be in this house.
“Not until tonight,” Harry replied flatly and Marcel jabbed him in the stomach slyly in reproach.
“Well I’m gonna head out,” He replied and Harry didn’t bother to say good bye. Marcel gave him a quick hug and showed him out.
“You need to give him a break,” Marcel said carefully as he walked back into the kitchen.
“He’s a wanker, why should I?” Harry frowned.
“Cos he’s our dad,” Marcel replied, rolling his eyes as he rummaged through the fridge.
“You can be the nice son, I’m fine being the black sheep,” Harry smirked and Marcel threw a grape at his head. “Don’t eat loads of crap or mum’ll kick your arse. She’s planned a huge dinner thing ‘cause she wanted to welcome you back. I don’t know why, it’s been so much more fun around here without you being a buzz-kill,” Harry teased and Marcel stuck his tongue out at him before shoving a sausage-roll into his mouth.
“You missed me really,” Marcel said around a mouthful of pastry, a smug grin on his face. Harry looked back at him fondly, it was nice seeing Marcel so at ease with himself. When his anxiety gets bad it hurts Harry to see him so upset and stressed. Marcel had always been that kid who got bullied, and a lot of the time Harry could fix it. But not since they’d been separated for a year. Harry knew he was getting bullied badly, but they were so far apart and their mum wouldn’t let him go up there with the intention of beating the shit out of some annoying little pricks. Marcel had sounded sad and anxious more often than not when they’d talked on the phone, and Harry was glad that just coming home seems to have made him happier.
“Yeah, unfortunately I did. I didn’t have anyone to hug during the thunder storm a few days ago,” Harry said, crossing his arms and chuckling at himself. Harry had an irrational fear of thunder storms and usually ran over to Marcel’s room to sleep in his bed for the night, but he’d had to find new coping methods this past year. Harry blushed at the thought of those coping methods. That reminded him though. “Zayn and Louis will be here in like 10 minutes. Are you gonna be ok with company?” Harry asked, Marcel seemed ok but sometimes he wasn’t all that good at being around people.
“I’ll be fine, promise,” Marcel grinned reassuringly before wandering passed Harry and upstairs to his bedroom, taking his suitcases with him to unpack. Harry couldn’t help but grin to himself. His little brother was finally home.
Chapter 2: Blue Eyes and Metallic Lips
Summary:
Marcel doesn't understand what's going on with Harry and Zayn, there's tension there, but he's a little too distracted by a stunning pair of blue eyes to pay very much attention . . .
Notes:
So a bunch of you guys left lovely comments about chapter 1 so I've tried to update as quickly as possible, it's a little slow to start at the moment because i have to set it up a little before anything can happen, but hopefully it'll be a bit more interesting in the next chapter.
I really love you guys, your comments really make my day better and keep me writing so i really hope you like where i take this fic <3
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
HARRY’S POV
When Louis and Zayn knocked on the door, Harry let them in with a wide grin. They both gave him quick hugs before heading straight to the kitchen; they were both as familiar with his house as him. When they’d both gotten a drink and settled onto the couch Harry figured it’d be a good idea to warn them a little.
“Marcel got here a few minutes ago,” he started, smiling wide.
“That’s great! You’ve been dying to see him for ages,” Zayn grinned and Harry smiled back, maybe locking gazes a few seconds too long.
“Can’t wait to meet your mini me, Styles,” Louis said with a smile, fingers playing with the ring at the corner of his lower lip.
“I should just warn you, he’s a little funny around people sometimes. Like, there’s nothing wrong with him, he just gets a little stressed,” Harry said carefully. He didn’t want them to treat Marcel any differently, but he also didn’t want them to push him if it was obvious he was getting uncomfortable.
“Anxiety?” Louis asked and there was something different in his voice. Harry was used to him being brash and aggressive, and he’d been the one Harry was most worried about in respect to Marcel; he was exactly the kind of personality to set his little brother off. But his voice had a gentle thread, a type of softness that Harry hadn’t heard before.
“Yeah. He just doesn’t like to be around people for too long, he says he’s okay with meeting you two though, so just . . . If he leaves randomly, just let him go, okay?” Harry asked, keeping his voice soft, having heard Marcel making his way downstairs.
“Hey,” came Marcel’s soft voice seconds later. Harry looked at how his younger brother stood awkwardly in the doorway and quickly walked over to pull him into the room by his arm, shooting him a reassuring smile.
MARCEL’S POV
Marcel could feel the nerves, the cloud of panic floating around him, waiting to suffocate him, as he was pulled by Harry into the room. Harry’s two friends were already chatting amongst themselves and he was grateful they weren’t staring and waiting for him to speak. One was possibly Pakistani, with a honey hue to his skin and a bunch of tattoos, his hair towered into a sleek quiff that Marcel had no idea how he’d gotten it to stay in. The other boy was eye-catching. Marcel found himself strangely intrigued. He had a pretty fringe, his hair in little peaks around his head, a halo of caramel brown. His eyes were a shocking blue that was made all the more striking by what Marcel figured was slight guy-liner usage. He was tattooed too; his arms covered and even one on his neck. He had a small ring through his bottom lip in the left corner that he’d fiddle with every few minutes. They were both in similar clothes to Harry, the blue-eyed boy was dressed in black skinny jeans rolled up at the ankles and a vest that gaped low on his sides to show that he had a tattooed chest and a few on his side.
Marcel had never really taken the time to figure out if he had a type or not, but he thinks this tattooed boy may be a big example. It was hard not to stare but Marcel was too afraid that the boy would catch him looking and beat him up for checking him out.
“Hey, I’m Zayn,” the guy with the quiff said to him, holding out a hand that Marcel shook with trembling fingers.
“Marcel,” he replied, his voice a little huskier with nerves. That was when the blue-eyed boy first looked at him, his eyes widening as he looked up and down Marcel’s seated form.
“Louis,” He finally said, his voice soft, interesting, not the voice he had expected when he saw this ink covered boy.
“Hi,” and his voice had dropped down to barely a breath, his gaze locked on Louis’ and his face prickling with heat.
After the introductions the other three boys lapsed into comfortable banter, Harry coaxing smiles from him as often as he could. He and Harry were sat on the floor across from the two boys on the couch when their mum came home.
“Honey, have you heard from your dad? Did he say when they were going to be here?” Anne said as she shuffled her various shopping bags, not looking up until after she’d finished speaking. Harry sat silently grinning next to him. When his mum looked up a grin jumped to her lips and she dropped the carrier bags as fast as she could and ran over to wrap her arms around his shoulders, shrieking and kissing his face over and over. “Why did no one ring me?!” she demanded between squeezing him half to death.
“He only came home a few minutes ago, and I think you’re killing him,” Harry replied casually and Marcel rolled his eyes at him.
“Hi mum,” He said with a small smile, hands holding her forearms where they squeezed around his chest, her cheek pressed to the top of his head. Marcel could feel his face heating, embarrassed in front of Harry’s friends. They probably thought he was a mummy’s boy now. Harry cleared his throat ad he felt his mum look at his older brother but he didn’t see what passed between the two, but seconds later his mother moved on to kiss and squeeze Harry and even Harry’s friends. The two tattooed lads took their kisses and cuddles with smiles that said they were used to this kind of this from Anne and Marcel was grateful. He shot a small smile at Harry and his brother slung an arm around his shoulder and pulled him into his side, kissing his temple before letting him go as their mother finally wandered off to put her shopping away. Marcel pushed his glasses back up his nose and smoothed his hair, grinning widely now. When he looked back at the other two boys, Louis was looking at him curiously and Marcel felt himself blush and his smile drop a little with nerves.
When Harry asked Zayn to come help him choose a DVD upstairs and Marcel was left alone with Louis, Marcel found himself suddenly way too interested in a bit of fluff on the carpet.
“What class are you gonna be taking when you come to Uni?” Louis asked him softly and when Marcel looked up from under his lashes Louis’ face was just as gentle. It took Marcel a few moments to calm himself so he could talk without his voice shaking, but Louis just waited patiently.
“English Literature,” Marcel finally answered, his voice quiet but Louis heard and smiled and damn if it didn’t stun Marcel. It was just a smile but it lit up Louis’ entire face, such an innocent smile for a devil of a face.
“Zayn takes that, I’m sure he could give you some good pointers. I have no idea about books and shit, can’t sit and read to save m’life,” Louis chuckled and Marcel couldn’t help but smile in response, Louis’ eyes immediately zeroed in on that smile. “You should smile more often,” Louis said and Marcel blushed helplessly.
“Y-you do Maths and Physics, right?” Marcel asked then froze. Harry had told him not to bring it up, he said Louis’d get pissed off. “I-I mean, that’s really cool, like, I think Physics is really interesting and-” Marcel’s nervous rambling was cut off by Louis’s soft chuckle.
“Calm down, I don’t mind you knowing I’m a big nerd, just don’t tell anyone else,” Louis joked and Marcel let himself relax a little. “Don’t be afraid to talk to me, Dimples, I won’t bite,” Louis grinned and Marcel felt a little flustered at the nickname so he just nodded in response.
When Zayn and Harry came back downstairs Harry looked flushed and annoyed and Zayn looked a little pissed off. Zayn sat next to Louis and a little frown line came between Louis’ brows but he didn’t say anything. Harry put in a DVD without a word and when he sat back on the floor next to Marcel, he slyly squeezed his older brother’s forearm in question. Harry turned and gave him a pained, forced smile and Marcel wordlessly offered comfort, leaning over to snuggle into his side, and he felt Harry relax a little as he brought his arms around Marcel to hug him back. They stayed like that for most of the movie, and it felt nice for Marcel to finally be the one offering comfort, instead of the other way around.
When the movie ended there was still an obvious tension between Harry and Zayn and so the goodbyes were a little awkward, but Marcel couldn’t focus on that when Louis walked through the door after giving Marcel a sly wink and squeezing his fingers with his. Marcel was still flushed and shaking a little when Harry closed the door with a sigh.
“We’re not talking about it, okay?” Harry said firmly.
“What’s going on between you and Zayn?” Marcel replied as if Harry hadn’t spoken.
“What’s going on with you and Louis?” Harry countered, raising an eyebrow challengingly.
“Nothing,” Marcel said shiftily.
“I saw that something was, so stop lying. You like him,” Harry guessed and Marcel’s shifty gaze was all the answer he needed. “You need to stay away from him. He’s one of my best friends but he’s a dick,” Harry said firmly and Marcel felt a frown settle onto his face.
“I can deal with it myself,” Marcel said angrily and Harry let out a sharp laugh.
“You don’t deal with anything, Marcel, that’s your problem,” Harry said snidely, and Marcel knew it was caused by what had happened with his friend and that he really didn’t mean it, but that didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt.
“Fuck you,” Marcel said clearly before storming upstairs to his room, leaving Harry stood stunned at the bottom of the stairs. Marcel wasn’t exactly big on swearing, but he didn’t need to hear that kind of stuff from his brother who was always supposed to be on his side.
After a few minutes of laying alone in bed, Marcel heard his door creak open and someone silently pad over to the bed and slide in next to him. He turned over to face Harry with a hurt expression.
“I’m sorry. You know I didn’t mean that, I’m just in a bad mood, and I’m sorry I took it out on you,” Harry said quietly, looking up at the ceiling. “I just need you not to ask about what happened, okay?” Harry finally looked at him then and Marcel nodded in acceptance.
“Okay,” He whispered back and Harry smiled in response, leaning over to kiss his forehead before leaving the room, shutting the door behind him. Marcel sighed to himself.
When he finally fell asleep it was with the thought of Louis’ sharp blue eyes painted across his mind.
Notes:
I'd really really appreciate comments, please please please haha, they're the only reason i keep writing on here sooo if you like it please tell me :) and again, i take prompts for other fics so if you have an idea for a fic that you'd like me to write then just comment with the word 'PROMPT' at the beginning and i'll see if i like the idea :)
Chapter 3: Thunder and Storm-clouds
Summary:
Marcel is trying to keep his first day of Uni uneventful when he's ambushed by those pretty blue eyes, but maybe that isn't such a bad thing?
Harry and Zayn are so tangled its hard for Harry to breathe sometimes.
Notes:
Sorry for the long wait between updates! I know, i know, i suck haha. I promise to try be a little faster, i just had to update and upload two other works so this one got a little neglected for a few days, hopefully the smutty-ness of this makes up for that ;)
And hopefully you guys who were wanting to know what the deal was with Harry, Zayn and thunderstorms will be appeased by this chapter haha.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
MARCEL’S POV
So his first day at Uni was . . . Uneventful. His lectures were interesting if not filled with information he already knew, and his seminars were filled with lively debate that his anxiety prohibited him from joining in with, but he mentally gave replies to the various topics. No one really talked to him other than one girl who asked to borrow his pen to sign the register as it was passed around the lecture hall.
When his seminar ended and he had an hour free, he decided to wander into town and get some lunch and hopefully not look completely pathetic all on his own. When he walked into the town centre he found himself a little lost in the winding streets but finally saw a pub that offered some simple, cheap, but nice food. He wandered in, pulling up the straps of his backpack and nearly tripping over the threshold but saving himself by grabbing onto the wall. He blushed and looked around but the place was pretty empty of customers. He looked straight ahead then and noticed that the bartender seemed to be holding back a grin. And that that bartender was Louis. Marcel blushed even worse and even moved as if to turn around and leave, hoping to avoid further humiliation, but Louis waved at him so Marcel reluctantly waved back and headed towards him.
“Hey! How’s your first day going, Dimples?” Louis asked with a crooked grin, eyes dancing with light.
“Good,” Marcel murmured, playing with a beer mat to keep his fingers busy.
“What can I get for you?” Louis asked with a reassuring smile and Marcel reluctantly smiled back, bringing up a hand to push his glasses back up his nose.
“Erm, just a lemonade . . . Are you still serving food?” Marcel asked, his voice careful but a little more confident.
“Sure, and yeah we are . . . here, take a look,” Louis said, passing him a menu and wandering off to get his drink. Marcel’s eyes flickered to Louis of their own volition and he found himself staring in awe at Louis’ bum. Now that is an arse, Marcel thought to himself. When Louis spun back around- after bending over and nearly causing Marcel to fall from his buffet at the sight- Marcel tried to drag his eyes away but from the knowing smirk on Louis’ lips he hadn’t looked away fast enough. What shocked Marcel was the fact that Louis didn’t look annoyed or creeped-out, he looked . . . Intrigued.
“I-I’ll just have fish and chips, please,” Marcel stammered, looking anywhere but at Louis.
“Sure, I’ll go tell the chef, I’ll be back in a minute,” Louis replied and Marcel could hear his smirk even if he wasn’t looking at him. When he walked away Marcel took a grateful gulp of the glass of lemonade Louis had placed before him, swiping a hand over his forehead . . . great, he was sweating nervously, attractive, that is. “It’ll be five minutes,” Louis smiled as he walked back to his spot behind the bar in front of Marcel.
“So you don’t have classes today?” Marcel asked almost desperately.
“Nah, not on Mondays or Fridays,” Louis grinned and he turned around to grab a pint glass from a high shelf, problem is that when he leant up his tight t-shirt rode up too and Marcel found his eyes locked on tanned skin and the peaking edges of a tattoo. Marcel almost whimpered, how was he supposed to act casual around a guy like Louis?
“I don’t have Uni on Fridays either,” Marcel offered, his voice slightly breathless as Louis turned back around and filled his pint glass with water; taking a big gulp of it and causing Marcel to have the incongruous feeling of wishing her were a pint glass.
“Awesome, we could hang out then,” Louis said casually, as if that were a completely normal statement, Marcel sat kind of dumbstruck for a few moments before nodding shakily.
“Y-yeah, we could- we could do that,” He finally said and Louis smiled at him before wandering off to get Marcel’s food. He ate quickly and Louis had to go actually work so they didn’t get to really speak again after that, but Marcel still went to his last seminar of the day with a stupidly huge grin on his face.
HARRY’S POV
“Seriously?” Harry snapped, his voice filled with angry disbelief.
“What now?” Zayn snapped back, swivelling his desk chair so he faced where Harry was sat on the bed instead of his computer. Harry held up the incriminating pieces of paper with a glare to match Zayn’s.
“You were supposed to send these forms back last week, Zayn,” Harry admonished, sighing angrily and flipping though the sheets to see that Zayn hadn’t even filled them out. Zayn had applied to this internship at a publishing house and if he didn’t get his arse in gear then he was going to lose the opportunity.
“Who gives a fuck?” Zayn asked in exasperation, turning back to face his computer screen. Harry glared at the back of his head as he stood and stormed over to grab Zayn’s shoulder and spin him forcibly to face him.
“I give a fuck! You need to do this or you’ll never have a chance!” Harry argued, pushing Zayn’s shoulder as if to force the words into him. Harry and Zayn were . . . Difficult. When Marcel had left for their dad’s house, Harry had freaked out when he had to deal with his first thunderstorm alone. So the next time he’d tried to get Louis and Zayn to come over, only Louis had been busy so only Zayn had made it.
Neither of them had planned on what had started that night.
**10 months ago**
The news forecast a huge thunderstorm and Harry was already shaking just thinking about it. He’d suffered through one alone and he trembled at the thought of doing so again. Usually his brother was here to help him but he was staying at their dad’s for a while. Harry bit at the inside of his thumb and jiggled his leg up and down where he sat on the edge of his bed. He couldn’t even ring Marcel; their mum had made phone limits and they’d already used them up for the week. Harry glanced at his phone and reluctantly swallowed his pride. He dialled Louis’ number first, glancing nervously at the rain that was beginning to hit his window whilst he waited for him to answer.
“What’s up, prick?” Louis laughed down the phone, and Harry could hear loud music and voices in the background.
“Hey, could you come over? Like, now?” Harry asked as casually as he could.
“Can’t, mate. I’m at a party and I’m pretty sure two fit blokes are up for it, sooooo no can doooo,” Louis sang down the phone before hanging up, Harry sighed in frustration and dialled Zayn’s number.
“Hello?” came Zayn’s raspy voice.
“Hey, you up to owt?” Harry asked, a desperate edge to his voice that he hoped Zayn couldn’t hear. He’d met Louis and Zayn when he started at the Uni which was only like 2 months ago, but they’d quickly become inseparable.
“Nah, man. Why?” Zayn asked and Harry felt relief rush through him.
“Could you come over? I just . . . Shit, man. I’m scared of thunderstorms, ok? My mum’s at work and I really cannot handle being alone for this shit,” Harry rushed to finish and sat nervously biting at his thumb nail until Zayn replied.
“It’s cool, I’ll come over. Louis coming?” Zayn asked and he sounded completely unfazed by Harry’s confession much to Harry’s joy.
“Nah, he’s at some party attempting to trick multiple guys into coming home with him,” Harry aid with a wide smile, happy now that he knew he wouldn’t have to handle the storm alone. Zayn’s husky chuckle came down the phone in response.
“Why doesn’t that surprise me? I’ll be there in like ten minutes,” Zayn replied and Harry said a quick thanks before hanging up. Zayn showed up maybe 18 minutes later- not that Harry was watching the clock or anything.
“Thank god,” Harry muttered as he let Zayn in. He was soaked from the rain that was already pouring and Harry had the awkward moment of trying not to ogle his strictly heterosexual friend. He knew Zayn was attractive, of course, he wasn’t bloody blind. But as soon as he knew a guy was straight or uninterested, Harry usually lost interest too, and he had with Zayn, but he’d have to be dead not to notice the way that Zayn’s white t-shirt clung damply to his chest, his tattoos showing through the thin material.
“I detoured,” Zayn said and held up a bottle of whiskey with a wide grin.
“Hell yes,” Harry grinned and went to grab Zayn a towel. After Zayn dried off and they’d had enough of the whiskey to be all warm and buzzed but not drunk, they both sat on the couch, flipping through the music channel. When a bolt of lightning flashed and thunder crashed Harry jumped fearfully, his hand reaching out to clamp over Zayn’s forearm. He gave Zayn an apologetic look and let go of his arm.
“Just try to focus on the music, not the storm,” Zayn murmured and Harry nodded shakily, wrapping his arms around his upraised knees. Zayn glanced at him again before moving closer to him and slinging an arm around his shoulder, Harry leant into it gratefully. But the thunder was making Harry shake badly and he was hyperventilating a little and somehow Zayn ended up singing along to the song on the TV- Endorphins with that guy Alex Clare- and Harry was watching him sing and he calmed slightly. But they were really close like this and Harry was already watching Zayn’s face, so when Zayn turned to check on him, their faces were bare centimetres apart.
Harry’s breathing sped up but for a completely different reason now. Zayn wasn’t moving away. That was all Harry could think about, the fact that Zayn still hadn’t moved away. He saw Zayn’s eyes drop to his lips and licked them instinctively, what he didn’t expect was for the action to cause Zayn’s breath to catch in his throat. Wonderland came on the TV then, Natasha Kills’ voice somehow adding to the atmosphere building between him and his friend. Suddenly Zayn lunged forwards, his lips pressed hard to Harry’s and Harry gasped involuntarily before kissing him back just as hungrily. Zayn’s hands were in his hair, pulling sharply and making Harry moan into his mouth. Harry grasped at Zayn’s t-shirt, yanking until Zayn gave in and pulled the still-damp material off, throwing it onto the floor beside the couch.
Harry climbed onto Zayn’s lap when Zayn pulled at his hips in an attempt to move him there, and his friend’s hands quickly got rid of Harry’s t-shirt too. Harry straddled Zayn’s hips, and the two boy’s moved against each other almost desperately. Harry moved shaking fingers down to undo Zayn’s jeans and he thrust his hand beneath the denim and his Calvin Klein’s, wrapping his fingers firmly around Zayn’s length, savouring the moan Zayn let loose. Zayn quickly followed Harry’s example, getting his own hand around Harry and pumping quickly. They moved sinuously together, breathing harshly into each other’s mouths the entire time. When Zayn came the sight triggered Harry’s own release and he finished seconds later, leaning forwards to press their foreheads together. Zayn leant up and kissed Harry and Harry felt butterflies in his stomach, and then giggled at the thought.
“What?” Zayn asked, his face soft as he threaded his fingers in the damp hair at Harry’s nape.
“Gave me butterflies, then I remembered this,” Harry explained softly, tapping the large butterfly tattoo on his abdomen.
“Hmm,” Zayn sighed with a smirk then leant forwards to kiss the design, making Harry’s stomach tense in want. Harry pulled Zayn back by his hair and pressed his lips back against his.
******
After that it became normal for Zayn to come over during thunderstorms or really bad rain, and the same thing happened, though different variations. The strange summer weather had meant nearly 3 weeks straight of thunderstorms and this thing between him and Zayn had simply grown stronger. But they were stuck in this secretive ordeal because Zayn was straight as far as other people were concerned, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to come out as bi or gay or whatever. So they’d argued, but without ever actually talking about the situation between them, it was like they were both just looking for unrelated things to shout about at each other. The situation between them happened within the storm and just as the storm cleared the next day so did whatever it was between them, but they were human and their feelings simply found other ways to express themselves. Like the other night when they’d gone upstairs to get a DVD.
Zayn had kissed some girl at a party and Harry had glanced over at Zayn to ask what DVD he’d like to watch when he saw that Zayn was texting her. He’d basically thrown a bunch of DVD’s at Zayn’s head and proceeded to make up some argument about how ignorant and rude Zayn was for always being on his phone- which wasn’t even true.
But here and now, Zayn was pissed. He stood up and faced Harry, his chest practically brushing Harry’s and Harry swallowed. He wasn’t sure how this was going to go down, but if Zayn hit him then he didn’t know how to react to that.
But no, Zayn did something even more shocking, he grabbed Harry by the back of the neck and pulled him into a deep kiss that left him breathless.
“But it’s not raining,” was the weak rebuff Harry gasped into Zayn’s mouth.
“Fuck the weather,” Zayn growled, walking Harry backwards and pushing him down onto his bed. “And fuck you,” Zayn snapped, kissing him harder.
“Yes please,” Harry moaned in response as Zayn kissed down his neck, and chuckled against his skin.
MARCEL’S POV
Marcel had been doing some reading for class for a while when he heard Harry come home, he checked his watch and it said 9:39pm. He wandered over to Harry’s room and walked in without knocking, Harry was stood in his boxers, obviously having stripped off ready for bed and Marcel tried not to look at the very obvious love-bites all over Harry’s skin, all over his chest, on his hips and even on his thighs.
“Hey,” Harry said with a smile when he saw him, and his face was a little flushed, his eyes wide and happy. Sated, is the word that sprang to Marcel’s mind.
“Hey, what’ve you been up to? Mum asked why you weren’t home for tea and I lied and said you were studying at your mates. Pretty sure she knew I was lying but . . .” Marcel trailed off with a laugh, heading over to sit on Harry’s bed.
“Just out with some friends,” Harry said casually and Marcel wiped a hand over his mouth to stop his urge to laugh.
“Sure,” Marcel said sarcastically, a small laugh escaping his lips anyway.
“Shut up, baby brother,” Harry grinned, throwing a balled up t-shirt at Marcel’s head. “Anyway, how was your first day?” Harry asked pointedly, firmly changing the subject.
“It was really good,” Marcel had decided not to mention Louis but he blushed helplessly anyway.
“What? What aren’t you saying?” Harry asked suspiciously before running over to poke at Marcel’s ribs and tickling him until he was laughing and gasping out pleas. “Come on, spill it, geek-a-saurus,” Harry grinned and Marcel jabbed him in the stomach in retribution.
“I ran into Louis today,” Marcel said reluctantly and Harry’s face hardened instantly.
“I thought I told you he was bad news?” Harry said firmly, standing above Marcel with his arms crossed over his chest.
“So who gave you those love-bites then?” Marcel asked as innocently as possible and Harry’s eyes squinted in annoyance even as his face blushed pink.
“Shut up. I’m fine, but if you get involved with Louis then you won’t be. He’s intense, Marcel, too intense for you,” the last part Harry said gently but Marcel still glared at him for it.
“I can handle him. In fact, I’m hanging out with him this Friday,” Marcel said casually, playing with his shirt sleeve nervously before glancing up at his big brother. Harry’s face was filled with anger and indignation and Marcel sighed in frustration.
“You’re bloody not!” Harry snapped, and so Marcel stood and headed off to his room.
“I’ll do what I want, Harry! I'm my own person!” Marcel shouted back, leaving Harry’s bedroom door open in petty spite.
“All he wants is a good fuck!” Harry snapped.
“Well then I hope I deliver,” Marcel snapped back coyly just as their mum shouted up the stairs.
“Boys! Language!” Anne snapped and they both shouted down a sorry.
“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do, Harry,” Marcel said quieter now, aware of their mum just downstairs.
“I bloody will! You aren’t gonna be another one of his conquests, brother,” Harry replied angrily and Marcel put on a mockingly shocked face.
“Conquests, huh? Big word for you there, brother. Why don’t you go find whatever idiot you were shagging earlier, throw them over your shoulder and take them to a cave somewhere? It’d be handy if your dick was distracting you because then maybe mine could have some fun,” Marcel said slyly, face filled with dry sarcasm and a coy snarkiness that made Harry grit his teeth hard. This wasn’t like the old Marcel, but Marcel had survived a year without Harry’s protectiveness and he found he was a little fed up of living in his brother’s shadow. Marcel slammed his bedroom door behind him and seconds later he heard Harry do the same.
He’d probably regret speaking like that to his brother in the morning, but for right now he pulled out his receipt from the pub today and slowly entered the phone number at the bottom into his mobile, and typed out a quick text;
‘Hey, it’s Marcel, Harry’s brother?’ Seconds later a reply came, like he’d been waiting for Marcel’s text.
‘Hey there, Dimples. Thought you’d never text ;p’ Came Louis’ reply, and Marcel felt a happy grin pull at his lips as he thought about how to respond.
Notes:
i hope you liked this chapter, please please comment your thoughts! i need your feedback desperately. And by the way, if you want my Tumblr is http://thedeliciousrude.tumblr.com/ and you can send me prompts there or just talk to me!
Chapter 4: Drink Me Down
Notes:
Hi guys :) hope you enjoy this next chapter, i'm trying to update as much as possible so hopefully there won't be huge waits between each chapter.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
MARCEL’S POV
Friday came quickly, and when he woke up he wasn’t so sure if he was making the right decision. He and Louis had texted enough to sort out plans for today, but not enough for Marcel to feel like he’d gotten to know Louis. They’d made arrangements to meet at a pub, and if that didn’t make him nervous enough, Louis had said that they could head to the clubs after a few pints. Marcel didn’t do clubs. He’d never been on a night out in his life, and he’d only ever gotten even slightly tipsy when it had been Christmas and Harry had smuggled him too much wine. He’d sat and giggled the entire night and had hidden under the Christmas tree at one point when Harry had drunkenly suggested hide and seek. He’d then pissed himself. Their mother had not been happy.
So all day Marcel was nervous, flitting around the house and rearranging everything. Avoiding his bedroom, because his room meant choosing clothes for tonight, and that would probably give him a heart attack. He had no clothes suitable for a pub or a club.
When Harry came home from Uni at 5 to find Marcel sat on the kitchen floor systematically ripping an entire roll of kitchen paper into centimetre sized pieces, he quietly took the roll away and hugged him, holding him tight as if he could stop Marcel from ripping himself apart much like he’d been doing to the kitchen roll.
“What is it?” Harry asked softly, placing a gentle hand on the back of Marcel’s head where his face was buried in Harry’s chest. Marcel pulled back and his eyes were a little damp.
“I know you disapprove but please can you help me get ready?” Marcel asked desperately, trying hard not to let his tears fall, his breath shaky and uneven through his tight throat. Harry looked at him silently for a few minutes, obviously deciding what to do. It was obvious to Marcel that a big part of Harry wanted to say no, because he knew Marcel enough to know that if he panicked enough then he’d cancel his plans with Louis, and that’s what Harry wants to happen most. Finally Harry sighed and kissed Marcel’s forehead softly.
“Come on,” he replied resignedly, standing up and pulling Marcel to his feet, keeping hold of his hand to almost drag Marcel to Harry’s room.
After seating Marcel on his bed, Harry silently turned to his wardrobe and began digging through the masses of clothes. Marcel felt like he could already breathe a little better.
“Where’s he taking you?” Harry asked softly, obviously still reluctant.
“T-to a pub and then out clubbing. H-harry?” Marcel stammered, twisting his fingers together and looking down at them nervously.
“Yeah?” Harry sighed, pulling out various t-shirts and jeans.
“H-how . . .never mind,” Marcel muttered and Harry came over to squat down in front of him so they were on eye level with each other.
“What is it?” he asked, resting a hand on Marcel’s knee.
“How do I not act like a complete and utter geek?” Marcel muttered, still twisting at his fingers.
“It’s all about your confidence, little brother. Like . . . these glasses,” Harry tapped his glasses with a grin and Marcel looked at him curiously. “With your current confidence level, they’re geeky as hell. But with a take no shit attitude and a pair of kick-arse skinny jeans, then they become a fashion statement that makes you cool, unique,” Harry explained. “It’s just the way the world works, I’m afraid. If you have the balls to not give a shit if someone likes your clothes, then they’re actually more likely to wanna go out and buy the exact same outfit,” his big brother said, smirking wryly. “So, you’re gonna wear these clothes, and you’re gonna be hot, because bitch please, you’re my brother and these are my clothes so you’ve got an advantage,” Harry smirked wickedly, getting up and grabbing a pair of dark grey skinny jeans with black leather patches at the knees, a pair of black ankle boots, and a thin black t-shirt that would hang loose around his neck and show his collar bones and a good deal of his chest. Marcel took them into the bathroom sceptically but he really had no other options. The door bell rang and Harry called out that he’d get it so Marcel just concentrated on getting ready.
HARRY’S POV
Harry opened the front door to see Louis leaning against the wall, and he silently crossed his arms and glared.
“Seriously? We’ve been best mates for a year. I’m not gonna screw your little brother over,” Louis said casually.
“Nah, but you do wanna screw him in general, and that’s not exactly something I’m rooting for,” Harry said sarcastically.
“For god’s sake, Harry. Am I really that bad?” Louis asked annoyed and wide eyed.
“You’re one of my best mates and I love you, but he’s my baby brother and you’re way too intense with people you date,” Harry said emphatically.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Louis said, narrowing his eyes.
“Don’t act like you don’t understand, Lou. You have some kind of power complex, you want every part of someone, and if what you get isn’t enough then you leave,” Harry explained, needing to make Louis see his problem.
“I like being in control, doesn’t mean I’m a psycho, mate. And your brother can handle that,” Louis added and Harry snorted derisively.
“You seriously don’t know anything about him, do you? You know, my brother’s anxiety once got so bad that he just stopped talking. Literally. The doctors called it selective mute-ism or some shit. He basically just decided not to interact with anyone, not even mum and me. I used to stay up late just for the slight chance that he might talk in his sleep, because I missed his voice so much. It lasted months, Louis. Nearly a year, actually,” Harry said, sadness creeping into his voice. That had been a bad time for him, his brother’s silence had almost driven him mad, and he’d been terrified that Marcel was silently screaming in his own mind every time he looked at Harry, and Harry just couldn’t hear it.
“I think he’s stronger now than you give him credit for. And I think you need to back off and give him a chance or he’s never gonna grow,” Louis replied, and Harry saw in Louis’ eyes that the news of his brother’s silence had hurt Louis, had made him sad, and it was that alone that finally made Harry open the door wider and step aside so Louis could enter.
“If you hurt him then you’ll regret it for the rest of your life,” Harry warned and Louis took him seriously for once, didn’t try to make a joke out of the situation.
“I’m not gonna hurt him, Harry,” Louis said calmly, looking straight into Harry’s eyes and Harry sighed.
“Ok,” Harry replied before reaching out to drag Louis into a hug that his mate returned naturally.
“Where is he?” Louis asked when they separated.
“Getting ready. By the way, he’s not so comfortable with the whole night club thing, so just take it easy on him,” Harry said, walking into the living room to drop onto the couch.
“I’ll make sure he has fun,” Louis replied and Harry groaned in disgust at the sly look on Louis’ face. He really didn’t want to think about what that expression meant for his little brother, he could really do without those mental images.
MARCEL’S POV
So maybe he was hyperventilating a little, but he had this under control. Maybe.
The jeans were stupidly tight and Marcel felt way more exposed than he’d ever felt, especially since he’d been right and the thin t-shirt definitely showed more skin than he’d ever shown outside of the swimming pool. And he was pretty sure you could see his nipples through the fabric. But, he could do this, he could act confident. His hair was still the same, and his glasses were still the same, and he took comfort in those things.
Marcel took a deep breath before forcing himself to make his way downstairs. When he got to the bottom both Harry and Louis looked up from where they were seated on the couch playing some game on X-box. Harry grinned and Louis’ face seemed to go dark, his eyes brighter and sharper, and Marcel had the distinct feeling of being hunted as Louis stood and walked towards him.
“Hey, Dimples,” Louis murmured when he was close, a small smirk on his lips and his eyes taking in every inch of Marcel.
“You look great,” Harry chimed in and Marcel sent him a thankful smile that was a little shaky with nerves due to Louis’ proximity.
They headed out and Marcel quietly followed Louis over to a black VW Golf that sat on the curb. It was one of those tuned up cars that was lowered to the ground and purred to life, growling when you made the turbo kick in. Marcel kinda loved it, it was almost . . . sensual, the speed and purr of the engine. The ride was quiet apart from music playing from the radio but it didn’t feel awkward, if felt like Louis didn’t mind when Marcel was silent.
When they got to the pub Louis ordered two pints without asking Marcel and he was grateful, he hated any kind of decision, and he was nervous enough that just choosing a drink would’ve probably set off a panic attack.
“You look good,” Louis said with a grin when they were finally seated and Marcel blushed at the compliment. Louis saying it was a hell of a lot more satisfying than his brother saying it. “But, I think you look amazing in your own clothes. Even if you do make those jeans look deadly,” Louis chuckled, taking a sip of his pint. Marcel took a nervous sip of his pint too and found that he didn’t mind the bitter taste that much.
“You look nice too,” Marcel said quietly and Louis grinned like Marcel had just given him £100. It was true though, he was in a pair of maroon jeans that clung to him sinfully, outlining that bum that made Marcel a little breathless, and a black vest that cut low down nearly to his hips at the sides, showing little flashes of the waisteband of his jeans when he moved just right, his hair done in an artful quiff today.
“You know, your brother doesn’t like me dating you,” Louis said casually and Marcel blushed happily at the word dating.
“My brother can fuck off,” Marcel said then slapped a hand over his mouth when he realised what he’d said, but Louis was now laughing uproariously.
“Eloquently put, Dimples,” Louis finally managed, still chuckling. And from that point it just felt easy, but maybe that was the alcohol mellowing him out? Either way, he was having fun, and he felt light headed every time Louis said something that was obviously filled with double-meaning. When Louis eventually mentioned going to a club, they’d gravitated towards each other, Louis’ hand twined with one of Marcel’s and Marcel nodded eagerly, keeping hold of Louis’ hand as he lead them out of the pub and down the road to a local club. Marcel was still a little quiet, but Louis made up for it by being enthusiastic and flirtatious. There was something dark and hungry in Louis’ gaze though, and Marcel couldn’t help but tremble whenever he caught Louis watching him with that look.
He didn’t know what prompted it, but before they got to the doors of the club, Louis suddenly pulled him sharply so he stumbled into the wall, and pinned him so his back was against the bricks. He was close, his breath brushing Marcel’s lips, their hips pressed close where Louis used his to pinion Marcel’s to the wall.
“I’ve wanted to kiss you all night,” Louis whispered, looking into Marcel’s eyes with an openness that floored him.
“I’ve wanted you to all night,” Marcel finally responded, his voice clear of any nerves, his body warm and settled with the realisation that he really wanted this, wasn’t terrified of any consequences. Louis grinned sharply and then he was kissing him, his lips soft against Marcel’s. Marcel almost melted, wrapping his arms around Louis’ shoulders and clinging to him desperately. Louis’s hands were tight on Marcel’s hips and the feeling gave him goosebumps.
When they finally pulled apart, Louis pecked the end of his nose softly before dragging him to the doors of the club, Marcel followed along with a small, content smile on his lips and strawberry stained cheeks.
They drank a couple more drinks until Marcel was tipsy enough for Louis to convince him that dancing was a good idea. But when Marcel actually got onto the dance floor he froze nervously, having literally no idea how to dance. Louis smiled.
“I’ll help you, baby,” Louis said in his ear and Marcel blushed deep red and nodded. Louis gently turned him so his back was pressed to Louis’ chest. Louis pressed his hands against Marcel’s hips, pulling him back to Louis’ hips and started to move slowly, their bodies grinding together. Marcel’s breath stuttered in his throat and he moaned low, the sound lost in the pulsing base of the music. One of Louis’ hands slid around to press against the bottom of his stomach, hand warm against the flat skin. Marcel held his breath but Louis didn’t move his hand any lower, and Marcel didn’t know if that was good or bad. He let his body be manipulated by Louis’ gentle, firm touch, and finally just relaxed into it, letting his head drop back onto Louis’ shoulder, and Louis’ lips found his neck, peppering the skin with kisses and teasing brushes of teeth. One of Louis’ hands was on the top of Marcel’s thigh, squeezing the muscles flesh, and Marcel couldn’t handle that for much longer.
Marcel finally realised that he needed to get some balls and make a move, otherwise he was going to lose his window of opportunity, so he spun, quickly but wobbly, and pressed his mouth to Louis’. Louis quickly took control of the kiss, hand gripping Marcel’s jaw tightly. Marcel kissed down Louis’ jaw to his ear and gathered his confidence.
“We should go back to your place,” He said quietly, but loud enough that Louis heard him over the music. When Marcel pulled back there was a satisfied look in Louis’ eyes and an anticipatory smirk on his lips. He didn’t reply, instead simply grasping Marcel’s hand tight and leading him out of the club.
“My flat is just down the road,” Louis explained when Marcel questioned him for not walking towards the taxi station.
They walked quickly and Marcel stood nervously behind Louis as he unlocked his door. Louis opened the door and walked in, turning back around when Marcel hesitated at the threshold.
“I won’t bite, Dimples,” Louis murmured with a grin, before reaching down to grasp the hem of his vest and pull it up over his head, throwing it across the room. Marcel couldn’t help but stare at the skin bared to him. “Or I might, if you ask like a good boy,” Louis smirked now and Marcel shuddered out a breath before stepping into the flat and closing the door behind him.
Notes:
Ok guys, i hope you liked this chapter, please comment your thoughts, they're the only things that keep me writing and updating :) thank you so much for all the nice comments you've already given me, i love you guys. Random fact but the tissue ripping thing is actually one of my own anxiety coping mechanisms haha just felt like i am very in tune with Marcel :) remember guys, if you wanna send in prompts then you can do it on here or you can message me on my tumblr http://thedeliciousrude.tumblr.com/
Chapter 5: Don't Let Me Drown
Summary:
"Will you walk into my parlour?" said the Spider to the Fly," sorry, just thought that quote was pretty apt for this chapter ;)
Notes:
Your comments were great, guys. I hope you enjoy this chapter <3
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
HARRY’S POV
So maybe Harry was nervous, and so maybe he’d texted Zayn, and maybe he’d sounded a little desperate. So when Zayn had texted back with a simple 'busy', no kisses or anything; maybe that had pissed him off. Harry wasn’t to blame for straight away dialling Zayn’s number, thunderous expression on his face. This was all Louis’ fault, and Harry was going to stick to that belief, because if his mate had just left his little brother alone, Harry wouldn’t be sat at home on a Friday night wondering if Marcel was ok or getting high in a night club bathroom.
“What the actual fuck, Zayn?” Harry snapped as soon as Zayn answered the phone, not giving him time to speak.
“Erm, I’m sorry, Zayn’s in the toilettes, he left his phone on the table. I can get him to ring you back in a minute though?” Came a nervous female voice, and Harry froze.
“No, that’s ok. I’ll just talk to him later,” Harry said calmly, his voice distorted by the fact that his jaw was clenched so tight it was hard to open his mouth. He couldn’t even compute this situation right now.
“Ok, well, bye then?” the girl replied timidly and Harry snapped a good bye before hanging up. So Zayn was on a date. With a girl. Harry needed to make himself realise that Zayn obviously wasn’t that into him. Maybe he’d just been a bit of harmless experimentation? That thought made a hallow pang shoot through his chest. He cared about Zayn, he isn’t in love with him or anything, but the thing is that he’d thought that he would fall in love with him at some point. He’d had thoughts about one day being in an actual relationship with him, and Harry should have known better, really. He’d had experience with closeted guys before, and it always ended up with Harry hurt. He should have known that Zayn wouldn’t be any different.
His phone rang a few minutes later, Zayn’s name a picture of him grinning flashing across his screen, and Harry hit busy without even pausing. He wanted Zayn to know that Harry was mad. So every time Zayn rang he hit ‘busy’ and he refused to read any of the texts coming through, until finally he just turned his phone off, his heart filled with an aching hollowness that forced a few tears from his eyes.
Whatever Marcel was doing couldn’t be worse than this.
MARCEL’S POV
Louis’ fingers were firm in his hair, his body pressed against Marcel’s, pushing him back until the back of his knees hit the couch and he fell down, Louis quickly climbing into his lap and straddling his hips. Louis moved his mouth, kissing down Marcel’s neck, sucking big, obvious love bites into his pale skin, before pulling back to tug insistently at the bottom of Marcel’s t-shirt until Marcel helped him pull it over his head. When they were both topless Louis leant forwards to press their bodies together, the muscled heat of Louis’ chest making Marcel gasp as Louis slithered down to kiss Marcel’s chest. When Louis’ fingers went to the button of his jeans, Marcel had a moment of nervous panic and placed his hand over Louis’, stilling his movements. Louis looked up into Marcel’s eyes and Marcel almost gave in at the heat in those blue eyes, at the wet, swollen lips, at the flushed cheeks, but he forced himself to be responsible.
“I-I think it’s too early for us to . . .” Marcel lost his nerve, cringing and lifting his hands to cover his face. Louis let out a soft little laugh and lifted his hands to pull Marcel’s away from his face, forcing him to meet his bright gaze.
Louis leant forwards until his words were whispered into Marcel’s open mouth.
“Don’t worry, I don’t fuck on the first date,” Louis said bluntly, making Marcel blush in embarrassment, but then Louis moved so his lips brushed against Marcel’s earlobe, sending shivers down his neck, “But I do suck,” Louis murmured and Marcel couldn’t stop the whimper that tore from his throat. Louis moved then, and he was all fluid grace as he slid to kneel between Marcel’s thighs, sliding his hands up those jean-clad thighs to carry on unbuttoning his trousers. Louis leaned forwards and licked a bold stripe across the skin above his waistband and Marcel’s whole body shuddered at the feeling. Marcel couldn’t do anything but watch, wide-eyed and nervous as Louis got his trousers unfastened and tapped his fingers against Marcel’s hip to make him lift them, and he slid both Marcel’s jeans and boxers down at once, making Marcel quickly drop his bum back onto the couch and lift his hands to cover his exposed crotch. Louis leant down to kiss his hands softly, and he looked up at Marcel with an open gaze and soft expression that promised Marcel something, that was asking him to trust him, was telling him everything was going to be ok. So Marcel exhaled shakily and moved his hands slowly until he was bare to Louis’ gaze. But Louis didn’t look down, which Marcel was grateful for. Instead he stood and straddled Marcel’s hips again, causing Marcel to gasp at the feel of denim on his sensitive cock.
Louis leaned in and kissed him gently, gradually deepening it until Marcel was trying and failing to hide his need to squirm. Louis smiled wickedly against his lips and slid a hand down Marcel’s chest until he could wrap it around his length. Marcel gasped into Louis’ mouth at the feel of that warm, slightly rough palm. Louis stroked expertly, and the feeling distracted Marcel enough that he didn’t notice Louis moving until he was knelt again between his thighs. He did notice when Louis suddenly licked a bold stripe from base to tip, and Marcel’s hips shot up unconsciously, his hands gripping the couch cushions as his eyes popped wide open from where they’d drifted shut in pleasure. Louis quickly took the head in his mouth; laving him gently with his tongue. One of Marcel’s hands fluttered about nervously, needing some kind of anchor, and Louis seemed to sense that, because he lifted his eyes to look into Marcel’s before gently twinning his fingers with Marcel’s, his hold gentle but firm, giving Marcel a point to focus on. Louis seemed to sense his slight calming and took advantage, sucking harder and pulling Marcel’s length further into his mouth.
After that Marcel’s brain kind of short-circuited, and all he could do was watch as Louis’ head bobbed up and down, and feel his body tremble at the sensations. When he felt himself getting close he lifted his other hand to clench in Louis’ hair, attempting to pull him away, gasping out a warming, but Louis just sucked harder and Marcel was helpless against his own release. Louis swallowed every bit of him and Marcel whimpered and moaned until the tremors stopped wracking his body. When Louis pulled back and placed his forehead against Marcel’s thigh, a smug smiled on his lips, Marcel noticed that Louis’ other hand had been busy. Louis’ release was wet against his own stomach, and Marcel almost groaned at the sight, helpless against the knowledge that sucking him off had turned Louis on so much.
When Louis caught his breath he stood on shaky legs and slithered back into Marcel’s lap, kissing him with lips that tasted of Marcel.
“So how was your first blow job?” Louis asked innocently, but his eyes glistened with mischief, and Marcel couldn’t help but giggle and bury his face in Louis’ neck, his cheeks hot with embarrassment.
“Shut up,” Marcel groaned with a shy grin, pulling back but keeping his lashes low. Louis grabbed his jaw and lifted his face so he was forced to meet his gaze.
“You were amazing, Dimples. A fucking stunner,” Louis grinned, leaning down to rub his nose against Marcel’s. And Marcel blushed even deeper, but timidly leaned up to peck Louis’ lips. “Now come on,” Louis smiled then, standing up and pulling a loose-limbed Marcel up with him.
Of course Marcel almost tripped when he forgot his trousers were around his calves, but Louis merely caught him and leant down to pull them down further, urging Marcel to step out of them so he was fully bare. Marcel felt awkward then, still not comfortable so naked around someone else, but Louis acted like he didn’t notice it, and Marcel silently thanked him for that. Louis’ own trousers were only undone, not pushed down, as he had only put a hand down them instead of stripping.
Louis led him to a bedroom and pulled him into the big double bed beside him after getting rid of the rest of his own clothes, and when Marcel anxiously curled up so he didn’t take up too much room; Louis grabbed him and cuddled him into his side.
Marcel fell asleep tangled in Louis and his sheets and thought to himself that he’d happily stay there forever.
HARRY’S POV
Harry woke up with tear-swollen eyes and a blocked nose, and he really wasn’t ready to realise that Marcel hadn’t even come home last night, but when he walked into Marcel’s room the bed was still made and there was no sign of his little brother. Harry sighed and wandered back into his own room, not prepared to go downstairs and have his mum badger him about why the hell he’d been crying. He reluctantly turned on his phone, risking the heartache through worry for his brother. The clock read 11:38am and Harry sighed as he saw he had 12 texts and 7 missed calls from Zayn. He ignored them all in favour of the one from Marcel; ‘I’ll be home around dinner time, woke up late, just having breakfast then Louis will drive me home xXx’. Harry sighed and reluctantly opened the texts from Zayn. As he read down them, they went from casual ‘what did you want mate?’ to ‘are you mad?’ to ‘you have no right to be such a dick’ and then finally settled on ‘she means nothing to me’. Harry started crying again then, he thought he deserved a little bit of self pity right now. Zayn seemed to have some kind of back door into Harry’s emotions and no matter how much Harry told himself not to care, to just have fun sleeping with Zayn, his friend just seemed to sneak in anyway and set up camp in his emotional centre.
When Harry heard voices downstairs he felt a wave of relief and went to go interrogate Marcel about his night, but when he got halfway down the stairs he realised that the voices he heard were actually his mum and Zayn.
His mum looked up with a grin when she saw Harry and Zayn looked at him nervously, but Harry refused to meet his gaze.
“I don’t want any visitors, not feeling great, you shouldn’t have let him in, mum,” Harry said, trying not to take his hurt out on his mum, and he saw Zayn flinch slightly. His mum just looked confused.
“I erm, I just have to talk to you about something then I’ll leave, okay?” and Harry could hear the desperate edge to Zayn’s voice. Harry paused but reluctantly nodded and started back upstairs, Zayn following him quietly. He sat on his bed and Zayn shut the door quietly before walking over to sit next to him but kept a small gap between them so they didn’t accidently touch.
“You gonna talk to me about last night?” Zayn asked quietly.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about, mate,” Harry sighed, keeping his face as blank as possible. Zayn seemed to flinch at the word ‘mate’, he knew that for once Harry was actually using that word on purpose.
“Don’t be like this, Haz,” Zayn begged and Harry frowned down at the floor, resting his elbows on his knees. He was dressed only in his gym shorts that he’d worn to bed and he felt vulnerable when faced with Zayn in all his fashionable glory. Zayn reached out a tentative hand and brushed it over Harry’s shoulder to clasp the back of his neck, and Harry’s eyes drifted shut at the feeling. But he stood and shook Zayn’s hold off after a second, realising he’d just crumble if he let Zayn touch him. He faced Zayn then, crossing his arms over his chest, and Zayn sighed in resignation.
“What am I to you, Zayn? Honestly,” Harry asked, tired of the games. Zayn’s face fell open for a second and Harry saw the panic in his brown eyes, until he controlled himself and put up his calm mask, a lazy smile now on his lips.
“You’re my best mate,” Zayn replied with an easy smile, and Harry looked at him for a second before turning his back.
“Go home, Zayn. I need . . . I need a few days to myself, I think,” Harry forced himself to say, keeping his voice calm even if his eyes were damp, because Zayn could hear him but he couldn’t see his face.
“Sure mate, let me know when you wanna hang out,” Zayn said casually, and Harry almost sobbed. It was like Zayn just disconnected, wasn’t even bothered anymore about the worry that had obviously forced him to come check on Harry this morning. Zayn left and Harry didn’t know what to do with himself.
When Marcel came home it was like they’d switched roles. Marcel held him in a pile of cushions and duvets and let him put on sad movies so he had an excuse for his endless tears, and not once did he ask for a reason, not once did his face look curious. He just held Harry and kissed his head every few minutes, running off every now and then to get snacks and tissues and to fend off their mum with lies that Harry was just feeling sick. He was his rock as Harry had been for him for so long, and for the first time Harry saw his brother’s strength, and realised that maybe he’d been wrong about him.
When Harry asked about his night out with Louis, Marcel smiled in a way that made Harry’s heart hurt, he hadn’t seen such a genuinely happy smile from his brother since they were kids. He felt terrified that Louis would hurt him, would bruise his heart the way Zayn was bruising his. So he made himself speak a little about what was hurting him, because he needed to know Marcel was being smart, wasn’t just naively letting his heart be taken.
“Be careful, okay? It’s not fun when your heart gets played with,” Harry whispered, a sad smile on his lips, and Marcel searched his eyes for a second before nodding wordlessly. Harry cuddled back into his arms then, refocusing on the movie Marcel had put in- it was possibly the one where the dog dies?- and Marcel didn’t say anything for the rest of the night, letting Harry fall asleep on him.
When Harry woke up to pee in the middle of the night, they were still close together in the bed, his baby brother sound asleep. He realised then how grateful he was for a brother like Marcel.
Notes:
you guys are great and as usual your comments are the wind beneath my wings! (okay that was severely pathetic, but oh well) and i love you guys for all the love you've given this fic :) i hope i'm doing a good job. As always, if you wanna send me a prompt or a suggestion for this fic or for a completely new fic, or even just wanna say hi :) then my tumblr is http://thedeliciousrude.tumblr.com/ xXx
Chapter 6: Fear Of Falling Apart
Notes:
So sorry for being a sucky updater! This chapter is long to make it up to you all! :) hope you enjoy! oh and if you kinda wanna understand my whole mood writing the Zarry bit, then just listen to This Is Gospel by Panic! At The Disco, because the chorus to that made me very emotional and i took it out on the boys haha <3
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
MARCEL’S POV
Monday at uni was different, Marcel felt . . . calmer. Louis had texted him all weekend, and Marcel had texted back whenever Harry didn’t need his attention, which wasn’t often but Marcel kept his patience with his big brother. Harry was hurt, that much was obvious to Marcel. Some guy had bruised his brothers heart, but Harry refused to say anything about it, so Marcel was left with nothing to offer but affection. Marcel had slept in Harry’s bed again last night, silently slipping under the covers so Harry wouldn’t feel embarrassed asking him. He hadn’t said a word about it, only turning to face Marcel before reaching a hand out onto the mattress between them which Marcel clasped tightly until they both drifted off to sleep.
But his texting with Louis had seemed to brighten his outlook, make him feel like smiling for no reason, made him a little it more comfortable with himself. Louis wasn’t some magic cure, but Marcel was grateful for whatever calm he could get, since the state wasn’t something he was familiar with. It’d been a long time since he’d felt anything but anxious.
In his lecture he sat down beside two guys his age who either always sat beside him, or he sat beside them. They’d barely exchanged more than a few pleasant words, but somehow they’d built a habit of sitting together, as if both boys sensed Marcel didn’t want to make friends but also didn’t particularly want to awkwardly sit alone. One boy was a blond lad, though his hair was obviously artificially coloured, and the other had brown hair done in a small quiff, the sides shaved close to his scalp.
When he sat down he gave them both a pleasant smile, his current mood lightening his whole demeanour and the two boys smiled back.
“Morning,” the brown haired boy said cheerfully.
“You look smug, what’ve you been up to this weekend?” the blond asked, his voice was heavily accented, Irish obviously.
“Niall! That’s kind of rude, we haven’t even exchanged names yet!” the brown haired one scolded, and the blond- Niall- just threw his head back and laughed, the noise echoing through the lecture hall and turning heads their way. Marcel started to get shifty under the attention of so many people but luckily they looked away when they saw there was nothing interesting happening.
“Whatever. I’m Niall, by the way,” Niall said, holding out a hand that Marcel shook with trembling fingers.
“I’m Liam Payne,” The brunet offered, holding his hand out with a soft smile and Marcel shook his hand too, inwardly panicking about whether or not his hand was too sweaty.
“I’m Marcel . . . Styles,” Marcel offered awkwardly, and the two guys smiled at him encouragingly.
For the whole lecture, the one called Niall performed a whispered, scathing commentary on anything the lecturer said, making Marcel hold back giggles and making Liam frown and shush him multiple times. When Niall leant over and whispered; “Stevenson was married to a fuckin’ dementor,” about the photo on screen (*see notes*), Marcel snorted out a laugh without his control and then blushed deep red and nearly threw up when the entire room, including the lecturer, turned to look at him questioningly. Liam noticed his discomfort and squeezed his shoulder comfortingly, Marcel gave him a weak smile and Niall attempted to behave for the rest of the lecture.
As they walked out, Marcel about to head to the pub where Louis worked to pass some time before his seminar when Liam stopped him, calling his name. Marcel turned and Liam and Niall walked over with big smiles.
“We’re gonna head into town and get a coffee or something until our seminar, you wanna join?” Liam asked and Marcel didn’t know what to say right away but smiled carefully, kinda confused as to why these two guys would want to spend their free time with him.
“I was actually gonna head over to a pub in the centre, my erm . . . Louis, my friend, he’s the bartender there,” Marcel stuttered, feeling uncomfortable when he didn’t know what to call Louis, but also that he didn’t know whether these two guys would be ok with his sexuality.
“Pub?” Niall asked, his eyes bright with interest, and when Marcel nodded Niall turned to Liam with a pleading expression. Liam sighed and nodded reluctantly.
“Would you mind if we joined?” Liam asked politely and Marcel smiled in genuine happiness; looks like he’d finally made some friends.
They walked to the pub, Niall and Liam chattering happily- obviously they were close friends- and even persuading Marcel to join in a few times.
When they walked in through the entrance of the pub Louis looked up and grinned at Marcel.
“Hey,” Marcel murmured as he came up to the bar, a small blush on his cheeks as his night with Louis came rushing back to his mind- not that he’d ever forget that night- and Louis leant over the bar to hug him tightly.
“Hey Dimples, who’re your mates?” Louis asked as he pulled back, and Niall and Liam came forwards with matching grins.
“This Niall and Liam,” Marcel offered, motioning to them so Louis knew who was who. Louis held out a hand to each guy, crooked grin still on his lips.
“Y’alright lads? I’m Louis Tomlinson,” Louis said and the three boys all took seats on the stalls set up at the bar.
“I’ll be great if I can get a pint, mate?” Niall replied with a grin and Louis laughed, turning to pour Niall a pint.
“I like this guy,” Louis said to Marcel, and Marcel felt a strange flush of pride at that. “What would you like?” Louis asked Liam and Liam ordered a coke much to Niall’s protest.
“You never just have fun, Liam, that’s your problem,” Niall said casually and Liam rolled his eyes with a small smile, making it clear this was an argument they had often.
Louis got Marcel a lemonade and Marcel smiled softly down at the bar, knowing Louis remembered that on Saturday morning when they’d been fooling around asking stupid questions like ‘how many grapes can you fit in your mouth at once?’, when Louis had asked him that if he could only drink one drink for the rest of his life, what would it be? Marcel had answered Lemonade much to his amusement. Louis had answered vodka, and when Marcel had made the point that he’d die if he only ever drank vodka, Louis replied with an eye-roll before coyly saying that if he could have some made up world where you were only allowed one thing to drink then he could have vodka that sustained his health whilst also keeping him blissfully drunk every minute of the day.
“Thank you,” Marcel said quietly and looked up at him with a gentle smile, reaching up to push his glasses up his nose.
“S’alright, baby,” Louis said with a wink and Marcel blushed happily.
“So, how long have you guys been together?” Niall asked loudly and Marcel looked at him wide-eyed while Louis smirked.
“We just started dating,” Louis calmly answered and Marcel blushed, grateful Louis had answered since Marcel had no idea how to properly answer that question.
“You need to filter, what if they hadn’t wanted people to know?” Liam asked Niall pointedly and Niall shrugged.
“They weren’t exactly subtle, we’ve been here 3 minutes and I knew,” Niall pointed out and Marcel felt words bubble to his lips.
“So you don’t mind?” He asked, curious and nervous at the same time.
“That you’re dating? Why would I?” Niall asked distractedly as he took a sip of his pint and then got distracted by a darts board by the side of the bar. He jumped off his stool and walked over to grab some darts and began throwing them, Marcel was about to ask him again when he answered. “Not like I wanna jump your bones,” he finished casually and Liam frowned at him for his blunt phrasing.
“So you . . . Don’t have an issue with the gay thing?” Marcel asked quietly and Liam turned to look at him with a funny expression. Niall looked at him for a second before bursting into laughter, his face going red with how hard he was laughing. Marcel looked at Niall confusedly before glancing at Louis who was smirking but decidedly not giving away why he thought Niall was laughing manically. Niall walked back to them, chuckling deeply, and Liam turned to him.
“That’d be a bit hypocritical since he’s my boyfriend,” Liam said gently as he brought his hands up to hold Niall’s forearms as Niall hugged his shoulders from behind.
“Oh!” Marcel sad, too shocked to say much else.
“How long you been together?” Louis asked, hands busy cleaning glasses with a white flannel.
“Ermmm . . . just over 4 years?” Liam looked up and Niall and Niall nodded in agreement.
“Since we were 14,” Niall added and Marcel’s eyes widened.
“Wow, long time,” was all Marcel could manage, and he blushed at how stupid that sounded.
“Tell me about it,” Niall said, rolling his eyes and Liam pouted and reached up to smack the back of his head. Niall laughed and pressed a purposefully sloppy kiss into Liam’s temple before letting go and wandering back over to the darts board.
“Ignore him, he’s an idiot,” Liam smiled and Marcel relaxed a little, there was something soothing about Liam. Niall seemed full of energy, and that made Marcel nervous, but Liam’s brown eyes seemed grounded, steady. Marcel figured that was probably why their relationship had lasted so long. Marcel glanced at Louis slyly and thought about how the two of them worked together.
Marcel knew he was difficult, was a product of his anxiety, and he knew he needed a comforting presence sometimes just to make it through the day. And he felt like that was Louis. Louis was in no doubt a scary looking guy. He might be shorter than Marcel but he was muscled and tattooed and pierced and frankly the complete and utter opposite of Marcel himself. But he was also a strong, steady presence, even having known him for only this short amount of time, Marcel knew that Louis could hold him safe. Marcel knew from Harry that Louis was a partier, and slept around quite a bit, but for some reason this didn’t faze Marcel. He felt like something in Louis’ eyes was loyal, that if he chose one person he wouldn’t sneak off with other people. And Marcel kind of liked that he was partier, that he was full of excitement and vitality compared to Marcel’s fear of the world.
The rest of their free time was filled with laughs and banter and Marcel may not have said much but he could feel himself warming to Niall and Liam, and when it was time for them to leave Marcel got up reluctantly. Louis leant over the bar with a smirk and Marcel leant over with blush to join their lips in a soft kiss that made Niall catcall so loud that Liam pushed him out of the door.
When Niall and Liam asked if he’d like to come out around town that Wednesday night- student night meant cheap drinks, one pound for two shots- Marcel agreed nervously, asking if it was ok that Louis and his brother come too, then quickly asking if Zayn could also join, and Niall laughed and said the more the merrier so Marcel texted Louis and Harry with the details, asking that either one of them ask Zayn since he didn’t have his number.
HARRY’S POV
When Wednesday night came around Harry was laid face down on his bed, wishing some cosmic force would smite him, and he’d never have to face the world again. Marcel had texted about this night and asked if he’d invite Zayn for him, and Harry had decided he’d just lie and say Zayn had said he was busy, but Harry hadn’t counted on the fact that Marcel had also asked Louis and Zayn had agreed to come. So his efforts had been for nothing.
Harry couldn’t think of anything worse than going out with Zayn there. He really wasn’t in the mood for watching Zayn dance with pretty girls all night and he really wasn’t in the mood for watching as Zayn invited one of them back to his house. But he had no choice since he’d promised his brother.
Marcel came into his room just then and pounced on top of him, sitting on his back and basically crushing him to death.
“Get the hell off, you annoying little shit,” Harry groaned, finally knocking him off, Marcel’s laughter ringing around the room and making him smile reluctantly.
“Can I borrow your black skinny jeans,” Marcel giggled out, laying on his back beside him, wide grin on his face, hair messy and still curly since he hadn’t brushed it after the shower he just had. It was times like this, when Marcel was dressed in a tshirt and shorts, his hair a curly mess, no glasses on, that Harry could practically see himself looking back at him. Looking at Marcel was like seeing this younger, softer, delicate version of himself, and it scared him. It scared him because Marcel didn’t have that thick skin, that hardness that would keep him safe from the harsher sides of the world. But it also kind of saddened him, he felt a little jealous of that look in Marcel’s eyes, that innocent happiness, but at the same time he’d never begrudge any happiness Marcel could find.
“Yeah, sure,” Harry replied and stood up to dig them out, throwing them over to Marcel before rummaging through for his own outfit.
“How come you don’t really wanna come?” Marcel asked carefully and Harry turned to look at him for a second before turning back to his clothes.
“Zayn’s just been pissing me off lately, it’s nothing really, don’t worry,” Harry replied, calmly pulling out a flannel shirt he’d ripped the sleeves off and pulling it on over his bare chest, buttoning it only a small way so that you could see his two sparrows and the top of the butterfly tattoo. He already had on a pair of black skinnys that were identical to the ones he’d thrown Marcel. Harry knew he was a little on show in this shirt, and that his arms looked good, but he definitely wasn’t doing it for a certain brown-eyed bastard.
Marcel wandered off then and when he came back he was wearing the jeans and a tshirt that was practically painted on; it had a high neckline and rolled up sleeves, it was amazingly in fashion right now and Harry stared at him in utter disbelief. Marcel blushed and pulled at the hem nervously.
“Mum bought it,” he said finally, voice small and shaky.
“That makes more sense,” Harry replied but still couldn’t look away. “What made her buy that?”
“She got it me for a coming home gift, she said I should try to keep up with trends or something,” Marcel replied and he looked so nervous that Harry walked over and pulled him into a quick hug.
“You look great,” Harry grinned, then pointed at one of the tiny white love hearts decorating the black top and smirked, “Pretty,” he winked and Marcel groaned in annoyance.
“Oh shut up, at least I have an entire top, not just a piece of one,” Marcel sniped, pointedly looking at Harry’s missing sleeves. Harry laughed and decided that from then on he was going to at least try to enjoy the night. When Marcel groaned that his hair wasn’t going right he convinced him to let him do it for him and Harry styled it into a fashionable quiff, and when Marcel slipped on his glasses Harry felt really proud all of a sudden. Marcel was trying really hard and Harry knew that all of this was ridiculously out of his comfort zone, but Marcel wasn’t panicking too much, he looked nervous as hell but he was holding himself together, and Harry felt like maybe Louis was good for him in some ways. If Louis was the reason for Marcel attempting all these new things then he was happy for them, because it wasn’t that Marcel needed to change, it was that he needed to be unafraid to try new things and see if he liked them instead of sticking to what was familiar.
When they got to the club they quickly found Liam and Niall, stood by the bar drinking from identical glass bottles of beer. They exchanged hello’s, Harry introducing himself to the two lads and quickly warming to them. They’d both gotten a drink by the time Louis and Zayn came sauntering through the crowd. Harry gave Louis a hug and a grin but pointedly didn’t even look at Zayn, and to his credit Zayn didn’t attempt to start a scene about it. Zayn was quickly introduced to Liam and Niall, and seconds later Louis was whispering in Marcel’s ear and he seemed to convince him of something because Marcel shyly nodded and Louis lead him off to the dance floor. Harry watching in shock as Marcel danced, having never seen his brother dance other than one Christmas when he’d gotten spectacularly drunk and gotten grounded for pissing under the Christmas tree then throwing cookies at their mother when she tried to drag him out from under it, all the while screaming; “I shall not be moved by this wench!”. Yeah, to say their mum now monitored their alcohol at family events would be an understatement. She also banned him from playing some online medieval role playing game because she thought it was teaching him misogynistic language.
After the shock of Marcel dancing wore off he turned to Niall and Liam. The two lads were huddled close together, Niall on a bar stool and Liam between the vee of his thighs, foreheads pressed together as they spoke to each other in soft tones that Harry couldn’t hear over the base. Harry turned away to have a drink of his beer and noticed Zayn leaning casually beside him. He glanced over at Harry then, and his face was tense, his eyes asking something that Harry didn’t know how to answer, so he sighed and stormed off, taking his beer with him and started dancing on the dance floor with some people he vaguely knew from one of his seminars. He got drunk fast on purpose from all the drinks that friends were handing him, willing himself to stop glancing to find Zayn every few minutes, but it was an impossible task. He could see that Zayn wasn’t in the mood to be out right now, in fact he looked at little pissed off. Harry grinned smugly and wandered back over to him, his 6 beers and countless free shots giving him a false confidence. He walked up to Zayn, his friend’s face looking suspicious, and didn’t stop until he was stood between the vee of Zayn’s legs where he was sat on a bar stool. Harry leant in so his mouth brushed Zayn’s ear with every word, but Zayn stayed stoically still.
“What’s up, Zayny? A little moody? Why don’t you just go have a good shag, I’m sure any one of these bitches would love the chance,” Harry purred, his voice low and slow, thick like honey. He saw Zayn’s jaw work as he clenched his teeth in annoyance, but he didn’t respond in any other way and Harry casually trailed his lips down the side of his neck in retribution for ignoring him, licking his tongue out to dab at Zayn’s pulse point, before trailing back up to his ear. Harry turned then, pressing his bum back into Zayn’s crotch and leaning his head to the side and back so he could talk into Zayn’s ear but whilst they both still had a view of the dance floor. “So which will it be? Which bitch do you wanna take home? Come on, baby, don’t tell me you’re scared? You’re the ladies man, right?” Harry knew he was taunting Zayn, he knew he was pissing him off, his thunderous expression was testament to that, but he couldn’t help himself. He trailed his hands up Zayn’s jean clad thighs, his bum still resting against his crotch and leant back to purr in his ear. “Come on, don’t be a pussy. Which one? I’ll give you a tenner if you can get them to go home with you. How about that blonde?” Harry suggested, raising a hand to point. Zayn’s hands came up and clenched hard on his hips, and Harry couldn’t help but squirm a little, rubbing their hips together.
“The one with the curly hair,” Zayn said and Harry found three girls matching that description.
“The one in the black dress is hot, if I was straight then I’d do her,” Harry replied, his voice had a bitter edge but he actually wasn’t that bothered, he was too drunk to give a shit about it.
“Nah, the one in the jeans,” Zayn said, his tone strange and Harry looked but I he couldn’t find the girl in jeans.
“I don’t see her,” Harry replied and he felt Zayn lean forwards so his lips brushed at the skin behind Harry’s ear, sending shivers down his spine.
“Got green eyes. Fucking stupidly long legs. Tattoos,” Zayn clarified and Harry felt his stomach tense with butterflies, and his breath shuddered out of him.
“You won’t be earning that tenner then,” Harry snapped, but didn’t move away, and he couldn’t exactly explain why he didn’t just leave, why he didn’t tell Zayn to piss off, and go home.
“I think I could,” Zayn murmured in his ear, his fingers brushing at the bare skin of Harry’s hips just above his jeans.
“I think you’ve got the wrong person, mate. I happen to have a key piece of anatomy you claim not to fancy,” Harry replied, a little breathless as Zayn kissed the skin at the back of his neck just under his hair line.
“Shut the fuck up, you curly haired little bitch,” Zayn snapped into his ear and Harry smirked. He grabbed Zayn’s hands where they sat on his hips and pulled as he stepped forwards to Zayn was forced to get off of the chair and follow him. Harry tugged Zayn towards the dance floor and once they were in the press of sweaty bodies, Zayn fitted himself to Harry’s back, hands harsh as they yanked him back into his body by Harry’s hips. Harry arched his neck back to kiss Zayn over his shoulder as they ground their bodies together, and Zayn’s lips were controlling against his. 'Rockstar' came on, and Harry mentally thanked RhiRhi for the epic song as he rolled his hips to the tune, and he could feel Zayn’s body reacting to Harry’s movements. Zayn spun Harry bodily, forcing his body to do what he wanted, and his hand came up to fist in Harry’s curls at his nape, tugging sharply so Harry’s neck arched backwards, his mouth descending to mark the pale skin there, biting at Harry’s tendons sharply.
Zayn leant in to whisper into Harry’s ear, their heights similar enough that it wasn’t difficult.
“Come back to mine,” Zayn murmured, their bodies still moving in sync but now it was to the beat of 'Talk Dirty To Me', Jason Derulo’s new song.
“No,” Harry replied and Zayn bit his ear in punishment.
“You know you want to, so stop being stubborn.”
“Just because I want you to fuck me doesn’t mean I should actually let you,” Harry breathed into Zayn’s ear and he felt Zayn’s groan where their chests were pressed together.
“Why the hell not?” Zayn snapped, tugging Harry in for a deep kiss, his tongue insistent against Harry’s.
“Because you hurt me, and I’m not gonna be the one you shag when shagging that bimbo isn’t good enough for you,” Harry replied and spun so his back was to Zayn and he could grind back into him, Zayn’s breath brushing his nape, his hands hot as they stroked the front of Harry’s body, even daring a sly graze over the obvious bulge in his jeans.
“I didn’t shag her,” Zayn replied and Harry’s hips stuttered for a second.
“You’re lying,” Harry sing-songed back at him, continuing his movements even if his head felt a little dizzy now.
“I couldn’t go through with it. Got her back to my place, got her clothes off, then told her to leave. She isn’t speaking to me anymore obviously,” Zayn said wryly and Harry stopped moving altogether, turning to face Zayn with a wary, guarded expression. Zayn looked at him for a second before grabbing his hand and pulling him off of the dance floor and outside the club. When they were outside Harry leant against the wall and Zayn took out a cigarette. They were the bane of Harry’s existence. He hated them, but Zayn also looked unfairly hot when he had one in his mouth. Zayn took a breath and blew out the smoke, directing it away from Harry. When he looked back at Harry he raised an eyebrow at the cigarette and Zayn sighed and looked at it sadly before throwing the fag into a nearby puddle. Harry smiled to himself at the action.
“I didn’t sleep with her, Haz,” Zayn said again, and Harry searched his face for a moment.
“Why not?” Harry asked, and he knew by the panic in Zayn’s eyes that he hadn’t wanted Harry to ask, had merely hoped that the fact he hadn’t would be enough for Harry. But Harry was fed up of the games, of the double meanings to everything, either Zayn said the truth or they were over as anything more than friends.
“I- I dunno, I just didn’t, can’t you just accept that?” Zayn asked desperately and Harry mutely shook his head. Zayn sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face. “She just . . . wasn’t right,” Zayn forced out, looking anywhere but at Harry.
“Why wasn’t she right?” Harry asked softly, knowing this was hard for Zayn but also knowing that he couldn’t keep making excuses for him. Zayn looked up then and met his eyes with a guarded expression.
“She wasn’t you,” Zayn muttered like a stubborn child and Harry felt his face fall soft, an ache start up in his chest, and his breath stuttered in his throat. Harry reached out a hand and Zayn took it after a second, Harry used the hold to carefully tug Zayn closer until he could wrap his arms around the man’s shoulders. Zayn sighed and wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist and Harry leant up to press his lips to Zayn’s ear.
“Take me home,” Harry murmured and he felt Zayn’s breath leave him quickly before he nodded and pulled away to drag Harry over to a taxi waiting at the taxi stand.
When they got to Zayn’s he lead Harry upstairs and as soon as they were in the bedroom Zayn turned his iPod on in the docking station, filling the room with a soft tune that thrummed in Harry’s blood. Zayn walked over to him and gently pulled Harry in for a soft kiss that made Harry melt against his chest. Zayn unbuttoned the few buttons on Harry’s shirt and pulled the material so it felt to the floor with a soft thump, his fingers stroking over the smooth expanse of Harry’s back and chest. Harry tugged Zayn’s black t-shirt off and pressed their chests together, craving skin-on-skin. When they were both naked they moved over until Zayn could lay Harry out on the bed, kissing down his body and sucking a bruise into his hip to Harry’s soft moans. The Weeknd sang in his ear about being his Enemy, and Harry almost couldn’t stand how much the words fit the situation.
His fingers were gentle inside Harry as they prepped him in the way that he’d taught Zayn weeks ago, his lips soft and wet on Harry’s shoulder. Harry clung to Zayn’s back, pushing his head back into the pillow and his hips down into the mattress and further onto Zayn’s fingers. Their bodies were twisting against each other, damp with sweat, kiss swollen lips parted and gasping. Zayn pulled his fingers out and carefully lubed then lined his length up with Harry’s opening, pushing in slow and intense. When he was in as far as he could, he pressed his forehead against Harry’s and they looked into each other’s eyes, the moment delicate and terrifying. Zayn leant down to kiss the tip of Harry’s nose and though he thought it was impossible, he managed to melt even more. Harry raised his hand and stroked Zayn’s jaw before pulling him down for a thorough kiss.
“Move,” Harry whispered into his mouth and Zayn’s hips pulled back and then pushed straight back in, making Harry whimper and arch his back. Zayn kept moving, his pace steady and firm, a relentless pressure that made Harry’s body tingle. Zayn reached a hand between them to start stroking Harry’s length in time to their movements and Harry knew he was screwed. He wasn’t going to last much longer, little ‘oh, oh, oh’s coming from his mouth with ever thrust into him. Zayn bit down on Harry’s shoulder then, at the juncture, and Harry whimpered and came without warning, his body shaking, his forehead creased in a frown as his mouth curved into an ‘o’. Zayn watched his face, his own flushed red with pleasure, and as Harry’s tremors subsided he took a deep breath before flipping them so he was on top of Zayn, and he began to move his hips, grinding down onto Zayn. Zayn looked up at him almost desperately and Harry leant down to kiss him breathless, Zayn releasing a moan into his mouth as his climaxed, his hands bruisingly tight on Harry’s hips and arse. Harry cuddled down into Zayn as his lover's body trembled with aftershocks, and he kissed Zayn’s neck gently.
When Zayn pulled out and Harry felt things . . . dripping, he scrunched up his face and reluctantly left the bed, wandering off to the bathroom to clean himself off, bringing back a flannel to clean Zayn off with. When he was done Harry threw the damp material on the floor and snuggled into Zayn’s side with a sigh, Zayn’s warm arms wrapping around him and holding on tight, so tight that Harry realised Zayn was afraid.
“I’m not asking you to come out, Zayn,” Harry murmured, kissing the skin in front of his lips, which happened to be Zayn’s chest, right on the edge of one of the angel wings inked there.
“Then what are you asking?” Zayn breathed, his voice shaky even though it was obvious he was trying to hide it.
“For you to be honest to at least me, and . . . If you still want to see other people, then we can’t keep seeing each other like this. I can’t- I can’t share you, ok?” Harry admitted, feeling nervous of admitting this to Zayn, didn’t want to freak him out. Zayn was quiet for a few minutes and Harry waited uncertainly.
“I don’t want to see anyone else. But I just . . . I can’t c-come out, yeah? I just . . . That’s too much,” Zayn forced out, and Harry leant up on Zayn’s chest to press a soft kiss to his lips.
“I just . . . Hear me out, ok? I just think we should maybe tell Louis and Marcel,” Harry suggested carefully and Zayn’s face showed open panic, one hand coming up to rub at his lower lip.
“I- I dunno,” Zayn whispered and Harry kissed the end of his nose gently.
“They’d just figure it out anyway. I think that at least if we told them then we control how they find out and then they’re less likely to freak out over it. No one else has to know, Zayn, this is yours to decide, I just think that those two need to know, and I don’t really wanna lie to my brother. I don’t give a shit about Lou, he lies to me all the bloody time, the little shit,” Harry smiled and that at least made Zayn chuckle, even if it was a weak one.
“Y-yeah, ok. Louis and your brother. Yeah,” Zayn finally agreed and Harry leaned down to kiss him softly, coaxing him to relax, pressing tender kisses to his nose and eye lids before laying down and stroking his fingertips up and down Zayn’s chest until he heard his breaths even out as he fell asleep.
But Zayn wasn’t quite asleep yet.
“You owe me a tenner,” Zayn murmured and Harry smothered his laugh against Zayn’s skin, and Zayn finally drifted off, a grin on his pouty lips. Harry then let himself grin, let himself react to what had happened tonight. He felt hopeful, and he knew that that was stupid, that it was a little naive, but he really wanted this to work out. When Harry finally let himself fall asleep, there was a soft grin still lingering on his lips, and a lightness to his heart that he hadn’t felt since he was 14 and had his first real crush.
Notes:
Hope you liked it! by the way the picture Niall was taking the mick out of is this one- https://www.google.co.uk/search?q=robert+louis+stevenson+and+his+wife&tbm=isch&tbo=u&source=univ&sa=X&ei=l08KUr-TPIWN0wX9-oEg&ved=0CC8QsAQ&biw=1227&bih=502#facrc=_&imgrc=s9eOqDhU36LbiM%3A%3BTbP-rXIogH1ASM%3Bhttp%253A%252F%252Fwww.jssgallery.org%252Fpaintings%252F10173.jpg%3Bhttp%253A%252F%252Fwww.jssgallery.org%252Fpaintings%252Frobert_louis_stevenson_and_his_wife.htm%3B800%3B661 It's Robert Louis Stevenson and his wife who is sat in the chair covered in a scarf and in one of my lectures at uni me and my mate were crying with laughter because i accidentally blurted out "Is that a dementor?" when the photo came on the slide show. My lecturer was NOT happy with me. anywaaaaaaay PLEASE PLEASE comment haha, your comments are always lovely :) and as always, my tumblr is http://thedeliciousrude.tumblr.com/ if you just wanna chat or want tpo send me a prompt :) xxx
Chapter 7: Maybe There's A Shark In The Water
Notes:
Hi guys :) sorry I haven't updated in a little bit, I've just been stressing since my second year of uni starts soon and I have a shit ton of reading to do :/ meh. Anyway, your comments have really cheered me up these past few days and I love you guys loads, there's a bit of a change in POV for this one and I hope you enjoy this chapter! <3
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
LOUIS’ POV
When Louis arrived at the club that Wednesday, Zayn following sulkily behind him, he couldn’t help the smile that stretched his lips. Marcel was like this ball of light and he liked the way he lit up all of his dark corners, the recesses of his mind that he knows are a little fucked up. Marcel makes him feel like a person by just standing near him.
Louis isn’t going to lie, though. At the end of the day, he’s not a great person, he’s actually kind of an arsehole, but something about Marcel makes him wary, makes him cautious of his usual attitude. He just wants to make him smile, and that was a strange thought for a guy like Louis.
When they made it over to where Marcel, Harry, Niall, and Liam were standing, Louis hugged Harry and greeted the others but his eyes were glued to Marcel’s. Marcel smiled softly when he made his way over, Louis sliding his hand onto the small of Marcel’s back.
“You look gorgeous, baby. You wanna go dance?” He whispered in Marcel’s ear, making him blush and nod shyly. Louis took his hand and led him out onto the dance floor. Louis’ typical style is to get himself and whatever lad he’s with spectacularly drunk and to grind on the dance floor until they decided to head home to fuck. Instead he hasn’t even bothered to get a drink, he and Marcel have yet to do anything more than Louis giving him a blowjob, and Louis blatantly ignores the fast beat of the song to instead pull Marcel close and sway their bodies together.
“You look nice too,” Marcel murmured and Louis grinned widely in response. To get Marcel to have the courage to offer a compliment is a big thing and hell yes Louis felt smug about it.
“Not as good as you in those jeans. I think you should just steal them from your brother, you look better in them anyway,” Louis said with a wink and Marcel let out a loud laugh that surprised even himself, making him blush and hide his face in Louis’ neck. Louis felt a surge of arousal at the feel of Marcel’s smiling lips against his neck, but he quelled it, knowing Marcel wasn’t doing it intentionally.
Louis felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see Nick, one of his kind-of-friends who he’d slept with a few times out of boredom. Nick grinned at him but his eyes were a little shifty on Marcel.
“Hey Lou! Who’s your friend?” Nick asked, running a hand through his poofy brown hair.
“Hey, this is Marcel, Harry Styles' younger brother,” Louis said and Nick nodded in recognition, he’d known Harry had a younger brother but like Louis he’d never met him either. Marcel was still tucked into Louis’ side and he looked at Nick warily, his face filled with obvious nerves, but he had a small smile on his lips anyway. Louis didn’t like when he got nervous so leaned in to kiss the tip of his nose, it made him smile so wide his dimples showed and he heard Nick whistle in appreciation.
“Was that family built in a lab? Not fair that they seem to have a bottomless well of pretty genes,” Nick commented and Marcel’s smile faded as an embarrassed blush stole over his pale skin.
“Shut up, Nick,” Louis said casually, but Nick heard the faint thread of threat below it and he nodded slightly in acknowledgment.
“Anyway, I came over to let you know Markus is looking for you,” Nick said and Louis felt an uncomfortable prickling feeling go over his spine. He wanted Markus nowhere near Marcel, so he decided Nick would have to be the lesser of two evils. Louis turned to face Marcel, looking up into his confused green eyes.
“I need to go talk to someone for a minute, okay? I’ll be back as quick as I can, will you be okay with Nick?” Louis asked gently, trying to make his gaze reassuring. Marcel was obviously panicking about being left alone but Louis couldn’t compromise on this. Marcel nodded reluctantly and Louis leaned up to kiss his cheek before heading off to the back room of the club where he figured Markus would be hanging out.
He walked through clouds of weed smoke, past drunken couples lounging about, until he spotted Markus. Markus was a bit of a knob, but one that you didn’t want to cross. He was a lot taller than Louis, pale skin covered in so many tattoos that there was barely a patch left un-inked. He was muscled but no more so than Louis, with dark hair that flopped over his forehead in an emo-ish style that Louis personally though had gone out of style 3 years ago. It wasn’t that Markus was physically intimidating; it was his connections you had to worry about. His dad was a criminal and it was known that Markus followed in his daddy’s footsteps, almost the family business. You played nice with him or you ended up bruised and bloody in a field somewhere, lucky if you don’t have to get a cast or surgery for internal bleeding. Louis had been there, done that, and he and Markus had a bit of a deal at the moment. Thing is, Louis worried Markus because he wasn’t afraid to take a beating, and he wasn’t afraid to kick the shit out of Markus.
“What’s up, pal?” Markus called from where he was surrounded by girls on the couch, and Louis smirked. Markus made a big deal about how straight he was but he’d definitely enjoyed shagging Louis those 2 times, and the way Markus always kind of focussed on his mouth made it clear he’d enjoyed being sucked off by Louis, too.
“Nothing much, but I am on a date, so what do you want?” Louis asked calmly, no heat in his voice. He didn’t want to antagonise Markus by sounding insolent, he couldn’t be arsed with the drama tonight. Not when he had a beautiful, blushing boy waiting on the dance floor for him.
“I need a favour,” Markus grinned and Louis sighed tiredly, knowing this wouldn’t be good.
***
When he wandered back out onto the dance floor, craning his head to find Marcel, he instead caught sight of Zayn and Harry dancing. This shouldn’t have been strange but there was something about it. They were moving together in a way that didn’t say they were having a laugh. It said they wanted to fuck, in Louis’ experienced opinion. Louis knew that that was probably not the case, since Zayn’s as straight as a fucking ruler and sometimes kinda obnoxious about it, but the two of them had been acting weird lately. Louis kept glancing back at them as he searched for Marcel, and when he turned his head to look again, his mouth dropped open in shock; Zayn had just dragged Harry in for a pretty fucking hot snog, and Harry sure wasn’t protesting. When they broke apart it looked like they were having a pretty intense conversation, but Harry turned his back to grind back onto Zayn and Louis almost laughed out loud at the look of desperate need on Zayn’s face in response.
Seconds later it seems they’d come to some kind of impasse because Zayn randomly grabbed Harry’s arm and led him out from the club. Well, those two had some explaining to do.
Louis pushed his two secretive little friends to the back of his mind and continued his search for Marcel, starting to get a little worried since it’s not like Marcel is tiny. Usually he’s easy to spot since he’s a head above the rest of the crowd.
It was a stray strobe light that helped him out, it caught on Marcel’s glasses, a flash of refelected light that randomly caught his attention. He turned and managed to spot where Marcel was slumped on a chair, Nick nowhere in sight.
Louis pushed his way through the crowd, staring down some dick who took offense to being pushed but backed down when Louis glared at him. He went to his knees in front of Marcel and cupped his jaw worriedly, Marcel looking up into his eyes with a dazed, tired expression, eyes heavy and unfocused.
“What’s wrong, baby? Where did Nick go?” Louis asked quickly, using a hand to push Marcel’s hair back from where it had fallen over his face.
“Dunno,” Marcel mumbled and Louis got really worried then. This wasn’t right. He helped Marcel up, practically carrying him out of the club. Louis bundled him into a taxi without thinking, all he wanted right now was to get the hell away from Markus and that club and whatever was affecting Marcel. When they got to his home he gently undressed Marcel and pulled him into the shower, hoping the spray would snap him out of it, but instead his legs gave out and he slumped to the bottom instead. Louis had the suspicion that someone had spiked him, and a big part of him was screaming that Nick had done it for a laugh. It wouldn’t be the first time.
Louis picked Marcel up and wrapped him in one of his huge towels. He sat them down on the bathroom floor so Marcel’s back was against his chest.
“Baby?” Louis murmured, kissing Marcel’s temple softly, idly noticing that as Marcel’s wet hair started to dry, it had a kink that promised curls. Louis felt a fond smile tug at his lips at the thought of Marcel having little curls, but sternly told himself to stop being such a pussy and deal with the situation at hand instead of mooning over how pretty Marcel is. “What did you do when I left you with Nick?”
“He was weird. Don’t like ‘im,” Marcel mumbled and Louis bit his lip to stop his chuckle at that.
“Did he give you anything to drink?” Louis asked, stroking any part of Marcel he could reach, telling himself he was just comforting Marcel, not reassuring himself that Marcel wasn’t hurt.
“Why did he say you two shagged? Why would you shag him? He’s old,” Marcel said, his voice sounding young and disgusted and Louis rolled his eyes.
“Few drunken mistakes, Dimples,” Louis responded, realising he wasn’t gonna get the truth out of Marcel when he was like this, he could barely hold his own head up, never mind answer Louis’ questions. “Come on, baby. Time for bed,” Louis said, standing up to drag Marcel up from the floor and basically carrying him into the bedroom. Louis laid him down and tucked him into the covers, marvelling at how different he felt with Marcel. Before he’d have dropped the guy off at his own house and washed his hands of him, deciding it wasn’t his problem to deal with, but Louis felt so ridiculously protective of this lanky little dork. Although he wasn’t that little compared to Louis, but somehow Louis always felt bigger than him anyway, and maybe that had something to do with confidence.
Louis tucked the covers around Marcel and the younger boy looked up at him through bleary eyes, his glasses on the nightstand.
“Lou?” Marcel murmured, his lips pink and soft-looking, so Louis leaned down to peck them gently.
“Yeah?” He sighed, wandering away to get rid of his clothes so he was only in his boxers.
“Can we cuddle?” Marcel’s voice was small and soft, barely a whisper, and Louis practically melted. If someone had told him a few weeks ago that he’d get so attached to this nerdy, puppy of a human, he’d have beat the shit out of them and laughed in their face.
Louis silently padded over to the bed, turning off the light before slipping under the covers. Marcel immediately slid over and curled into his side and Louis smiled into his hair. He managed to poke and prod Marcel until he was facing away and Louis could then spoon him, tucking his face between Marcel’s shoulders, and feeling more comfortable than he had in a long time. Before he fell asleep he managed to send a quick text to Harry telling him what had happened but that Marcel was ok and with him, and when Harry didn’t text back Louis remembered the scene he’d witnessed between him and Zayn and grinned sharply before sending off another text;
‘You two are fucking and didn’t tell me, I’m so insulted right now, I could’ve given you pointers!’
He fell asleep with a smile still tugging at his lips, and Marcel’s sleep-warm body against his, he could get used to this.
HARRY’S POV
Harry awoke to the feel of warm skin beneath his cheek and smiled sleepily. He lifted his head and noticed that Zayn was awake and playing on his phone, but put it down and grinned when he saw Harry was awake. Harry leant up to give Zayn a quick, closed-mouth kiss, wrinkling up his nose and pulling away when Zayn tried to deepen it.
“Morning breath, and waaay too many germs in our mouths before we’ve brushed,” Harry said with a disgusted expression and Zayn chuckled huskily.
“You’re such a freak,” Zayn replied, but his face was affectionate. Harry leant down and nipped at Zayn’s shoulder with his teeth in punishment and Zayn pushed him off and rolled them over so he was above Harry.
“We’re not having sex, I’m bloody sore from last night,” Harry said haughtily, causing Zayn to laugh again.
“Who says I wanna fuck your arse? Maybe it’s your mouth instead?” Zayn said cheekily and maybe it had been a joke but all of Harry’s breath left him at that mental image and he looked up at Zayn with glassy eyes and parted lips. “Fuck, Haz, we’re definitely doing that at some point if it makes you pull that face,” Zayn replied breathlessly, eyes hungry as they take in Harry’s wrecked expression. Harry cleared his throat and blushed in embarrassment, reaching over to grab his phone from the nightstand. He had two messages from Louis and he frowned worriedly before opening them. When he opened the first he sat up so fast that he knocked Zayn off-balance and had to catch him so he didn’t fall off of the bed. The second message made him groan in embarrassment but the first one had him seriously worried.
“Marcel was spiked last night,” Harry explained when Zayn looked at him in confusion.
“Shit, where is he?” Zayn asked, slipping out of the bed and starting to get dressed, throwing Harry his clothes.
“Louis’ house. He says that he’s okay now, he was just messed up at first. And . .. erm . . .” Harry trailed off, unsure how to carry on. Zayn came over and placed his hands on Harry’s bare hips, they were both only dressed in their jeans, their skin contrasting nicely.
“What is it?” Zayn asked, lifting a hand to stroke Harry’s cheekbone.
“Louis knows,” Harry murmured and when Zayn still looked lost Harry took a deep breath. “He knows about us sleeping together.”
“Shit.” Was all Zayn said, his eyes wide.
“It’s ok. If you want . . . If you really want then we can say it was a one night thing, that you were just really drunk and it was an accident,” Harry forced out, his chest tight with pain, but he had to do this. He couldn’t force Zayn to tell people about him or about his own sexuality.
“N-no, that . . . I can’t do that to you, Harry. I’m fucking terrified, but you’re worth more than that,” Zayn replied and Harry felt close to tears with how relieved he felt. Harry moved forwards to rest his forehead against Zayn’s shoulder and Zayn wrapped his arms around Harry’s wide back, holding him close, both of them taking comfort from the others’ touch.
***
When they arrived at Louis’, a rumpled, tired-looking Louis answered the door and motioned them towards the bedroom. They entered to find Marcel curled up in the bed sheets, looking tiny and peaceful, and it settled something inside of Harry, so when Louis motioned that they leave Marcel to sleep, he actually listened.
“He seems okay now, I think that whatever they spiked him with, either they didn’t dose enough, or he didn’t drink the whole thing,” Louis said as he sat on the couch, scrubbing a hand over his face. Louis was dressed in only a pair of grey sweat pants that had obviously just been thrown on and
Harry didn’t need the mental image of him sleeping naked with his brother so he resigned himself to the situation.
“So how do you know about . . .” Harry gestured between him and Zayn, trying to keep his expression calm, but Zayn couldn’t hide his panic, his face filled with it, and he couldn’t stop fidgeting. Louis saw Zayn’s reaction and it was like Harry could literally see Louis making the decision not to take the piss since Zayn was so afraid.
“I saw you guys at the club, and even before you kissed it was obvious something was going on. How long?” Louis asked calmly, reaching forwards to pick up his mug of tea. Harry glanced at Zayn’s face to make sure it was okay before he answered, Zayn nodded mutely, his face a little pale. Harry held his hand out, offering comfort but expecting Zayn to refuse it in front of Louis but to Harry’s surprised he took his hand and clasped it tight in his lap.
“I dunno, maybe 10/11 months ago. A couple months after Marcel left for my dad’s house,” Harry answered and Louis looked at them blankly for a second.
“I can’t believe I never figured that out,” Louis looked so insulted that even Zayn let out a weak laugh.
“It only happened during storms, so it wasn’t all that often,” Harry tried to placate him but Louis looked at him in shock for some reason.
“Do you have like a storm fetish or something?” Louis asked, and his eyes gleamed in interest, kinky bastard.
“The opposite, you dickhead. I’m afraid of bad weather, storms and stuff. Zayn came over to help me and, well, yeah,” Harry finished lamely, blushing a little, trying to hide the happy smile on his lips.
“So are you a couple or . . ?” Louis asked, looking from either of them and back again.
“I erm, I dunno . . .” Harry replied nervously, he didn’t want to frighten Zayn since they hadn’t actually had a real conversation about what they are.
“We’re exclusive, but no labels,” Zayn suddenly said, his voice small, and Harry looked at him with a soft expression, stupidly happy that Zayn had just said that.
“Fair enough,” Louis replied then went back to drinking his tea.
“So . . . what do you think about me maybe being . . .” Zayn couldn’t finish the sentence but Louis laughed in understanding.
“Must be something in the water. Seems we’re all gonna be a big gay family!” Louis said emphatically, batting his eyelashes dramatically.
“Shut the fuck up, Lou,” Zayn snapped, blushing bright red, but Harry could tell he was happy that Louis wasn’t making a big deal out of it. Louis just seemed bothered that he hadn’t known that the two of them were sleeping together. Zayn was just throwing a pillow at Louis’ head when Marcel wandered out into the living room dressed in only his boxers. He still had his eyes closed and was rubbing sleepily at his face, but when he opened his eyes and saw all o
f them he made a loud squawk and turned to run back into the bedroom but obviously he was still a little affected by the drug and just generally uncoordinated because he hit the door frame and went down in a tangle of limbs. Marcel lay groaning on the floor, one hand pressed to his no doubt pounding forehead and Harry laughed so hard he cried.
“You okay, baby brother?” Harry chuckled out as Louis walked over and gently helped Marcel stand. Louis wrapped his younger brother in the blanket from the back of the couch and when Louis sat back on his chair, Marcel curled up against his side, almost in his lap. That action alone made Harry stop laughing. “Your head hurt?” Harry asked softly.
“Yeah, and my body feels like lead,” Marcel replied, his voice so scratchy that Zayn winced in sympathy. Louis silently handed Marcel his cup of tea so he could sooth his throat and Marcel took it with a weak smile of thanks.
“So what happened?” Zayn asked, relaxing now that the spotlight is off of him. Harry decided that since Louis knows and he’s gonna tell Marcel anyway, it doesn’t matter if he touches Zayn in front of them now. Harry leaned over and cuddled into Zayn’s side and after a nervous hesitation, Zayn wrapped his arm around Harry’s shoulders and pulled him close.
“I don’t know. Louis was gone and that weird Nick guy kept smiling at me funny. And he was saying all this stuff trying to get to me and I was trying not react, I really was, but then he started saying . . .” Marcel glanced at Louis nervously.
“What did he say to you?” Louis snapped, face filled with anger and Marcel cringed back. Louis immediately calmed himself, at least on the outside, and Harry felt so grateful to Louis in that moment, for knowing how to act with his brother. “What did he say, baby?” Louis asked again, but his voice was gentle, and his hand came up to stroke Marcel’s cheek.
“He said I wouldn’t hold your interest long, that you don’t stay with boys, especially ones as boring as me,” Marcel mumbled looking at the floor.
“That’s absolute bullshit. Look, I was a dick and a bit of a slut, but you are so, so different to all of that. I’m not going to mess you about, Dimples, you’re far too pretty for that,” Louis smiled as he held Marcel’s cheek, leaning forwards to kiss him softly on the lips, and Harry felt mesmerised. It was so strange seeing Marcel so relaxed, so comfortable and happy, even though he was suffering from one hell of a hangover.
“He said he felt bad after he made me a little upset, and he gave me a drink to say sorry-” Marcel was cut off by the groan Harry let out and Marcel looked at his frustrated face with an earnest expression, “I really wasn’t gonna drink it, Harry, promise! I really, really wasn’t, but he was so weird about it. I put it down on a table and he picked it up and told me it was really rude to waste a drink someone had bought for you, and I was really nervous and scared and he kept pushing so I drank some of it. As soon as he turned around I poured the other half on the floor,” Marcel explained, and he looked so nervous and upset that Harry sighed.
“Ok, I get it. At least you tried to be smart about it. But you need to learn not to give in, Marcel. If you’d have drank it all then who knows what could have happened to you,” Harry said firmly and Marcel nodded, his face soft and sad, so young looking that Harry felt a fresh wave of terrified protectiveness. “And you shouldn’t have left him alone with that creep,” Harry snapped at Louis, knowing it was mean but he couldn’t help it, someone had tried to hurt his baby brother.
“I had no choice, Nick was the lesser of two evils,” Lois replied, scrubbing hand down his face frustratedly.
“Who the hell did you have to talk to that bad?” Zayn demanded, and Harry squeezed his thigh in thanks for backing him up on this.
“Seriously? Just because you’re a couple now means I should expect you two ganging up on me?” Louis said snarkily, cocking an eyebrow.
“Who’s Markus?” Marcel said softly, and Harry and Zayn glared and Louis. Marcel looked around confused before realising he’d just dobbed Louis in, “Sorry,” He said sadly to Louis and Louis just sighed and kissed his cheek in acceptance.
“What the fuck are you talking to Markus for?” Harry snapped, frowning at his friend.
“None of your business. I’m not bugging you about you and Zayn so you can both get your noses out of my fucking business,” Louis replied caustically as Zayn blushed hard.
“You and Zayn?” Marcel asked with wide eyes, and it really was a testament to Marcel’s innocence that he had seen nothing more than friendship in his and Zayn’s current embrace, also probably testament to his banging hangover.
“Yeah,” Harry replied softly and Marcel searched his face for a moment before nodding silently, but Harry did notice him shoot a sneaky glare at Zayn when the lad wasn’t looking.
“We’ll not bother you about the Markus thing as long as you promise us you aren’t in any danger,” Zayn said finally, and Louis locked stares with Zayn for a moment before sighing.
“I’ll be fine, guys,” He said finally, and as Harry looked into his eyes he realised that Louis was lying, and as he looked at his little brother’s face he realised Marcel was falling in love with him, and those two factors put together were a recipe for trouble and Harry wasn’t sure if they’d all make it through in one piece.
Notes:
By the way this is actually inspired by true events, few nights ago i went out drinking and my best friend Dylan a.k.a 'Dildo' got spiked :( proper scary times.
Anyway please comment! you guys are the only things that keep me writing this so i need them aha :) and as always if you wanna have a chat or give me a prompt them my tumblr is http://thedeliciousrude.tumblr.com/ xXx
Chapter 8: How Do You Want Me?
Notes:
This is a little shorter than usual so i apologise for that! But there's quite a bit of drama so hopefully that makes up for it :) hope you enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
MARCEL’S POV
Marcel started to notice a change in Louis after the night he got spiked. He was more protective, maybe even a little controlling, but Marcel couldn’t say that he disliked it. And Louis’ protective streak always seemed to flare up after he’d go to meet some of his friends, the ones that Louis claimed weren’t nice enough people for him to introduce to Marcel. To be honest, Marcel was a little afraid. Louis would come see him after hanging out with those friends and he’d look tired, edgy, and even a little angry, and he’d kiss Marcel like it was their last kiss, like he didn’t know if he’d get another chance. But despite his increased dominance, Louis hadn’t even brought up the whole sex issue.
Marcel didn’t really know if he was ready for sex, but at the same time he knew he couldn’t put it off forever. A little part of him was afraid that Louis would get bored and leave if he didn’t, and he knew that he was being stupid, but he couldn’t help but obsess over it. So when Louis asked him to come hang out at his that night, and Marcel’s mum being fine with it since it’s a Saturday, Marcel said yes with a trembling voice as he made a silent vow to himself that he’d try tonight.
When Marcel got into the house he realised straight away that Louis had just been with his friends, it was in the tense set of his shoulders, and Marcel knew it was worse than usual because Louis didn’t even kiss him hello, just gave him a weak smile and closed the door behind him after Marcel hesitantly stepped in.
“Hey,” Marcel said, his voice soft and small, nerves making his fingers tremble so he clasped his hands together.
“Hi, Dimples,” Louis said with a smirk, but it was tired and it wasn’t his best effort. Marcel took a deep breath and decided to try breaking the awkward tension, even if he wasn’t confident enough to try kissing Louis into a good mood. Marcel wandered into the living room and curled up on the couch as if he was perfectly relaxed, and Louis followed him to sit beside him, but he left a gap between them that made Marcel ache with anxiety. He didn’t know if maybe Louis’ friends had convinced him that Marcel wasn’t good enough for him, maybe that would explain why he always acted so weird with him after seeing them.
“How was your day?” Marcel forced out in a mock cheerful tone.
“Uneventful,” Louis shrugged, and Marcel frowned because it was a poorly hidden lie, Louis hadn’t even bothered to change his troubled expression.
“Do you wanna talk about what’s upsetting you?” Marcel murmured timidly, reaching a shaking hand between them to touch Louis’ knee, terrified that any second Louis would throw off his touch.
“Nah, it’s nothing you need to worry about,” Louis said and Marcel just couldn’t take this awkward dance anymore. He sat up and leaned over to kiss Louis’ cheek but Louis purposefully moved so their lips collided. The kiss was deep and fast from the second their lips touched, Marcel desperate for some kind of affection and reassurance, and Louis working out whatever was plaguing him. Louis’ hand came up to clasp the back of Marcel’s neck and Marcel took it as encouragement and scooted over on his knees to straddle Louis’ lap. Marcel’s fingers trembled as they headed down to Louis’ zip and he pulled it down carefully, gasping in breaths as Louis’ lips headed down his neck.
“Where is that hand heading, Dimples?” Louis purred into his ear and Marcel shuddered against him.
“I wanna . .. erm,” Marcel really didn’t know how to finish that sentence so ducked his head into Louis’ neck to hide as his hand slid under Louis’ boxers to wrap around his half-hard length.
“What do you want?” Louis asked softly, threading fingers into the back of Marcel’s hair and pulling firmly so Marcel had no choice but to look at him. These demanding, dominant actions were another product of Louis’ strange behaviour lately, and Marcel didn’t want to admit how it gave him butterflies.
“Y-you?” Marcel answered uncertainly, looking into Louis’ eyes desperately.
“How do you want me?” Louis murmured, leaning in to nip Marcel’s chin with his teeth, before licking over the small hurt, and Marcel swallowed thickly.
“All the way,” Marcel whispered and there was a frozen second where neither of them even took a breath before Louis groaned and leaned in to kiss Marcel so strongly that he was almost pushed backwards off of Louis’ lap.
“No,” Louis whispered into his mouth and Marcel froze again, unsure if he’d heard that correctly.
“W-what?” Marcel stuttered out brokenly, then suddenly felt hot all over with a powerful wave of humiliation. He’d just practically given Louis full access and Louis had shot him down. He pulled away and his eyes looked everywhere in the room, unable to settle on one spot as he fought with all his strength not to let himself cry.
“No, not like that, baby,” Louis said, grabbing his chin and forcing Marcel to look at him. “I just don’t think now is the right time, okay?”
“B-but, why?” Marcel asked, still holding back his tears, his throat tight and causing his voice to be husky and even deeper than usual.
“I’m . . . in a situation right now that isn’t something you wanna get mixed up in, and we shouldn’t get too serious while I’m still in it,” Louis explained, his face serious but his eyes were a little shifty, and Marcel felt unfamiliar anger build in the pit of his stomach.
“Bullshit,” He burst out, shocking himself, but he didn’t let it ruin his momentum, “You used to shag everyone, left right and centre, so why is it suddenly so serious if you shag me?”
“Don’t you dare compare this to a casual shag. You know too fucking well that this is different for me,” Louis snapped, his hand tight on Marcel’s jaw.
“I don’t know that, though! All I know is that you don’t want to sleep with me and . . . and . . .” and that was it, Marcel’s tears leaked out as his voice cracked on the last word. Louis sighed and yanked Marcel close but Marcel felt angry and stupid and sad so he fought the hold, sitting up and crossing his arms with a pout as his tears leaked out against his wishes. Louis’ face sparked again and he grasped Marcel’s jaw again, the other hand on the back of his neck, holding him firmly, a show of dominance.
“Don’t fight me, Dimples,” Louis warned, and Marcel stayed stubbornly still for a second before caving in and leaning forwards into Louis’ chest. Louis let him move easily, wrapping his arms around Marcel’s back and holding him tight.
“Am I not attractive enough?” Marcel whispered, terrified of the answer but also needing to ask, hoping that Louis wasn’t just staying with him out of pity or out of loyalty to his brother.
“For fuck’s sake, baby. You’re so pretty it hurts. When I saw you smile that first time, all I could think was that I had to be the reason for that smile or it’d kill me,” Louis said, his voice almost pained and Marcel snuffled softly, cuddling deeper onto Louis’ t-shirt. “I’m in a bad situation, baby, and I just . . . I can’t risk you getting hurt, okay?”
“I don’t really understand, but okay,” Marcel whispered and he felt a soft kiss being pressed to his temple and he smile softly into the tear-damp fabric.
“Look, let’s watch a movie and cuddle under blankets, yeah? We’ll just forget about all this and have a nice night,” Louis suggested softly, stroking his hand up and down Marcel’s back. Marcel nodded and shuffled off of Louis’ lap to wander over to the shelves that held Louis’ impressive DVD collection.
“What do you wanna watch?” Marcel asked softly and Louis came to stand just behind him to wrap his arms around Marcel’s back, eyes searching the collection over Marcel’s shoulder. Louis leaned forwards and pulled out a DVD.
“The Longest Yard,” Louis declared and Marcel frowned, sticking out his tongue playfully. He snatched it from Louis’ fingers.
“Nope, that’s boring, I don’t wanna watch it,” Marcel replied and Louis snatched it back.
“I’m older so I get to decide,” Louis smirked and Marcel snatched the DVD back and held it high above his head.
“Well I’m taller,” He declared triumphantly and giggled when Louis attempted to make him drop it by tickling him, but Marcel endured the torture, stubborn about this. Louis stopped and looked at him with a sly expression and Marcel gazed at him warily, waiting for Louis’ next move. Louis ducked forwards, hands clasping behind Marcel’s thighs and pulling up so his legs were around Louis’ waist, and Marcel had to drop the DVD’s in a mad flail to grab Louis’ neck to stop him falling over, Louis smirked in victory.
“Well I’m stronger,” He whispered against Marcel’s open, gasping mouth, looking into Marcel’s wide green eyes with a gaze that sparkled with mirth. Louis leant forwards to press a soft, teasing kiss against his lips and a breathy moan, barely a whisper, escaped Marcel’s lips. He felt Louis’ responding grin against his mouth before Louis deepened the kiss, Marcel still held firm in Louis’ hands. Louis moved them back so Marcel’s back was against the DVD shelves, each shelve a point of pressure against his spine, and Louis began to rotate his hips against Marcel’s. Marcel shuddered and timidly moved in response and Louis just kept grinding and kissing him and Marcel started to lose all brain power as their crotches pushed together over and over. His arm flung out and grabbed the shelf, knocking a few DVD’s to the floor, but he was too busy surrendering to Louis’ actions to care about the mess. When Marcel involuntarily whimpered Louis began to move harder and faster and it wasn’t long before his vision flashed white and his body tensed.
When Louis was done he pulled back, letting Marcel’s shaky legs drop from his hips and smirked as he leant down to pick up The Longest Yard and slipped it into the DVD player as Marcel watched with wide eyes, gasping and trembling against the book case.
ZAYN’S POV
He and Harry were so strange, in his mind. He’d never in a million years thought that they’d have ended up in this weird kind-of relationship. But he liked it, and that terrified him.
He didn’t know how to handle it. He’d tried distancing himself from Harry, had tried to date a girl he’d thought was attractive, but none of it had worked. There was just something about Harry that pulled him in by the throat. It really wasn’t his fault that he didn’t just go meekly, that he needs to kick and scream and rile against it every now and then. And that’s what this was.
Zayn had gone to this club with no real knowledge as to why he’d felt the need, or why he’d decided to tell Harry that he couldn’t come over tonight because he was at his mum’s house visiting her, and his sisters.
Now he was sat on a bar stool, drinking as fast as he could and half terrified to make eye contact with anyone. But it didn’t seem to matter because seconds later a hand tapped his shoulder. He turned and met the eyes of a pretty red head.
“Hey, I’m Sammy,” The girl said, sliding up next to him.
“Hey, I’m Zayn,” He said politely, and he doesn’t know how it happened but ten minutes later she was holding his hand and tugging him into a public bathroom stall, her eyes filled with want, and his chest tight with a pain he didn’t want to dissect.
HARRY’S POV
Harry was flicking through Facebook and when someone from university began uploading pictures as they took them, Harry glanced at them boredly, wishing Zayn would have come over. He could be having sex right now but instead he’s on Facebook looking at posts from losers who literally have nothing better to do than post on shitty Facebook on a Saturday night about their relationship drama. He was glancing at some pictures from the guy’s night at some club, when he recognised someone in the background. And if he wasn’t mistaken, then that was Zayn.
Harry zoomed into the picture a thousand times and told himself not to freak out, but this was pretty fucking shady. Zayn hadn’t gone to his mum’s then. Harry flicked through all the pictures but there were no more that caught Zayn, so he saved the one that did to his phone, and shut down the app.
Harry sat in silence, staring at his bedroom wall for maybe 15 minutes, his mind racing with all kinds of situations that would make Zayn innocent of any wrong doing, but a very loud, snarky voice in his mind was shouting at him to stop being so stupid and face the facts, and it sounded suspiciously like Louis’ voice.
Harry knew Marcel was over there but made a split second decision to ring Louis’ mobile, glancing at the clock as it rang, seeing that it was actually 2am.
“Why the fuck are you ringing me right now?” Louis asked sleepily down the phone and Harry was pretty sure he heard Marcel’s sleepy voice in the background.
“Zayn lied to me. He said he was going to his mum’s tonight. But he’s out at some club,” Harry said, his throat tight.
“Shit. How do you know?” Louis asked, his voice sounding genuinely upset at this, and that’s why Harry was friends with him. He might be a colossal wanker but he also cared a ridiculous amount about the people he let get close to him.
“He was in the background of some guy’s picture on Facebook,” Harry replied shakily and he heard Louis mutter ‘fuckin’ hate Facebook’ before he replied at a normal volume.
“You need to talk to him, but wait till morning. If he’s done anything then it’s not because he actually wanted to, Haz. You know as well as I do that he doesn’t handle emotional stress very well and this whole wanting to fuck you thing is probably messing his head up,” Louis said and Harry felt a wave of nausea, all of a sudden he was deadly sure that Zayn had gone to that club with the intention of reaffirming his straight-ness.
“I can’t be the one he experiments on, Louis. I just can’t. I’m way too fucking attached for this shit. He told me he was sure, that he was just scared to have other people know. I knew I shouldn’t have bloody believed him,” Harry sighed, he just felt tired. He felt no need to cry, it was like he’d subconsciously known this would happen.
“Just . . . Give him a chance to explain himself, Haz, okay? And if he has done something stupid then I’m gonna kick him in the bollocks for being a stupid twat,” Louis enthused and Harry gave a sad chuckle.
“Thanks for talking to me anyway, I’m gonna go to bed. I’ll murder Zayn in the morning when I’m fresh as a daisy,” Harry joked weakly and Louis laughed like a good sport before they said good night and Harry hung up.
Harry picked up his mobile as he snuggled under his covers, and he was feeling justified and vindictive, not a great combination, and it made him do something a little stupid.
‘Hey, how’re you? Long time no see :p xx’ he sent, and seconds later he got a reply.
‘Hell of a lot better now you’ve texted ;) xx’ Harry bit his lip before replying;
‘Wanna go for drinks maybe some dinner tomorrow?’ a swell of guilt pushed at his rib-cage but he told himself that he was allowed to do this.
‘Hell yeah ;p text me the details in the morning x’ Harry put his phone down on his bedside table and part of him regretted it, but the rest of him was angry. So Harry picked his phone back up.
‘Will do, sweetie. Can’t wait to see you ;) xx’ he sent before sliding under his covers and letting sleep take him under.
Notes:
As always, if you just wanna have a chat or want to send me a prompt then my tumblr is http://thedeliciousrude.tumblr.com/ :)
I'm going to Flamingo Land for a few days (wooo hooo!!) so that means i wont be able to update until i get back but i'll be able to answer comments and stuff :)
So yeah, please comment what you thought!
Chapter 9: I'll Set Fire To Our Bed
Notes:
So technically it's still Wednesday, even if it's late, so technically I've kept my promise and updated haha. This is kinda long so hopefully it makes up for me disappearing for a few days on a holiday that stupidly had no wifi (who the hell doesn't have wifi these days?) anyway, i hope you enjoy it! <3
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
HARRY’S POV
That Sunday morning Zayn didn’t text him, and in Harry’s mind that was a sign of guilt. So when it got close to 4pm, Harry sent another text;
‘Meet at that Italian place went to last time? 5-ish? xx’
And a reply came almost instantly;
‘sounds great, can’t wait to see you :p xx’
Harry felt a twinge in his chest but ignored it. If Zayn was going to go behind his back and do whatever he wants, then Harry was justified in doing the same. Harry had already gotten a text from Marcel saying he wouldn’t be home for a few hours, so he didn’t have to worry about telling him his plans. Harry dressed to impress, wearing his tightest black jeans with the leather knee patches, and a slinky maroon jumper that hugged his muscles and dipped low to show his collar bones and the tips of the sparrows on his chest. He styled his hair and slipped on his favourite black boots and on a burst of determination he’d left off his boxers, deciding to have a little fun with this. Maybe he just wanted to piss Zayn off, make him realise that Harry could go out and have anyone else he wanted, or maybe he was just so fucking hurt and he needed someone to tell him he’s attractive. Either way, Harry was going to make sure this night wouldn’t go unnoticed by anyone, especially Zayn.
MARCEL’S POV
His day with Louis had been going great, until Louis got a text and it seemed like there was a switch that flipped inside of him. He was quieter and wasn’t so quick to laugh, and eventually it just became too much for Marcel to ignore.
“What’s wrong?” Marcel asked from where he was seated on Louis’ kitchen counter, as Louis pottered around making them two cups of tea.
“Nothing, why?” Louis responded distractedly, and Marcel frowned.
“Why are you lying?” Marcel asked softly, face still frowning in annoyance.
“I’m not,” Louis insisted.
“You got a text and then you went all strange,” Marcel insisted.
“You’re an idiot, I’m fine. You worry way too much,” Louis said casually and Marcel felt the jab. His anxiety was a big flaw in his confidence and Louis knew that. But Marcel also knew that his anxiety had nothing to do with this.
“I’m not wrong. Why are you being so secretive?” Marcel hesitantly insisted, getting nervous now, feeling the oncoming of something bad.
“Why don’t you stop trying to know every bit of my business? I’m not your boyfriend, you know. You don’t have any say in my life,” Louis said it with such casual brutality that Marcel’s breath felt punched from his lungs. He sat in silence staring at Louis for a moment before silently slipping down from the counter and leaving the kitchen. Marcel tried to breathe as regularly as he could, but his chest was tight and he knew he was panicking but he couldn’t stop it. He packed his bag in Louis’ room and shouldered it. He left the flat without even seeing Louis again, as the older boy stayed in the kitchen, as if he honestly didn’t care if Marcel decided to leave.
Marcel shut the door behind him and started down the dark street, realising now how late it actually was, close to half past ten, the night sky dark and daunting. Louis hadn’t come after him, but it’s not like Marcel had even expected him to. The streets were pretty empty, but as Marcel turned down another road, he started to hear voices. His chest tightened but he told himself not to be stupid, that just because these guys were out late doesn’t mean that they mean him any harm. But when a group of five boys turned the corner and spotted him, Marcel’s heart raced with adrenaline. They started calling things at him but he kept his head down, determined not to pay them any attention, not wanting them to see it as a challenge. But it didn’t work.
“Hey there, bitch. What’re you doing out so late? Isn’t it past your bed time?” One of them crowed, his friends all chuckling in response, and then to Marcel’s horror, they crossed the road and started wandering along behind him.
“Oi, you ignoring me, bruv?” One of them called out and Marcel didn’t know what to do, so he tried walking a little faster.
“I think I recognise this tool from somewhere,” another mused then laughed suddenly, “He’s the one shagging Tommo!”
“No shit! Never would’ve thought that slut would stick with only one dick to ride,” one of them laughed.
“Little faggot, you like taking it up the arse? Or is that Tommo’s job?” all of them were laughing now and Marcel was practically hyperventilating, but he refused to cry; they’d see it as even more incentive to kick the shit out of him. Marcel yelped when suddenly a hand fisted in the neck of his t-shirt and yanked so he flailed backwards, his back smacking into a brick wall with a suddenness that winded him. Marcel looked at the faces and was shocked to find that one of the guys he had seen before. One night out with Louis he had been waved at by this guy and Louis had laughed and told Marcel about the time they’d shagged behind the club, and that this guy tried to pretend it never happened.
“Y-you’re Jack,” Marcel stuttered out, looking at the guy in question. Jack looked nervous then, and it was obvious that he was worried about what Louis might have told him.
“What’s that gotta do with you, you little pouf?” Jack’s friend snapped, getting up in Marcel’s face.
“Louis t-told me- ” Marcel cut off with a shocked gasp and Jack surged forwards and punched him directly in the stomach. Marcel doubled over, gasping desperately.
“You’d better shut that little cock-sucking mouth, bitch,” Jack snapped above Marcel, and he didn’t know why he did it. Maybe he’d just had enough for today and his brain short-circuited or something.
“I haven’t sucked Louis’ cock, but you have,” Marcel gasped out, and there was a collective silence from all the guys until Jack swore and lunged forwards, jabbing his knee up to catch Marcel’s jaw, throwing his head back so hard that it hit the wall behind him. He crumpled to the floor and Jack’s foot flashed forwards quick to kick him in the ribs, making Marcel let out a choked sob of pain, until suddenly a sharp whistle pierced the air. Marcel looked in the direction the other lads did, his eyes swimming with tears and saw a dark figure leaning against the opposite wall, his leg cocked, foot resting against the wall. All five of the guys who had jumped him were facing the dark figure, and that’s when Marcel figured out that it was Zayn.
Zayn’s face was casual but something about him scared even Marcel.
“What the fuck do you think you’re looking at?” Jack snapped and Zayn chuckled humourlessly.
“A little pussy who needs four other guys to help him beat on a kid,” Zayn said slowly, his voice drawling, lazy.
“Fucking come at me,” Jack snapped, advancing on Zayn, and Marcel took a sharp, panicked breath that twinged his bruised ribs. Zayn simply slipped a hand into his pocket and pulled out a shiny, rectangular metal object. Jack stopped short at the sight, and Marcel couldn’t figure out what the object was or why it was so threatening to Jack. Zayn just smiled calmly, his eyes dark, his body loose-limbed and waiting.
Apparently one of Jack’s friends wasn’t so frightened of the mystery object though, because he stepped forwards and advanced on Zayn. Zayn lost his smirk, eyes going hooded, calculating, sizing up Jack’s friend. As the guy got closer, Zayn smoothly stood to his full height before casually flicking his wrist, which caused the sliver rectangle to flip open, revealing an impressive looking knife. The boy looked down to Zayn’s hand then back up to his face, where a smirk was flirting with Zayn’s full lips.
“Try me,” Zayn purred, knocking his chin up in confrontation, his face almost lustful with challenge. The guy seemed to make the decision to swallow his pride because he lifted his hands palms-out to Zayn and stepped back, rejoining the other lads who then all silently walked away. When they were around the corner and out of sight, Zayn flicked the knife closed and slipped it back into his pocket before walking over to Marcel. Marcel was sat up with his back against the wall, one hand pressed to the back of his head and the other clutching his abdomen, and Zayn knelt beside him, pressing his fingers lightly to Marcel’s jaw to move it from side to side, assessing the damage. “It’s not too bad, doesn’t look like you need the hospital, more likely just a shit ton of painkillers,” Zayn murmured, letting go of Marcel’s jaw to sit back on his haunches. Marcel looked at Zayn and couldn’t help his hostile expression. He may have just saved him, but Marcel is also pretty sure he cheated on Harry last night if what Harry said over the phone is true. “What?” Zayn asked, eyes searching Marcel’s face.
“You lied,” Marcel said, and he saw that Zayn didn’t need clarification, his face paled noticeably and he looked sick.
“Does Harry know?” Zayn murmured, reaching up a hand to rub at his stubbled jaw.
“He’s the one who told me and Louis,” Marcel replied quietly, feeling angry at Zayn, angry at Louis, in pain from his injuries, and generally just fed up and tired of everything. “You’ve messed up. He’s never going to forgive this,” Marcel continued tiredly, leaning his head back against the wall but hissing and flinching when the wound there touched the brick.
“We need to get you sorted, you’ll have to come to mine, your mum can pick you up from there since it’s closer than your house,” Zayn replied, dodging the subject, but Marcel could see the panic, the sadness in his gaze, and thought that maybe Zayn realised he’d made a mistake.
“I don’t want to go anywhere with you,” Marcel said stubbornly and Zayn sighed.
“Look, me and your brother . . . we’re like a match and a stick of dynamite. Two things that should’ve never been put together because all we do is make a mess.” Zayn said, and Marcel could see the pain, the struggle in his eyes.
“That’s not true at all, and you know it. You’re just afraid,” Marcel said the last bit delicately; he knew what it was like to be afraid of everything. Marcel felt even more angry because Zayn and Harry had a real chance to be happy, and all that was standing between them was Zayn being afraid, whereas Marcel was realising more and more that Louis had no intention of letting him get too close. They’d never work as a relationship if Louis wouldn’t trust him, so Marcel would have to walk away.
HARRY’S POV
When he’d walked into the restaurant, Ben had been sat at a table waiting for him, and he grinned widely when he saw Harry approaching.
Ben had gone to Harry’s college and they’d had a great agreement where they shagged as much as they wanted but could also shag other people, and it’d been amazing, if Harry was honest. Ben was tall, a couple inches taller even than Harry, with a strong jaw and wide blue/grey eyes. He was heavily muscled, and Harry kind of liked that he made him feel so small in comparison. He had no tattoos, being more of the pretty boy type than the punk type, which is one of the main reasons he’d chosen him to meet up with. He was wearing some camel coloured chinos and one of those black short sleeved shirts that were in fashion right now, the ones that buttoned up to the neck and have prints of flowers all over them. He looked good, but Harry couldn’t help but compare everything to Zayn. Because Ben was seriously hot, no doubt about it, but Zayn was . . . indescribable.
Ben stood as he neared the table and he leant over to peck Harry’s cheek, and Harry smiled warmly at the gesture. That was another thing; Ben honestly didn’t give a fuck about people knowing his sexuality, and even though they’d only been friends with benefits, Ben had liked to show Harry off, liked to parade around with Harry on his arm, smug that he got to sleep with him. That might have been a little pig-headed, but it was a hell of a lot more preferable to being someone’s shameful little secret.
Harry sat down opposite him and took a sip from the glass of water already on the table.
“Haven’t seen you in months, what’ve you been up to?” Ben asked with a wide grin that showed off his perfectly white teeth that Harry knew for a fact he treated with whitening serum. His dirty blond hair was styled into a neat quiff and Harry had the annoying thought that he liked dark hair better than blonds, but he shoved it down to the back of his mind.
“Nothing much, uni has been killing me with the amount of work,” Harry groaned playfully, playing his fingers up and down the stem of his empty wine glass, Ben’s eyes flicking to the movement before returning to Harry’s eyes and grinning sharply. That was another thing Harry liked about Ben; there was no pretences or playing around it, they both knew what they wanted from each other, and they were perfectly fine with it.
“Yeah, I’ve had a bunch of assignments due lately, was nice to have a reason to get out of the house,” Ben chuckled.
“I’m very good at distractions . . .” Harry smirked and Ben laughed again.
“I remember,” he grinned, “You been seeing anyone?” Ben asked and Harry felt no need to lie. He and Ben had always been fine talking to each other about other hook-ups then hooking up themselves.
“Yeah but I think it’s gone to shit to be honest,” Harry replied and Ben’s eyes flashed with knowledge as he caught the slightly sad edge to Harry’s voice.
“He mess you about?” Ben asked, leaning over to stroke his thumb over Harry’s knuckles.
“He was the typical closet gay. Wants to keep shagging me but doesn’t want to admit he’s gay,” Harry said casually, rolling his eyes, but his chest tightened a little and he knew Ben noticed.
“What’d he do?” Ben asked and Harry sighed ruefully, he should’ve known he wouldn’t get away with not telling him everything.
“Told me he was visiting family but really went clubbing. Pretty sure I know why he lied about going out. Seems really obvious he wanted to ‘reapply for his straight card’,” Harry said, making air quotes with his fingers. Ben gave him a wry smile, his eyes sympathetic.
“That sucks. He had a chance to be exclusive with you and he blew it, seems like an idiot to me,” Ben laughed and Harry shook his head with a chuckle, mood lightened a little.
“You know we’d never work out as a couple,” Harry replied playfully.
“Maybe not, but we do fuck like champions,” Ben said with a shrug and Harry barked out a laugh that made him slap his own hand over his mouth in embarrassment.
“I’ll drink to that,” Harry giggled, lifting the wine glass the embarrassed looking waiter had just filled, and clincked it against Ben’s.
They bantered easily throughout dinner, and Ben paid despite Harry’s protests. When they wandered out of the club, Ben tangled his hand easily into Harry’s. They walked to a nearby park and sat on the bench, well, Ben sat on the bench before pulling Harry down to sit on his lap. Their hands were tangled on Ben’s lap and Harry’s head rested against his shoulder and it was easy. But it wasn’t Zayn. Harry hated himself but he knew there was no real spark with Ben. They both knew they liked to shag and thought each other was attractive, but they also both knew that they’d never fall in love, and sap that he was, Harry couldn’t bear the thought of never having that kind of relationship. Worst part was that he’d thought that that was where he and Zayn had been heading, but he’d been stupid to have so much faith. Harry cuddled deeper into Ben for warmth and comfort and Ben wordlessly wrapped his arms tight around him.
“You know I don’t expect anything from you, right? I’d have come out tonight without the promise of sex. You know I care about you,” Ben murmured into his curls and Harry lifted his head and gave Ben a soft kiss.
“I know. I just needed someone to want me, I guess,” Harry shrugged half-heartedly, a weak smile on his lips.
“I bet this guy wants you, just doesn’t know how to handle you. You’re a person that people are just pulled towards, Harry, and sometimes they don’t really want to be pulled.”
“I just . . . I trusted him. I’m not stupid about relationship stuff. I know when something is just sex and when something is more than that, our . . . friendship is key evidence of that. But with him I truly thought that it was more, that it could be amazing some day. But I can’t be his dirty little . . . fetish. I won’t be the one he cheats on his girlfriends with,” Harry explained.
“If it’s affecting you like this, I think you really need to talk to him, you need to find out the truth, if for nothing else than closure. Or else you’re never gonna get over it,” Ben replied softly and Harry sighed.
“Yeah . . . I guess. Do you mind if I just ring my brother quickly?” Harry asked, slipping his phone from his pocket.
“Marcel? He home now? And yeah, go ahead,” Ben said.
“Yeah he got back a while ago, he’s actually seeing Tomlinson,” Harry said with raised eyebrows and shared a look with Ben at that that made him laugh.
“Bloody hell, I wish him luck,” Ben chuckled and Harry smacked him on the back of the head with a grin.
Harry clicked Marcel’s name and listened to it ring for a few seconds.
“Hey,” Marcel answered in an overly happy voice, and Harry frowned.
“Hi? What the hell is up with your voice?” Harry laughed.
“Nothing. What’s up?” Marcel asked quickly.
“Well, you’re lying but okay. Where are you? You home yet?” Harry asked.
“Erm . . . no, not yet,” Marcel hesitated.
“Well then where are you? Are you still with Louis?” Harry asked suspiciously, realising something was going on right now.
“Erm . . . Zayn’s house,” Marcel muttered reluctantly and Harry stood, slipping off Ben’s lap to pace back and forth.
“What the hell are you doing there? What’s happened?” Harry snapped out.
“I got, erm, I got j-jumped and Z-Zayn saved me and I’m at his, but Har-” Marcel stuttered but Harry cut him off.
“Stay there! I’m coming to get you now!” Harry snapped before putting the phone down without saying good bye. “Could you give me a lift?” Harry asked Ben in a rushed voice. Ben frowned in confusion but got up and quickly led Harry to his car. Ben waited until they’d started driving and Harry had given him the address before asking any questions.
“What’s happened?”
“My brother got jumped. The twat who’s been messing me about happened to be the one who bloody saved him and now he’s at his house,” Harry sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair.
“Damn. You want me to come in?” Ben asked sincerely and Harry reached a hand over to squeeze his knee.
“Nah, thank you though. You can just drop me off and you can wash your hands of this,” Harry replied.
“I’ll wait and drive you over to your house,” Ben said firmly and Harry smiled weakly but sincerely at him.
***
Harry banged on the front door and Zayn was quick to open it. Harry pushed past him without saying a word, walking into the living room and scanning until he saw Marcel sat on the couch. Marcel stood up and Harry quickly pulling him into a hug but Marcel squeaked and Harry looked into his face worriedly.
“What’s hurt?” He asked panicked.
“My ribs hurt a little,” with a little frown which Harry took to mean they were bloody killing him, “and my jaw and the back of my head kinda hurt,” Marcel continued shyly and Harry gave him a quick kiss on the temple. He grabbed Marcel’s hand with every intention of simply leaving without a backwards glance but Zayn stepped so he was in Harry’s way and gave him a look of stubborn determination. Harry gritted his teeth before turning back to Marcel.
“Go sit in the car with Ben, I’ll be out in a minute,” Harry said and Marcel gave him a knowing look.
“Ben from college?” He asked timidly, his gaze nervously flicking over to Zayn. Harry nodded and Marcel awkwardly tried to squeeze passed without knocking into either boy. Once Marcel had left and closed the door behind him, Zayn let out an weary sigh and met Harry’s eyes with far less confidence.
“Who’s Ben?” Zayn asked quietly.
“A friend from college. He took me out for dinner. Because, you know, he doesn’t mind being seen with me. Actually, he loves to be seen with me, likes when people know I’m with him and no one else. Fancy that,” Harry said wryly, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms. It might be childish but he wasn’t the one who basically cheated, even if they hadn’t put a label on themselves, they’d still agreed to the monogamy part.
“Harry . . .” Zayn trailed off and he looked so tired, so sad and confused and frustrated and the worst part is that Harry just wanted to hug him and make him feel better, but that can’t be how this goes, or Zayn would just walk all over him.
“Who did you fuck?” Harry asked, his voice casual, but he knew the hurt was in his eyes.
“I-“ Zayn started but Harry couldn’t do it.
“I don’t want to know, actually. It doesn’t really matter, does it? I guess this is over then. I’m gonna need you to not text me or talk to me for a while, I need time and I think I deserve it, okay?” Harry’s voice was firm but there was an underlying tremor, a desperate shake, a need for this to not be happening, but it was and Harry had to face up to reality and stop living in a world where things always worked out.
“I didn’t-“ Zayn tried again, his face getting angrier, panicked.
“Don’t deny it, Zayn. I’m not a fucking idiot,” Harry snapped.
“I didn’t fuck her though! She sucked me off and I stuck a few fingers in her but I didn’t fuck her! I couldn’t fucking do it, okay?! I had to pretend she was you and close my eyes, for fuck’s sake! You’ve ruined me and I don’t know what to do, Harry. I’m so shitting wrecked and I . . . I can’t figure out what to do with myself. I’m not supposed to be gay, Harry. That’s not me. That’s guys like Louis, fucking flamboyant and shit. I mean, can you fucking see me doing drama classes and wearing mesh tops and I don’t fucking know!” Zayn’s arms were spread wide, his face wide open, his voice hysteric.
“Are you serious? Zayn, just because you’re gay doesn’t mean you have to fit into that category. Do I fucking do drama and talk about celebrities all day long with my ‘gal pals’? No, I fucking don’t. Why are you so afraid to just let yourself be who you are? Who bloody cares if you’re gay?” Harry demanded, chest heaving.
“I don’t wanna be called a faggot by strangers on the street, Harry. I don’t want the stigma. Especially since I don’t even think I’m fucking gay. I couldn’t really give a shit about other guys, it’s just you. You with your stupid fucking hair and your stupid big-ass eyes, and your fucking legs that go for miles and always make you look like you could fall at any second. Like a fucking baby giraffe or somethin’. I can’t get your stupid dimples out of my head. When I kiss you . . . It’s just so much better than any kiss I’ve ever had. When I’m inside you it’s like I can finally breathe but at the same time I feel breathless, and I know that doesn’t make sense but fuck you, because it’s your fucking fault! All your fucking fault!” Zayn was practically screaming this at the top of his lungs and then his voice cracked on the last word, his eyes shining a little with unshed tears. “I feel like I need to run away from you, get as far away as fast as I can, then maybe this could go away. But at the same time the thought of you leaving this house right now and never kissing you again makes me want to throw up. I can’t even imagine what it’d be like to even see fucking rain and not think about you straight away. I’m so goddamn scared Harry, and I’m begging you not to leave me alone in this. Please, just . . . Don’t leave me for this,” Zayn begged, one tear escaping his control and falling from his thick lashes. And damn if Harry wasn’t crying too. The tears had been escaping silently and Harry couldn’t stop them even if he tried.
“I don’t even know if I could bloody leave, Zayn! Do you not understand that I’m scared too? You’re so gorgeous and amazing and you could get just about anyone you want. And I can’t even trust you anymore. I thought you’d at least tell me straight if you wanted to see other people, Zayn. I’m not stupid and you know I’m no stranger to casual relationships, so I would’ve thought you’d at least let me know. Instead I’m the fucking mug who got cheated on,” Harry practically sobbed in response. He felt so hurt by all this, especially since he knew he’d never get over this. Ben was wrong; he’d never get closure if they both decided to end this.
“That wasn’t what I wanted, Haz. I don’t want to see other people. I don’t know why I went there. I was just scared and desperate and I didn’t know what to do-” Zayn’s eyes were wide and pleading and Harry cut him off.
“You talk to me! Did you just forget that we’re friends too? That we were friends before all this stuff happened? I care about you, Zayn. I need you to talk to me, even if it’s something I don’t really wanna hear,” Harry demanded, his face sticky with salt water, his skin tight as it dried.
“But I don’t want to hurt you. I know that I did anyway, but I never meant to. I just . . . I love you and I can’t-” Zayn almost shouted.
“You what?” Harry whispered and Zayn looked at him with eyes that begged him not to make him repeat his words, but Harry was determined not to be easy on him about this, not abut something so important.
“I love you, okay? And I’m scared shitless,” Zayn gave a weak chuckle, his face slack with exhaustion. Harry looked at him for a moment before silently walking passed Zayn to the door and out of it, ignoring Zayn’s protests. As he got to the car he leant down to the driver side window and Ben rolled it down.
“You okay, mate?” Ben asked, eyeing the space behind him where he knew Zayn stood anxiously, his eyes filled with anger and threat.
“Not really but I need you to take Marcel back to mine, if that’s okay? I’m staying here tonight. You okay with that, Marcel?” Harry asked after Ben nodded, and Marcel searched his face with narrow eyes for a moment before nodding reluctantly. Harry nodded back and stood up straight, tapping on the roof of the car and Ben drove away. He turned back to Zayn and they stood facing each other on the front garden, the dim light of a street lamp the only real illumination. “You can’t say ‘I love you’ and expect everything to be okay. It’s not a magic fix,” Harry murmured and Zayn nodded.
“I know. But I needed to say it anyway,” Zayn whispered back. Harry took a deep breath and made his way back to Zayn’s house, stepping inside and hearing Zayn close and lock the door behind them. Harry stood with his arms crossed in the centre of the room and Zayn walked up behind him to press his forehead against the centre of Harry’s back between his shoulder blades, his hands coming up to rest on Harry’s hips. “Sleep in my bed. I’ll sleep on the couch,” Zayn murmured softly, lifting his face to kiss the exposed skin at the back of Harry’s neck. Harry nodded and silently left the room, padding upstairs to curl in Zayn’s sheets, inhaling the familiar smell almost desperately, like a junkie finally getting his fix.
Harry lasted 38 minutes before he padded back downstairs in a pair of Zayn's boxers. Zayn was curled on the couch in his sweatpants, a blanket wrapped around him. He was already asleep but Harry shook his shoulder gently until he woke up. Zayn opened his eyes blearily, not fully awake, and came easily as Harry tugged him up then led him upstairs to his own bed. Zayn slid under the covers and held out his arms for Harry. Harry curled up so his back was pressed to Zayn’s front, their fingers tangled on Harry’s stomach, their legs pressed tight together, and Zayn’s lips against the bare skin of his back. Zayn was asleep instantly but Harry fought sleep with every bit of his self control, desperate to commit every part of this to his memory, just in case they broke again.
Harry was done being naive.
Notes:
so i hope you enjoyed it! i even took time off painting my nails- they're special one direction themed ones since i'm going to see This Is Us tomorrow and i'm way too excited haha, go to my tumblr to see a picture of them ( http://thedeliciousrude.tumblr.com/ )
Anyway, please leave any comments you want, even if they're small, i love talking to you guys and hearing your thoughts <3
Chapter 10: I'm Not Quite Ready For The Morning Light
Summary:
Title from the song that is later mentioned in the fic (The Rubens- I'll Surely Die)
Notes:
Okay so I've written this for you guys even though I should be reading my uni course books, but oh well lol.
And thank you to SimplyLove because you have faith in my abilities as a pro (not a prostitute) <3
I'm actually a little ashamed of how much my mind was in the gutter whilst writing this haha, but hopefully you guys like it :)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
HARRY’S POV
When Harry woke up in the morning, he figured he was just going to skip Uni for the day, since the clock told him it was after 10 so he’d already missed his morning lecture anyway. He turned over and the other side of the bed was empty, the cold sheets under Harry’s finger tips meant that they had been that way for a while.
Harry laid there looking up at the ceiling and took a few deep breaths, steeling himself for facing Zayn this morning. The thing is, he really wasn’t over this at all. He couldn’t leave Zayn but he also couldn’t just forgive him after what he’s done. Harry realised that Zayn kind of needed a wakeup call, needed to know that he couldn’t just pick Harry up whenever he wanted, needed to know that Harry had other options too.
Harry wandered downstairs, still only wearing a pair of Zayn’s grey boxers. Zayn was stood at the kitchen counter, only wearing a pair of grey sweatpants, sipping from a mug of tea. Harry walked past him and took the tea from his hands, sliding up to sit on the counter and taking a small sip, sighing as it’s heat spread though his abdomen. Zayn shook his head at him with a tentative smile and moved to make himself a new cup.
“You not going in today?” Zayn asked softly, pouring two teaspoons of sugar into his tea.
“Nah, no point since I’ve missed my first lecture anyway,” Harry replied. Zayn finished stirring his tea and Harry knew Zayn kept sneaking glances at him, trying to judge his mood, but Harry wasn’t going to reassure him. Let him sweat, is what Harry thought. Zayn took a sip of his tea but sighed and slipped it on to the counter, walking over to stand between Harry’s knees with a timid expression.
“How much shit am I in?” Zayn murmured, frowning, his hands gentle on Harry’s knees.
“Do I really need to answer that?” Harry asked with a raised eyebrow, and Zayn cringed in response.
“Are you through with me?” Zayn whispered and Harry sighed in exasperation.
“I’m still fucking here, aren’t I?” Harry replied testily.
“Yeah, but I’m not going to be an idiot and think that that means we’re fine,” Zayn said and Harry smiled reluctantly.
“I’m still here. But things are changing, Zayn. Like, no more sex, not until you sort out your shit,” Harry said sternly and Zayn’s face visibly dropped in disbelief.
“Seriously?” Zayn asked, his voice a little whiny which vindictively made Harry smile. Harry leant forwards and caught hold of Zayn’s chin between his thumb and finger, pulling him close so their lips almost touched and Harry could taste Zayn’s sugary-tea tasting breath on his tongue.
“I’m not your fuck buddy, Zayn. That’s where your head took a wrong turn. Either you commit, and you can fuck me to your heart’s content. Or you walk away, and we never do this again. Your choice. But if you want to commit, then you have to prove it first. You don’t just get to tell me you love me then dive right back into my pants. I’m easy, but not that easy,” Harry murmured, lips brushing Zayn’s with every word, and Zayn’s eyes looked a little doped at the tease.
“You’re a nasty little bitch when you want to be, Haz,” Zayn breathed out, his breath choppy. Harry smiled and pushed Zayn’s face to the side, away from his lips. Harry leant back and picked up his mug again.
“Hmmm . . . But I’m not the one who cheated,” Harry replied, his voice casual, but Zayn could hear the underlying venom if his cringe was anything to go by.
“I know. It was an arsehole move, okay?” Zayn sighed, ducking his head to look up into Harry’s eyes, his hands softly stroking the pale skin of Harry’s thighs.
“It was,” Harry agreed. “But I’m not changing my mind on this, Zayn. No sex. Not until you’ve sorted out whatever the hell is going on in your head.” Just then Zayn’s phone rang from in the living room and he padded off reluctantly to answer it.
“What? . . . I don’t fucking know . . . Well that was your own fault . . . You left him to walk home alone, Louis . . . He was fucking jumped! That’s why it fucking matters, you prick! . . . Well you should’ve thought of that . . . Harry’s here . . . Yeah . . .” Harry could only hear Zayn’s side of the conversation but he got the gist pretty quick. Zayn walked over to him then and handed him the phone.
“Why the fuck did you let my baby brother walk home alone?” Harry demanded as soon as he had the phone to his ear.
“We had an argument, Haz! I was mad and I didn’t even think about how late it was when he stormed out! How was I supposed to know that’d happen? Is he okay? Is he hurt?” Louis shot out in reply, his voice defensive, guilty and worried. Harry could tell he’d been beating himself up about this.
“He’s ok, just bruised up. What the fuck did you argue about to make him storm out?” Harry asked.
“It’s none of your business,” Louis replied shiftily.
“Well, from the way you had to ask me and Zayn for an update report, I’m guessing Marcel isn’t responding to your texts or calls, so if you wanna keep this line of information open, then you’ll fucking make it my business,” Harry purred sweetly. Louis cursed harshly for a few seconds before sighing.
“It’s the thing with Markus . . . I can’t get him involved in that shit, and I know you don’t want that either, but he won’t stop asking questions,” Louis sighed frustratedly.
“You get any of that shit near Marcel, and I’ll fucking kill you, Louis. I love you but if my brother gets messed up in that, then you’ll regret it,” Harry warned, his voice serious, and even Zayn looked a little worried.
“I’m trying not to! But I can’t exactly back out on Markus now . . . and I can’t stop seeing Marcel,” Louis added the last bit on in a quiet murmur, and Harry knew it was hard for Louis to admit that.
“Apologise to him. And I don’t want him anywhere near that shit, but you need to tell him some of what’s going on, or he’ll never believe anything you say to him. He’s big on trust, Louis, and you’ve made it clear you’ll keep secrets from him. He’s at uni now, he’ll have a break soon so just try catch him on campus,” Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair.
“Thank you, Harry. This means a lot to me,” Louis said quietly, putting the phone down before Harry could reply. Harry handed the phone to Zayn and he slipped it into the pocket of his sweats.
“Are you really sure you want Marcel anywhere near him? You know I love him but . . . He’s in deep with some of this stuff, Harry, and if his history with loved ones is anything to go by, Marcel could be in some serious danger right now,” Zayn said, his face serious. They both loved Louis to death, but they also weren’t naive about him. Louis had gotten into some even worse stuff when he was younger, and when he was 15 he made some stupid mistakes and it ended badly with his family.
“I can’t decide for my brother, no matter how much I want to. He’s not a kid anymore, and I realise that I need to let him make his own mistakes, and just stand back ready to pick up the pieces if he needs me. He’s my baby brother, of course I don’t want him to be part of this shit, but . . . The past few weeks that he’s been seeing Louis . . . He’s grown, you know? He looks happier, and freaking calmer half the time. It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to use the word calm to describe my brother, Zayn, and I’m not gonna be the one to ruin that,” Harry replied, sighing deeply and pushing hair back off his forehead, but it flopped straight back into his eyes again. Zayn smiled softly and moved close to him, lifting a hand to gently stroke the hair back off of his face. Zayn leant in and Harry gave him a warning look, telling him no kissing was allowed, he knew how it’d end up if they did. But Zayn just smiled softly before kissing the end of his nose, then tipping his head down to give him an Eskimo kiss. Harry couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the edges of his lips.
“I love you. I know that doesn’t change our situation right now, but I wanted to say it anyway,” Zayn murmured, looking into Harry’s eyes earnestly. Harry swallowed thickly and nodded, silently leaning in to kiss the end of Zayn’s nose in return.
MARCEL’S POV
Marcel wasn’t exactly in a happy mood in class today. He knew he was being a downer, and he knew Niall and Liam had noticed, but he couldn’t help it. He’d ignored every one of Louis’ phone calls and texts, refusing to put himself through that after Louis had been such a dick.
“You feeling any better?” Liam asked softly as they walked through the gardens on campus. They had an hour off for dinner and usually Harry would’ve been meeting Louis somewhere in town, but that was different now.
“I’m fine,” Marcel replied, giving the worried boy a weak smile. Niall threw his arm around Marcel’s shoulder and squeezed.
“You do realise you can talk to us, right? We’re your friends,” Niall grinned and Marcel’s smile was a little more genuine this time.
“Me and Louis had a fight . . . He’s keeping a bunch of secrets and he was just well . . . an arsehole,” Marcel had hesitated but the final word burst from his lips and he giggled a little at it. “I dunno, I guess I just don’t see it working out,” Marcel shrugged, but he felt the ache in his chest increase.
“He seemed to really like you, Marcel,” Liam offered, his eyes sympathetic.
“He let me walk out, and . . . I just- I just feel like he should’ve come after me, you know? Especially since I got jumped because I was alone,” Marcel said, gesturing weakly at his darkly bruised jaw.
“He made a mistake, maybe he feels really bad, I mean, I saw your phone lighting up all the time. Was that him?” Liam asked gently and Marcel nodded.
“Yeah but he said a bunch of stuff and he just acted like a complete-” Marcel was cut off when Niall patted his chest to get his attention.
“Uh, Marcel? Someone is here to see you,” Niall said warily and Marcel looked at him in confusion for a second before directing his gaze to where Niall was looking. Marcel felt his stomach twist; Louis was stood at the campus gates, arms crossed and leaning against the stone, eyes locked on Marcel. When he saw that Marcel had spotted him, he stood up to his full height, and walked slowly over to them.
“Hey,” Louis nodded at Niall and Liam, who both warily nodded back. Then he faced Marcel. “Hey, Dimples,” he murmured softly, and Marcel felt a squeeze in his chest, making him lose his breath a little.
“Hi,” Marcel said thickly, nervously twisting his hands in the straps over his shoulders.
“I needed to see you. You weren’t answering my texts or calls . . . I was worried,” Louis explained, his blue eyes wide and vulnerable.
“I’m mad at you,” Marcel murmured, darting his gaze away from Louis’ and back again.
“How're you feeling? I found out about those guys,” Louis said and his gaze sparked with anger.
“Just bruised and sore. Mum freaked out and had our doctor make a house call. He said nothing's broken so I just need to take it steady for a while and I’ll be fine,” Marcel can’t believe how much of an idiot he sounds, babbling on, but he was so nervous he felt like he was either going to throw up or pass out.
“They’ll regret it, Dimples, don’t you worry about that,” Louis said, his voice filled with threat, his eyes dark, and Marcel shook his head.
“Don’t do something stupid on account of me. I mean, like you said, I’m not your boyfriend. So really, it’s not your concern,” Marcel said with a shrug, he tried to be casual but his bitterness shone through like a too-bright beacon.
“Marcel . . . You know I didn’t mean that. I was angry, and defensive, and stupid. I’m sorry for saying that,” Louis said, his face now looking tired and regretful.
“Sure,” Marcel said, his voice just a little too happy to be realistic, and Louis noticed, his eyes narrowing.
“I didn’t fucking mean it, Marcel. Don’t let my stupid defensiveness ruin this thing between us,” Louis said, his voice was almost angry, but his eyes begged Marcel to listen.
"I’m not doing anything. It’s you who can’t even be honest with me. And I can’t . . . I can’t handle that, Louis,” Marcel murmured, his eyes wide, childlike in their earnest nature. Marcel turned to leave then and Louis grabbed his arm to stop him. Niall moved forwards at that, stepping up protectively.
“You need to let go, mate,” Niall said, and Marcel was shocked by how this carefree boy now sounded utterly menacing, his face dark as thunder clouds.
“You gonna fucking make me?” Louis asked, his voice disbelieving, a sarcastic eyebrow raised, lips smirking in a cocky smile.
“Yeah,” Niall said and raised a hand to wrap around Louis’ wrist of the hand that was grabbing Marcel’s arm in a vice-tight grip. Marcel paled when he noticed the darkness that began to cloud Louis’ usually bright eyes.
“Niall, just leave it, yeah? He isn’t trying to hurt me or anything,” Marcel said softly, his voice trembling a little.
“Maybe, but he needs to realise that he can’t make you stay when you obviously wanna go,” Niall pointed out and Louis let out a sarcastic bark of laughter.
“First of all, our relationship is none of your fucking business, you Irish little prick. Second of all, you couldn’t stop me if you tried,” Louis taunted, and Marcel saw Niall’s face harden, and he took a step towards Louis. But before Niall could even raise an arm, Louis snapped his back and threw a punch, hitting Niall square on the jaw. Niall was knocked flat on his arse, letting out a string of slurring curses, half of which Marcel guessed were Irish since he didn’t understand them. Louis took a menacing step towards Niall’s seated form but before he could make another move, Liam suddenly blocked his path. Marcel looked at Liam in shock, realising for the first time just how muscular the boy was. Liam’s soft eyes and smile had disguised just how threatening he could actually look. But now his face was hard, his eyes dark and filled with threat. Louis tried to push past him and Liam landed a punch to the side of his face with such quick efficiency that there was a moment that Marcel just looked on in confusion as to why Louis was now on the floor clutching his face.
“I fucking can. And don’t touch my boyfriend ever again,” Liam spat before turning to help Niall up, his face back to its delicate, sympathetic nature. “You okay, baby?”
“Yeah. Fuck,” Niall replied, turning to the side to spit out some bloody saliva.
Liam then turned and glared at Louis who was back on his feet and looking as if he was going to advance on Liam again. Marcel forced his frozen body to move and rushed over to he could press his hands to Louis’ chest.
“Don’t,” Marcel said, looking down at Louis and forcing the angry boy to meet his gaze. Louis searched his eyes for a second before nodding reluctantly and taking a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. Marcel turned to face Liam and Niall. “Look, fighting isn’t exactly going to help anything. Thank you for standing up for me, Niall, but that wasn’t the way to do it. And I’m sorry on his behalf that he hit you. And Liam? You’re my friend and I understand you hit him because he hit Niall and as your friend I totally agree with that, but as the guy who’s seeing Louis? If you ever hit him again then . . . I don’t know what I’ll do but it’ll be bad, okay?” Marcel finished weakly and Liam smiled ruefully and nodded his head, fully understanding what Marcel was attempting to say.
“You punch like a fucking freight train. I can respect that,” Louis offered, nodding his head at Liam who smiled a little sharper in response.
“Boxer,” Liam explained and Louis nodded before sighing and glancing at Marcel’s upset face before looking at Niall.
“Sorry for that, mate. I’m not exactly the calmest person when it comes to this shit,” Louis offered and Niall nodded, accepting the apology.
“I’m gonna go with him, I’ll see you guys later, okay?” Marcel said to Liam and Niall who nodded reluctantly before heading off with stiff waves goodbye.
“I’m sorry, Dimples. I just . . . Didn’t like him trying to get between us,” Louis said, scrubbing a hand over the back of his neck sheepishly.
“You have a lot to make up for,” Marcel said softly, crossing his arms over his chest protectively.
“I know, and I’m gonna try,” Louis said before holding out a hand. Marcel hesitated for a second but he sighed and caught Louis’ hand in his, tangling their fingers together.
***
They walked around for a while but when it came time for Marcel to go back to class, he found himself reluctant to let go of Louis’ hand, so when Louis suggested going to his place, Marcel said yes despite the anxiety that skipping his lecture caused.
Louis was in the kitchen getting them a drink and Marcel was looking at the DVD shelves. When he got to a case that suspiciously looked like porn, he pulled it out and gaped at the front photo of two guys, one guy sprawled out on his hands and knees, and the other guys mouth . . . down there. And it wasn’t a blow job.
Maybe Marcel was too innocent after all, because his face blushed deep red and he fumbled trying to shove it back so fast that he dropped it on the floor. When he went to pick it up Louis was in the door way and his lips twitched when he saw the front cover of the DVD that Marcel held between trembling fingers. Marcel froze, looking at Louis guiltily and Louis wandered over slowly, placing the drinks down on the coffee table. Louis stopped when he was close to Marcel, but not touching him, and gently tugged the DVD out of his grip, bringing it up to look at the cover before raising an eyebrow at Marcel.
“I-I didn’t know what it was,” Marcel said weakly, feeling too hot and like he could just curl up into a ball and die.
“Hmmm . . . You ever watched something like this before?” Louis murmured, his eyes glinting with mischief.
“No,” Marcel practically squeaked, embarrassed and also very nervous at the look that crossed Louis’ face.
“Well, then I get be your first . . .” Louis murmured and Marcel looked at him questioningly, not understanding, “Means I get to take your porn virginity,” Louis smirked with obvious glee at how much he was embarrassing Marcel.
“N-no, that’s not necessary. . .” Marcel trailed off as Louis went over to the TV and slipped the disk in, ignoring Marcel’s weak protests. Louis walked over and sat on the couch then, pointing the channel changer to click play, and the title screens started rolling.
“Come here,” Louis murmured, holding out a hand to Marcel who stood wide eyed and trembling across the room.
ZAYN’S POV
Zayn knew Harry was planning something, he could see it in his eyes, in the way he’d been a little shifty all day. They’d spent the day off from uni together, mostly just cuddling and watching T.V. with no kisses allowed. It’d frustrated Zayn, being unable to touch Harry whenever he wanted, and then he’d realised how big of a mistake he’d nearly made. If it was bothering him this much not being able to kiss Harry, but still able to hold him and laugh with him, then what would he have been like if Harry had completely walked away?
It’d come to 8:00pm and Harry was getting restless, buzzing with energy, and when he asked Zayn if they could go out for a few drinks, Zayn knew Harry’d been wanting to ask for a while. Zayn saw something in Harry’s eyes that told him this wasn’t just a casual night out. Harry was planning something and Zayn was smart enough to be wary.
When they got to a club- not the one Zayn had cheated on him at, as Harry had specified that Zayn was never to go in there again- Harry quickly headed over to a group of people. Zayn followed behind, and narrowed his eyes when he recognised one of the guys in the group. It was the guy who Harry had been on a date with last night- Ben?- and Harry was now giving him a friendly hug hello that made something hot and dark curl up in Zayn’s chest, waiting to be let out. Zayn knew his face was quietly hostile, but he shook Ben’s hand civilly anyway since Harry gave him a pointed look to do so.
The problem was that Zayn wanted to show this Ben guy that Harry wasn’t single, he wanted to kiss him and hold him close, but he wasn’t allowed, and technically Harry wasn’t even his boyfriend, especially not in public. Funny how Zayn was more bothered about Harry's rules about no kissing than the fact he'd be kissing Harry in a public place if he tried. So Zayn seethed in the background, drinking his beer sulkily, as Harry laughed and charmed his friends. Zayn knew Harry was a flirty person, and usually it didn’t bother him because he knew that Harry was also fiercely loyal, but when he touched Ben’s arm one too many times, Zayn felt like he was going to explode. Zayn quietly shouldered his way through a couple people and slipped himself beside Harry, placing a hand on his hip and sliding it around to settle on the lower curve of his belly, just above his waistband. He saw Ben’s eyes flicker down to where Zayn’s hand rested but he showed no visible response to the possessive move.
Harry tangled his fingers with Zayn’s so they both rested on his stomach, but kept his conversation with Ben going, and Zayn felt a little miffed that Harry wasn’t paying him more attention.
The thing is that his possessiveness was pointing out that he’d been pretty much screwed for a long time. He didn’t understand how he’d ever thought sleeping with a girl would ‘cure’ him of his need for Harry.
Harry pushed at Ben’s chest playfully and Zayn gritted his teeth to control himself. Zayn had an idea and leant in to whisper in Harry’s ear.
“You wanna head home? I know you said no sex, but does me sucking you off count?” His lips brushed Harry’s ear as he spoke and he felt the shiver go down Harry’s spine where it was pressed to the side of his chest, and he smirked in response.
“T-that does count,” Harry stuttered breathlessly and Zayn pouted in response, which made Harry smile. “Plus, we were gonna head to the strip club next, apparently they have some special event on and amateurs can get up and dance too. We wanna go laugh at the people who fail at pole dancing,” Harry grinned and Zayn reluctantly nodded in agreement.
The huge group of them plus Harry friends headed over to the strip joint then, Zayn clinging to Harry’s hand- despite the fact that anyone could see them- but Harry’s attention stayed infuriatingly on Ben. They managed to get seats right in front of the stage, and Harry ended up sat on his lap because he’d managed to cajole him into it with plenty of pouting, so he sat looking smug about it whenever Ben glanced at him.
Harry was giggling none stop at the amount of idiots who attempted to dance on stage, until one of the professional dancers came to the front of the stage with a mic and a huge white smile.
“Anyone else brave enough? Come on guys, it’ll be fun, promise,” She said with a wink, earning a few cheers and whistles. When Harry got up from his lap, Zayn was about to ask him if he was going to the toilet, when he suddenly climbed up onto the hip-high stage. Zayn sat with a gaping mouth as Harry whispered into the girls’ ear, making her laugh and glance at Zayn in response to whatever Harry had just said. “We have a volunteer!” She cheered before walking Harry to the side of the stage where presumably he could tell the DJ what song he wanted. The DJ nodded and high-fived Harry’s upraised hand before starting the song.
From the first few beats, Zayn knew the song, ‘The Rubens’ were a big part of his iTunes. Harry stalked over to the pole, placing one hand on the pole, slowly walking around it, his body pliant, shifting to the beat of the music. As the lyrics started, Harry turned his back to the pole and slid down it, thighs parted, hands holding the pole above his head. He let go and placed his hands on the floor, crawling on his hands and knees towards where Zayn was seated. He stopped at the edge and sat back on his heels, sliding his palms up his thighs until they hit the bottom of the red jumper he wore. His fingers teased at the edges before he gave a wicked grin and pulled the jumper slowly over his head, revealing the long, pale expanse of his torso, his tattoos a harsh contrast to the creamy flesh. The strobe lights flickered red and blue over his skin, showing the dips and hollows of his muscled body, and Zayn shifted slightly in his seat, lifting a hand rub at his bottom lip nervously.
Harry saw his actions and turned his back to the audience, the crowd’s eyes captivated on the toned, wide strength of his bare shoulders, and the little shadows in the dimples at the bottom of his spine.
As Harry stood and prowled back over to the pole, Zayn couldn’t agree with the lyrics of the song more; ‘My hands are tied, ‘cause if I try to leave this place I’d surely die, I’d surely die.’
Harry took a head start and grasped the pole up high, jumping so his thighs were wrapped around the pole. His momentum kept him swinging around, his head thrown back, mouth open obscenely, until he slid his feet back to the floor, walking around the pole again. He slung a leg up, wrapping his thigh around the metal and arms his back outwards. He was beautiful like this. Zayn had never seen something so sinuous, so . . . sensual. Harry moved like he knew every muscle in his body, no longer awkward on his long legs.
Harry kicked off his boots, pulling off his socks too, and then padded over to the bar on bare feet. Harry used his feet then to help him climb to the top of the pole, before twisting his body until he was upside down, held up by his feet wrapped around the pole. He stretched his arms outwards first, his body like an upside down cross, then stretched them down to the floor, his body a lithe form covered only by those skinny jeans that looked like they were painted onto his skin. He let his feet go slightly loose then and Zayn gasped a little as he dropped until his hands hit the floor and he was in a handstand, his back and bum pressed to the pole. Harry brought his legs over then and used the pole as leverage to pull himself up, but he didn’t just stand, he pushed outwards so the curve of his arse was prominent, grinding up the pole, moving inwards to press his crotch against it, sliding up and down it slowly to the beat. Harry did one last spin of the pole, and as he came to feet again, the last notes of the song echoed through the silent room until suddenly everyone was whistling and cheering and Harry stood beside the pole with a cheeky smile and flushed cheeks. Zayn stood and came to the edge of the stage and Harry quickly walked over to him and threw his arms around his neck, jumping into his arms and wrapping his legs around Zayn’s hips with a giddy laugh, before he let his legs fall to the floor and stood pressed to Zayn’s side, huge grin in place.
“You were beautiful,” Zayn whispered in his ear, and Harry turned to hide his face in Zayn’s neck, clinging to his back tightly. And Zayn had the sudden thought that he never wanted to let go, he wanted everyone to know that this strange, perfect creature was his. Zayn knew he loved Harry, had felt it so deeply that he couldn’t deny to even himself, but this was the first time he’d truly acknowledged his need to have Harry all for himself, to claim Harry as his in front of the whole world.
“Wow! That was definitely the best we’ve seen! I’m tempted to offer you a job!” The woman with the mic was back on stage and she handed Harry all the things he’d stripped off with a grin. Harry took them with a blush but smiled back at her. Ben stood and clapped Harry on the back in congratulations and Harry laughed and gave him a quick hug that made Zayn’s insides burn.
All he wanted was to take Harry home, to kiss every inch of his skin, to sink inside of him with a sigh. He wanted Harry so much that it felt like the need was strangling him. Harry turned back to him then, and he must have seen something in Zayn’s eyes because he quickly made his way back to Zayn’s side, tucking himself under Zayn’s arm even though they were basically the same height. When Zayn sat, Harry curled himself up on his lap, nuzzling his neck like a kitten, and Zayn couldn’t help but react, his jeans getting a little tight in the crotch. Harry wiggled a little on his lap, and Zayn looked down slightly to see the little smirk on Harry’s lips, knowing Harry had felt his body's reaction.
“Where the hell did you learn that?!” exclaimed a girl with cherry red hair.
“Ask Ben! It’s all his fault,” Harry laughed and Zayn’s expression hardened at that.
“I thought it’d be fun to do some lessons since it’s apparently really good for you! It was totally harmless!” Ben insisted and Harry laughed. “It’s not my fault that you have a dirty mind, Haz. It was exercise, and you turned it into a dirty little trick to pull out when you want to impress someone,” Ben admonished Harry and Zayn felt a little warmth in his heart at that, thinking about the fact that maybe Harry had done this to impress him.
MARCEL’S POV
The first ten minutes were kind of okay, just some aggressive snogging, maybe a hand job or two. But then it took a turn for the worst. The guy on screen bent the other guy over the desk and started to kiss up his thigh, and Marcel knew where that was heading thanks to the front of the DVD box. When the man’s tongue began to lick and probe at the other man’s entrance, Marcel couldn’t help it, his eyes flicked to Louis to find that Louis wasn’t watching the DVD, he was watching Marcel’s expression. Marcel blushed even deeper then and looked away quickly, unfortunately back to the film where they were getting an up close and personal HD shot of this guy getting his arse licked. Marcel almost choked on his own spit. Suddenly Louis’ hand was on the back of his neck, and Marcel turned to shyly look at him.
Louis leaned in slowly, kissing him softly at first but it was soon deep and messy, their gasps mingled with the moans coming from the T.V. Louis pulled Marcel until he was straddling his hips and Marcel went pliant in his grip, doing whatever Louis wanted. Louis pulled back to kiss up his jaw to his ear though, his breath tickling Marcel’s neck and causing goose bumps to spring up on his skin.
“What would you do if I did that to you, Dimples? Huh? Would you cry prettily for me?” Louis whispered and Marcel buried his face in Louis’ neck, trying to hide from the words that were making him squirm, making his length harden. Louis hand slipped down the back of Marcel’s chinos then, the tight fit making it so Louis huffed in frustration and used his other hand to undo the button at the front. His hand reached down to cup Marcel’s arse, squeezing softly, and he leant back up to kiss Marcel senseless as his hand slipped further inwards and his fingers grazed him . . . there. Where Louis hadn’t touched him yet. Marcel shuddered and pressed timidly into the touch, and Louis rewarded him by brushing over him a little harder. His other hand slipped into the front of Marcel’s jeans and palmed his hardened length, stroking him until Marcel rested his head against Louis’ shoulder, panting for breath at the double attack. Suddenly Louis pushed him to his feet and spun him so he faced away.
“Louis?” Marcel asked, his voice rough and weak. Louis reached up and pulled Marcel’s trousers and boxers down to his ankles and Marcel stood there embarrassed until Louis spoke, his hands gentle on the backs of Marcel’s thighs.
“Lean forward for me, baby. Put your hands on the coffee table,” Louis coaxed, his voice rough and incredible. Marcel looked down at the coffee table that barely came to his knees and thought about what he’d look like with his hands down on it, his arse in the air, and he blushed even darker. “Come on, baby, I’ve got you, I’m here,” Louis reassured and Marcel felt Louis’ lips press a soft kiss to the back of his thigh. Marcel took a deep breath and jerkily moved so he was bent at the waist, palms flat on the coffee table, and he heard a soft groan from Louis. Louis’ hands brushed over the cheeks of his arse, palming their softness and squeezing gently, his mouth pressed kisses over his thighs until Marcel felt himself relax a little, his focus completely on Louis’ actions and not his current state. Louis’ hands gently pressed Marcel’s cheeks apart and suddenly Louis’ mouth was on him, copying what the men on the DVD had just been doing. Marcel whimpered at the feel of Louis’ tongue on him and Louis stroked his hands up Marcel’s thighs as if to reassure him. Soon Marcel couldn’t help it, pressing back onto Louis’ mouth, his own mouth open and panting, his brow furrowed. Louis reached around and began to stroke Marcel’s length with long, sure strokes that made it hard for Marcel to keep his legs locked.
Marcel hung his head down in utter defeat and caught sight of Louis between his legs. Louis’ other hand was busy stroking his own length and the sight, combined with Louis’ hand and tongue, sent Marcel over the edge and he came with a breathy cry. Louis continued to torment him until he also finished, and Marcel immediately slumped to the floor, boneless. He heard Louis’ breathless chuckle and sat up slowly to meet his gaze with a giggle of his own.
Louis reached down and pulled Marcel up into his lap, Marcel making a scrunched up face at the feel of Louis’ cum now sticky on the back of his thighs. Louis pulled Marcel close, cuddling him and stroking his fingers through his hair softly.
“You were amazing, baby,” Louis whispered into his temple before pressing a kiss there, and Marcel blushed happily in response. Marcel tilted his head back and pressed a soft kiss to Louis’ puffy, red lips.
“I think I need a shower,” Marcel murmured with a little frown and Louis laughed, playing his fingers over the damp skin of Marcel’s lower back.
“Yeah, I think you have the right idea. Come on, Dimples, I’ll scrub your back,” Louis chuckled with a wink, and Marcel quickly stood and let Louis pull him to the shower by the hand, smiling the entire time.
Notes:
Hope you guys liked it :)
And I'm a little curious about where my readers are from so can you guys comment where you're from?
Thank you :)
xXx
Chapter 11: Maybe I'll Hold My Breath And Jump Right In
Summary:
Title from 'Control' by Garbage :)
Notes:
I'm so, so , so sorry for the massive wait. I went to Ibiza then i had my first week back at Uni and a bunch of uni reading to do, and when i tried to write for this fic, i was getting off track of how i wanted it to go, and it would've ended with me having to change the warnings to 'major character death' and i didn't want to do that to you guys or myself and risk open rebellion, so i decided to take some time away from it and get my ideas straight :) so the wait was actually the best option haha.
Anyway, i hope you guys enjoy this and i promise to update again faster than this time <3
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
MARCEL’S POV
The thing is, after he and Louis had taken that next step forwards in their relationship, he’d thought that meant Louis was going to be more honest with him, but it just felt like the only thing that changed was the sexual side of their relationship. They still hadn’t gone all the way though, and Marcel felt nervous and on edge with the way their relationship seemed to just be teetering on the edge of something, neither here nor there. It also felt like Louis liked using their sexual relationship to unsteady Marcel, to make him nervous, because he liked being the one to console him afterwards and it also kept Marcel from asking too many questions.
Louis may not be explaining his secrets, but it seemed like he was less strict in keeping the fact that he has secrets away from Marcel. They’ll go to clubs, and Louis will wander off to talk to large group of guys, and even though he’s still in Marcel’s line of sight, he’s clearly making some kind of hand off to these people. Marcel gets so much more worried when one day Louis comes home covered in bruises, his lip split, and his cheekbone grazed and bleeding down his neck. But Louis just assures Marcel that this is all part of it, that Marcel can’t do anything to help him, that he doesn’t actually need help in the first place.
They’re at a club again, a Friday night after Louis had picked Marcel up from university, and Marcel feels jumpy. The crowd looks . . . Sharper than the others in the clubs Louis had taken him to. This crowd is filled with hooded eyes, either from drugs, lust, or anger, and Marcel feels like a flickering candle amidst their dark cloud. Marcel could feel hungry eyes on him from every direction, and he just hoped that Louis would notice if any of these unsavoury characters decided to close in on him.
Marcel craned his head over the dancing bodies and he could see Louis in deep conversation with some guy with dreadlocks. They looked like they were making some kind of deal, and Louis shook the guy’s hand, but Marcel could see that there was something in his hand that he had passed to the guy. Marcel swallowed thickly but felt a little wave of relief as Louis nodded at the guy and began to make his way back to Marcel. It seemed that Marcel’s relief was to be short lived though as the guy suddenly caught Louis’ arm and nodded towards a side door that probably leads to a back room. Marcel hoped Louis wouldn’t go; he was panicking enough without completely losing sight of Louis. But to his dismay Louis flicked one glance at Marcel before following the guy into the back room.
Marcel started to panic, and like a shark catching the scent of blood, a heavily tattooed man started to zero in on where Marcel sat at a booth alone. The tall man slipped in beside Marcel and Marcel felt his imposing presence like a physical weight on his shoulders. Marcel wasn’t used to feeling small, he usually crouched because he always felt a little too tall around other people, but this man made Marcel feel tiny and vulnerable.
The man gave him a sharp grin and sat facing him so his back blocked Marcel’s view of the rest of the club.
“Hey there, specs, what’s your name?” The man smirked.
“M-Marcel,” Marcel stuttered out, fighting not to let his tremors become obvious; he had a feeling they would be like waving a red flag at a bull with this guy.
“I’m David. Can I buy you a drink?” David asked, his hand somehow finding its way onto Marcel’s thigh, Marcel looked at it and could feel his heart speed up, fear a cold poison in his veins.
“I-I-” Marcel cut himself off. He’d been about to tell this man that he was already here with someone, but he had a feeling that that wouldn’t deter him. He needed David busy so that he could slip away and hopefully find Louis. “Yeah, p-please,” Marcel stammered out, forcing a smile onto his lips. David flashed him a sharp smirk before squeezing his thigh and leaving to head to the bar. Marcel waited for a second, breathing deep, and then made a bolt for the door Louis had gone through. He found himself in a hallway, and he braced his hand on the wall to steady himself, before continuing on down its length. He found another doorway and pushed through nervously. Loud voices and laughter floated through the door, and no one glanced at him twice as he slipped into the room. He managed to locate Louis across the room, and just as he took a breath to call across to him, that breath caught in his throat and died. Louis was leaning down face first to a table, a rolled up bit of paper or something at his nose, and he began to steadily sniff up a white powder from the surface of the table.
Marcel’s heart seemed to twist within his chest. He knew Louis was involved in drugs, he knew that, and had kind of accepted it. But seeing Louis snort what was obviously Cocaine, even to Marcel’s inexperienced mind, made it suddenly hard to breathe. Marcel knew that was a bad drug, not like smoking weed, and he knew he didn’t want Louis doing it. The problem was that he has no say in Louis’ actions.
Marcel turned and slipped from the room before Louis could see him, and he made his way outside, breathing in the cold air desperately. He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialled Harry’s number but it was switched off. Marcel panicked for a second, terrified he’d have to ring his mum and probably get the bollocking of a lifetime, but then he remembered he had real friends now. He scrolled through and found Liam’s name, pressing it with numb finger tips. He bit his lip nervously, worried that Liam would be mad since it’s 2:30 in the morning.
“Hello? Marcel?” Liam asked, his voice deeper with sleep and Marcel’s face dropped in guilt.
“I’m so, so sorry I woke you up! I just didn’t know who else to ring,” Marcel whined, pulling his glasses from his face and massaging his nose tiredly.
“No it’s ok, really. What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Liam asked, worry lacing his voice.
“I’m kinda stuck at this club. I came with Louis but . . . He . . . I just don’t wanna leave with him. Could you maybe . . . Pick me up?” Marcel asked weakly with a wince, feeling terrible about this.
“Yeah sure, what’s the club?” Liam said easily, as if it was no problem for him to save Marcel at half past 2 in the morning when he’d been sleeping. So Marcel rattled off the name of the club and what he knew of its whereabouts and Liam hung up telling him he’d be twenty minutes at most.
When Liam pulled up in front of Marcel, he slipped into the back seat since Niall was slumped in the front seat.
“I brought Niall in case you needed to be cheered up or in case you were in trouble and I needed back up,” Liam explained with a smirk, “But he fell asleep,” Liam chuckled, looking over at Niall fondly.
“I’m really sorry about this, Liam,” Marcel said sadly, twisting his hands together. Liam looked over the seat and smiled at him reassuringly before turning around and starting to drive again.
“It’s absolutely fine, mate. It’s what friends are for. I’m guessing you need somewhere to stay tonight? We have a spare couch-bed if you want?” Liam offered and Marcel almost teared up at how amazing Liam was being to him.
“Yeah please,” Marcel whispered and Liam merely nodded and continued on to his house. Marcel pulled his phone from his pocket and sent a quick text to Louis saying he’d gone home because he’d felt really sick and he hadn’t been able to find Louis before he went. Marcel felt bad for lying but compared to what Louis had done, he figured he could get away with it.
When they pulled up outside the student houses, Liam shook Niall but the blond boy refused to wake up. Marcel and Liam left the car and as Marcel began wandering to the front door of Liam and Niall’s house, Liam opened Niall’s door and scooped him out. Niall clung to Liam like an overly-large koala, wrapping his arms around Liam’s neck and his legs around his hips, Liam’s hands holding onto Niall’s bum and thighs to keep him up. Marcel thought that it was a good thing Liam was so fit or he’d never be able to carry Niall like that.
“My keys are in my back pocket, could you grab them?” Liam whispered, cautious not to wake up his housemates. Marcel nodded and cautiously pulled out the keys and opened the door, letting Liam in with his hands full of Niall, before walking in himself and locking the door behind him.
He followed Liam upstairs where Liam deposited Niall on their double bed. Niall curled up in the covers and was snoring loudly in seconds, Liam rolled his eyes fondly and turned back to Marcel.
“Here, our couch turns into a bed,” Liam explained and wandered over to the couch that sat at the other end of the room, a little T.V. beside it. Liam pulled it out and piled pillows and blankets on top. Marcel crawled in gratefully with a deep sigh. Liam didn’t go to bed though, he sat at the bottom of the sofa bed and placed a hand on Marcel’s knee. “You gonna talk to me about what happened?” He murmured, his face open and understanding,
“Maybe in the morning, if that’s okay?” Marcel asked timidly, feeling exhaustion pressing on the back of his neck. Liam nodded and gave Marcel a quick side hug before padding off to climb into his own bed, switching off the light as he pulled up his covers.
Marcel laid there for a long time but eventually exhaustion won out.
HARRY’S POV
When Harry woke up, it was in Zayn’s bed again, and yet again the other side of the bed was empty. He sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes sleepily and glancing at the clock to see that it was 11am. He’d slept in late since they hadn’t gotten home until late last night. Harry grinned sharply at the memory of Zayn’s face when Harry had danced in that club. He was really bloody proud of himself. Zayn had been all over him, had even held his hand despite the fact that they were in public, although that had to do mostly with his apparent jealousy of Ben. Harry actually hadn’t thought about the fact that Zayn may be jealous of Ben, he’d never thought of the implications after his date with Ben.
Harry heard the shower going and decided to push the limits of his self-imposed sex-ban. He padded into the bathroom on silent feet, slipping off the pair of Zayn’s boxers he’d borrowed last night, and opening the shower door silently. Zayn felt the cool breeze that the open door let in, but by the time he’d rubbed the water out of his eyes and turned around with a bleary gaze, Harry was happily stood behind him, the shower door once again closed. His eyes widened slightly and he looked down Harry’s body appreciatively.
“Morning,” Harry murmured, stepping forwards to press their bare fronts together, holding back his shiver as he felt Zayn tense and huff out a breath.
“Morning,” Zayn replied, his voice tight with restraint, and Harry smiled, reaching down to grab Zayn’s hands, placing them on his hips.
“You can touch me, you know? Touching me isn’t sex,” Harry smiled against Zayn’s jaw, kissing the stubbled skin there. Zayn’s hands quickly took advantage, sliding down and grasping Harry’s bum firmly, pulling forwards so their groins pressed together, making them both shudder.
“Fuck, Harry,” Zayn muttered, jaw clenched. “You do realise you’re waving a steak in front of a hungry dog, right?” He groaned, teeth nipping at Harry’s jaw, creating sharp little stings that he then soothed over with his tongue.
“Hmmm . . . How hungry are you?” Harry whispered in Zayn’s ear, his voice breathless and overtly sexual, and Harry smirked when he felt a definite jump in Zayn’s groin region.
“You have no idea, baby,” Zayn murmured in Harry’s ear, making him shudder in delight. Harry pulled back and caught Zayn’s mouth with his own in a hungry kiss that left him gasping for breath, having forgotten to breathe. “What are you doing to me?” Zayn almost whimpered into his mouth and Harry grinned sharply, nipping at Zayn’s full lower lip with his teeth.
“Showing you what you’ll miss,” Harry whispered, so quietly that the shower nearly stole from Zayn’s ears and washed it down the drain.
“Fuck,” Zayn let out on an exhale, eyes wide and full of so much emotion that Harry didn’t even know where to begin to describe it.
“Do you still think you’d be better off settling down with some pretty blonde girl, getting married and popping out kids?” Harry asked, going for bravado but there was a tremor under his voice, a desperate need to know if any of this was actually helping, if it was actually making Zayn understand that what was between them wasn’t just a ‘phase’ or a bit of ‘experimentation’ in university. Zayn was silent for a few breathless seconds and Harry felt the silence like a hand around his throat.
“Probably. It’d be easier, anyway . . .” Harry felt his chest tighten at the words, ready to turn around and leave the house without looking back, “But maybe I don’t want easy,” Zayn finished in a whisper, and Harry felt every muscle in his body tense.
“And what . . . What do you mean by that?” Harry let out, his voice choked and breathless, trying too hard to be casual. He needed the elaboration, he needed every bit of detail Zayn could possibly give him, because this wasn’t a game, hadn’t been a game for a long time.
“I don’t . . . I don’t fucking know, Harry!” Zayn almost shouted, lifting a hand to scrub through his wet hair, leaving it in dishevelled spikes that Harry wanted to smooth over, but restrained himself, knowing this wasn’t exactly the moment for such a gesture.
“I need you to explain it to me, Zayn. I can’t do this forever,” Harry said back, his voice so strangely quiet after Zayn’s outburst. Zayn opened his mouth as if to speak but closed it again, searching Harry’s eyes for something that Harry didn’t know what.
“I love you. I can’t even begin to explain how much. I didn’t even notice that you’d actually become so important to me,” Zayn started, his eyes wide and almost guileless, like he needed Harry to see his honesty. “I can’t . . . I thought about what it’d be like, to see you with another guy and I was so . . . angry. I was so pissed off and jealous, and I couldn’t deal with that. I can’t deal with the thought of you kissing another guy, never mind sleeping with another guy. Ben pissed me off because I could see how well you got on and how much chemistry you had, and then how much he’d enjoy showing you off to other people. I couldn’t help but think ‘why is he even trying to be with me?’ because I’m just not an easy ride with this shit, but you being with Ben makes sense,” Zayn continued, and Harry had to butt in, had to make Zayn understand.
“It’s never been like that with Ben, Zayn. We could never actually be in a relationship because we were never jealous, never possessive. I could have fucked some random guy in front of him and the only reaction he would have had would be to film it. It was never how it is with us. The . . . need, the jealousy. I’ve never wanted to possess someone as much as I have you, and I know that sounds weird because you aren’t an object but I honestly just wanted to stamp my name over your forehead so no one else would go near you,” Harry giggled and Zayn rubbed their noses together softly.
“I can’t let you go,” Zayn murmured, looking into Harry’s eyes with a determination that squeezed Harry’s chest tight.
“Then don’t. Just . . . Show me that this means something, that I’m not just part of your ‘gay phase’ that you’ll laugh about when you’re 40 and married to some leggy blond with big tits,” Harry said, trying to lighten the mood, but his face was open, was filled with hope and fear. He knew Zayn could see how much Harry needed him to talk about this, needed him to reassure him. Zayn glanced to where his hands sat on Harry’s hips, the 3 burnished silver rings that Zayn always wore, biting into his skin a little with Zayn’s tight hold. Zayn brought one hand up and pulled off the ring that was a simple band, and reached for Harry’s own hand.
“This isn’t some marriage shit or some ‘together forever’ bull. This is just . . . a promise that you mean a lot to me, that I’ll . . . that I’ll get to the stage one day where I’ll hold your hand as we walk down the street and kiss you in crowded rooms for everyone to see. That I’m not giving up on this and I’m not going to hide this away like it’s a dirty little secret. I just need time, and until then you can tell people you have a boyfriend, and you can say this is his ring, and that he loves you with all his heart. And then someday I’ll even let you put a face to the word boyfriend, when I get the courage to come out as him,” Zayn finished, having slipped that ring onto Harry’s right hand, the opposite finger to his ring finger. Harry squeezed his hand tight into a fist, feeling the metal heavy and comforting against his skin. He couldn’t catch his breath at first, couldn’t decide what to do with any of his limbs, how to move his lips or form words on his tongue. When he finally managed to gather a bit of sense- Zayn having stood silently, examining his face throughout the silence- he threw his arms around Zayn’s neck and hugged him tight, pressing his lips to the skin at the side of Zayn’s neck, and Zayn hugged him back tightly, his fingers digging into the pale skin of Harry’s back.
“I love you,” Harry whispered, it was the first time he’d said the words, and he liked the taste of them on his tongue.
Notes:
I'm going to aim for one update a week, so i promise i wont take as long as i did this time. I hope you guys liked this chapter, please please please comment your thoughts even if they're only small!
As always, my tumblr is http://thedeliciousrude.tumblr.com/ and you guys can come talk to me/ask questions/submit a prompt there, i love it when you guys come talk to me :) xXx
Chapter 12: I Wrap My Hands Around Your Neck So Tight With Love, Love, Love
Summary:
Chapter title is from 'Up In The Air' by 30 Seconds to Mars.
Notes:
Sorry for the wait! I've had a lot of Uni work lately :/
Just couple things;
All the information about drugs is legit, i do no take or sell them myself but i have a very reliable source whom i pumped for information so that this would be realistic.
Also, after this chapter there are only going to be 1 or 2 more chapters, depending upon how i write it, so we're actually coming close to the end! You guys have been amazing <3
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
MARCEL’S POV
When he woke up to the sound of Niall’s laughter, Marcel felt a wave of sadness hit his chest and fist in his stomach. This shouldn’t have happened. He should’ve never had to get Liam to come save him. He was supposed to be learning his independence, and instead he’d put himself in a position where he had desperately needed help. He shouldn’t have trusted Louis, Harry had warned him from the beginning not to, and he hadn’t listened. He’d been an idiot to think he could handle someone like Louis.
Marcel sat up and Liam gave him a big smile as soon as he saw, and what Marcel didn’t expect was Niall running over and tackling him with a tight hug that stole his breath.
“Are you okay?” Niall asked with concern as he finally let go and let Marcel sit back up.
“Erm, yeah?” Marcel said breathlessly and Liam laughed quietly.
“Forgive him, he gets a little over friendly when he’s worried about someone,” Liam said, pulling on a clean t-shirt. Niall stuck his middle finger up at Liam with a pout and Liam simply chuckled in response.
“But really, though? Liam told me about how you had to leave Louis last night,” Niall said carefully, his blue eyes wide and earnest as they gazed into Marcel’s. Marcel sighed and reached over to grab his glasses off of the table, slipping them on with a sad expression.
“I guess . . . I’m just sad that it’s not working out, you know? I really liked him, still do. But I can’t be with someone who’s so . . . destructive,” Marcel said quietly and Niall slung an arm around his shoulders comfortingly.
“What did he do?” Niall asked gently and Marcel felt himself pale.
“I guess I had the misfortune of dating a crack head,” Marcel said bluntly and he saw Niall visibly flinch at the venom in his voice. “He was snorting coke in the club last night, he doesn’t know I saw him. I left without telling him,” Marcel continued.
“Damn,” Niall murmured sympathetically. Liam gave him a sad smile and handed him a glass of water that Marcel took gratefully. He swallowed the whole glass before standing with a sigh, feeling weary, and a heaviness in his bones that made him slouch more than usual. He slipped the glass onto the side carefully.
“I’m gonna head home, thank you for last night, Liam, it meant a lot to me,” Marcel said carefully, embarrassed but needing Liam to understand how grateful he was.
“I can give you a lift-” Liam began to protest but Marcel cut him off with a gentle smile.
“It’s fine, Liam, really. I’m gonna walk. I kinda need some time to think right now,” Marcel said and he knew his eyes reflected his sadness. Liam nodded and came over to give him a quick but tight hug, Niall following with a much longer, clingier hug that made Marcel giggle a little despite his heavy heart.
Marcel left with a few more goodbyes and started the long walk home, the morning air cold against his cheeks. He needed to make a decision before he got himself into a lot of trouble.
HARRY’S POV
He and Zayn had spent all of yesterday and last night practically glued together. After Zayn had given him his ring, Harry had felt so overwhelmed with happiness, but it was the morning after and to be honest, Harry realised nothing had actually changed.
Maybe he had thought getting Zayn to accept it on some level would be enough, but . . . All Harry could think about was endless days, months, maybe even years of waiting for Zayn to be ready to kiss him in public. Harry couldn’t stand it, the thought that even though Zayn had told him he wasn’t a dirty little secret; he still felt like one.
Zayn was still asleep beside him, not surprising with how late they’d stayed up, and Harry played with the ring on his finger, looking down at Zayn with a sad smile.
This . . . Wasn’t going to work. Harry could feel it. He could almost see the exact look on Zayn’s face when months from now he’d still maintain that he was going to change ‘someday’. And ‘someday’ would just never come. So Harry got up from the bed, slipped the ring from his finger, teeth biting hard onto his lower lip, and placed it on the nightstand. He got dressed silently and left without a word. He just couldn’t face the thought of waking Zayn up and seeing his face.
The thing is, love isn’t enough. Just because you love someone doesn’t mean you’re going to work out or that you should be together. And Harry couldn’t bare the thought that they’d become so toxic for each other that maybe one day Zayn would resent him for making him change.
Harry couldn’t wait around forever, especially for something that may never happen.
As he left the house, locking the door behind him, he finally switched his phone back on and found a bunch of missed calls from Marcel. He quickly tapped his name and lifted the phone to his ear, trying to ignore the tight feeling in his chest that got worse with every step he took away from Zayn’s house.
“Hello?” Marcel’s voice came over the phone.
“Hey, are you okay?” Harry asked quickly, kind of worried that Marcel may have needed him.
“Erm . . . I don’t know. I, um, I had to ditch Louis last night at a club,” Marcel answered in a small voice.
“What? Why? What the hell did he do? And how did you get home? Are you okay?” Harry blurted, walking faster towards his house.
“I’m okay. Liam picked me up and I stayed at his for the night, I just got home. Erm . . . Louis was snorting coke,” Marcel practically whispered the final part, and Harry had to concentrate to understand him. When he understood he felt his hand tighten around the phone.
“That fucking wanker! I’m going to fucking kill him! I warned him to keep that shit away from you! And what the hell does he think he’s doing?! He told us he was off of that shit!” Harry raged, taking deep breaths to attempt to calm down.
“You knew he took it?” Marcel asked softly and Harry winced.
“It was a while back, Marcey, we thought he was clean, thought he had been for a few years now,” Harry explained, his voice gentle now, knowing his brother was so hurt.
“No, he’s very clearly still doing it. I didn’t even tell him I’d left. I just . . . went. I couldn’t be around him like that,” Marcel finished, his voice small and sad.
“Look, I’m just walking around the corner so I’ll be home soon,” Harry reassured him and they said a quick ‘see you soon’, hanging up the phone.
As Harry walked up his front path and opened the front door, his phone buzzed with a text-
ZAYN: Hey, where are you? Why’d you leave your ring? We okay, haz? Xxxx
Harry took a deep breath and forced back the tears that pricked at his eyes, pocketing his phone without replying, and entering his house. He took off his shoes and coat, running upstairs to Marcel’s room. He opened the door without knocking and flung himself on Marcel’s bed- and also the duvet-wrapped body of his little brother.
“Hey,” Marcel murmured as Harry slipped under the covers and wrapped himself around his brother’s body, the big spoon.
“Hey,” Harry replied, his voice thick with the tears he was fighting.
“What happened?” Marcel whispered, moving his hand to lace his fingers with Harry’s.
“I . . . I’ve left Zayn. He doesn’t really know, I guess, but I have,” Harry whispered back, his throat thick, his voice husky.
“Why?” Marcel asked, his voice sad but free of any judgement, and Harry let a few tears slip out, leaning forwards to place an affectionate kiss on the back of Marcel’s head.
“It just wasn’t going to work, you know? . . . He gave me a ring,” The second part was barely a breath of air, but Marcel heard. He tensed and turned over so the almost identical brothers were now on their sides facing each other, their hands now interlocked between their chests.
“A ring?” Marcel asked, his eyes wide in surprise.
“Not like an engagement ring. He said it was a promise that one day he’d change, that one day he’d publicly call me his boyfriend but . . .” Harry had to pause, the pain too much, and he scrunched his eyes up in an effort to stem some of the tears.
“But you were afraid ‘one day’ would never come,” Marcel finished for him and Harry nodded.
“It was like I could see it happening. He’s . . . He’s never going to be ready, you know? And I can’t just wait around for a ‘maybe’,” Harry finished, tightening his fingers around Marcel’s seeking comfort. Marcel moved closer in response.
“I think I’m going to tell Louis that it’s over,” Marcel confided and Harry nodded without surprise. He knew this would happen, and he hated that it had obviously caused his little brother so much pain.
“I figured. I’m sorry that it ended up like this,” Harry said, giving him a sad, lop-sided smile.
“I’m surprised you didn’t say ‘I told you so’. And I’m sorry about you and Zayn, too,” Marcel offered, giving his hand a quick squeeze.
“I . . . I really love him. I just . . . can’t,” Harry replied helplessly, the tears coming quicker now. That was when they heard their mum calling Harry’s name. Maybe it was stupid that Harry hadn’t expected Zayn to come over and find out what was happening, but he was utterly shocked to see Zayn stood at the bottom of the stairs, his face tight with pain and determination. Harry stared at him for a second before jerking his head upstairs in the direction of his bedroom. Zayn followed him into his room, shutting the door behind them softly.
“Why are you doing this, Harry?” Zayn said softly, like he was afraid to raise his voice, like it would break something if he did.
“I can’t do this, Zayn. It shouldn’t hurt this bad. I can’t wait around for you,” Harry said helplessly, scrubbing a hand over his tear-damp face.
“You aren’t even giving me a fucking chance,” Zayn replied, eyes intense but his voice was still whisper soft.
“I just . . . I need some space. I need time, Zayn. I need to decide whether or not I believe that you’ll change, because right now I really don’t think you will,” Harry said, his voice blunt, but tears were steadily falling from his big green eyes.
“This is bullshit, Harry. You . . . You aren’t allowed to force me to admit how I feel, and then just run away yourself because it’s hard. That’s not fair, Harry,” Zayn’s voice broke on his name, and a tear escaped Zayn’s control, streaking down his face slowly. Harry walked closer to him, almost unable to stay away, and lifted his hands to cup the sides of Zayn’s face.
“I love you. So, so fucking much. But love isn’t enough. Not right now. I need something that you can’t give me right now, Zayn,” Harry said, his voice filled with pain, his eyes squeezed shut, unable to face the pain in Zayn’s eyes. So he didn’t see it when Zayn leant forwards, and maybe that’s a good thing. He felt Zayn’s lips on his and expected passion, denial, determination. Instead he felt soft lips wet with tears, salty on his tongue, gentle, begging, loving. He kissed Zayn back with all of his love, with his sadness and heart ache. It was the kind of kiss he’d never forget, and it struck him then that this was probably their last kiss, and that made it all the more painful. A ragged sob tore up his throat and he sobbed into Zayn’s mouth and Zayn reached up to stroke his cheeks with his thumbs, brushing away tears that were immediately replaced by new ones.
“I love you so much,” Zayn whispered into his mouth, and Harry sobbed again, clutching to the material of Zayn’s t-shirt with desperate fingers.
“I love you too,” Harry choked out. Zayn leant forwards and kissed Harry on the forehead softly, before turning around and leaving without another word. Harry literally fell to the floor, his chest hurting with the strength of his sobs. A few minutes later, Marcel rushed into his room, wrapping him up tight in his arms, keeping the last little shreds of Harry together. “I didn’t think he’d leave so easy,” Harry sobbed into Marcel’s shoulder.
“Harry . . .That wasn’t easy for him. He was doing it because he loves you and he’s trying to do what you want, he’s trying to make you happy,” Marcel said carefully and Harry scrubbed his face roughly to wipe away the tears, attempting to regain control of himself.
“I know I just . . . I know I’m making the right decision I just wish he could talk me out of it,” Harry whispered and Marcel nodded before standing up and pulling Harry with him.
“Come on, I think you have a fair excuse to sit in bed all day and watch movies,” Marcel said with a soft smile and Harry nodded gratefully. Harry sighed before hugging his brother tightly.
“Thank you for this, little bro,” Harry murmured and he could feel Marcel’s smile against his neck.
“You’ve always been there for me, I’m just trying to return the favour.”
MARCEL’S POV
When it got to around 7pm, Marcel couldn’t handle it anymore, and looked at his mobile. He had hundreds of missed calls and texts from Louis. He sighed and quickly typed out a message to him.
-Can I come over to yours? We need to talk.
He knew it was disgustingly clichéd but what else could he have said? There’s a reason it’s clichéd after all. Louis’s text came literally a couple of seconds later.
LOUIS: Yes! R U ok? Where did U go? Xxx
-I’ll be around in a few minutes
Marcel couldn’t do any of this over the phone, it was hard enough to think about this, never mind attempt to write it down in orderly sentences. His mum dropped him off at Louis’ with a sad smile; she’d found out why Harry was crying and Marcel had admitted that he was probably going to break it off with Louis too. His mum had calmly responded with; “So I’ll have two heartbroken baby boys? I’ll make a run to the shop for ice cream and chocolate on my way home, and I’m sure Harry won’t complain if I rent us a few sappy movies to watch on the couch.” Marcel had told her not to worry about picking him up, that he’d get a taxi if Louis couldn’t drive him home- he didn’t mention the fact that Louis may just be pissed off and refuse to drive him anywhere.
When Louis let Marcel into the house, Marcel hesitantly took a seat on his couch, Louis sitting next to him but with a wide enough margin that they wouldn’t accidently touch.
“Why’d you leave?” Louis murmured without even a hello.
“I saw, Lou,” Marcel sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair- it was soft and wavy since he hadn’t bothered gelling it today.
“Saw what?” Louis asked, his face a mask of calm that Marcel knew was a lie.
“I saw you in the back room. You never told me you did coke, Louis. That was something I deserved to know,” Marcel answered, his voice hard, but his fingers were trembling where he had them clasped between his knees.
“I don’t . . . I don’t do coke, Marcel,” Louis sighed, his mask slipping away to leave a tired expression.
“I saw you, Louis. Can you just stop lying to me? Can you just be honest for once? I’m so fed up of this!” Marcel burst out, gesturing wildly with his hands.
“I don’t fucking do coke! Okay? I had to fucking do it,” Louis shouted back, jerkily adjusting the strap of his loose black vest, a nervous fidget that Marcel felt shocked to notice. Louis wasn’t exactly a nervous person.
“I don’t believe you. Why would have to do it, Lou? It’s not like you’re too afraid to stand up for yourself,” Marcel snapped, shocked at the tone of his voice, but knowing that this had all gone too far, that he couldn’t just back down this time. It was time to man the fuck up and deal with this.
“He was a customer and he wanted me to prove the product was legit, said he didn’t trust Markus not to cut it with a shit load of allergy tablets or Lidocaine,” Louis sighed and Marcel felt a little lost, he didn’t really know what Louis was talking about and it made him even more irritated. Louis noticed and started to explain. “Coke is usually cut with something else- mixed with something else- because not many people can afford to buy it pure, you know? One gram of cut coke costs like £30 but one gram of pure can cost like £70 to £80. This guy wanted 3 grams of pure but didn’t trust that Markus- my employer- had kept it pure. You can usually tell when it’s been cut because of the way the person is effected and how long it takes until the drug kicks in. Like if it’s cut with Lidocaine then it makes your face numb, so you’ll see people in clubs just randomly flicking their own face trying to feel it,” Louis finished and Marcel looked at him wide-eyed for a few seconds, trying to process all of this information.
“Why are you working for this . . . this Markus guy?” Marcel asked finally. Louis looked at him, and he seemed to be deciding something.
“I owe him a debt,” Louis said, and it was obvious that he wasn’t going to articulate upon that. Marcel nodded, deciding to leave that one for now.
“We can’t . . . We can’t be together,” Marcel forced out, feeling like he’d been punched in the stomach.
“Why not?” Louis asked, moving closer to him until his chest was pressed to Marcel’s side.
“Because you lie to me, you’re a drug dealer, and you don’t actually care about me,” Marcel replied breathlessly.
“I’ve just told you everything. And I’m not a drug dealer by choice, and it won’t be for too much longer. And I care about you a hell of a lot, Dimples, I’m just shit at showing it. I’ve been trying to keep you out of this mess,” It seemed that Louis changed his mind then, his face went from seductive to worried, and he began to back off, but Marcel acted on instinct and leant closer to him, slotting their lips together in a desperate, unpractised kiss. Louis still attempted to back away, but Marcel turned his body so he was kneeling on the couch, facing Louis, his hands now on either side of his face. Louis moaned and fell into the kiss then and Marcel moved them as carefully as possible until he was straddling Louis’s hips, Louis now laid on his back beneath him. Louis’s hands were tight on Marcel’s hips and he pulled him down as he grinded his hips up into Marcel’s, making Marcel moan softly into his mouth.
Marcel knew this was a bad idea, knew he should be leaving, not kissing Louis. But he knew he’d regret it if they never had this, if he never took this chance, so he simply kissed Louis harder. Louis pushed at Marcel’s hips and in his surprise Marcel easily slipped off of him and stood beside the couch, when he realised what he’d done, he went to protest but Louis quickly stood and grabbed Marcel’s hand, pulling him towards the bedroom.
Louis pushed Marcel down onto the bed and grabbed his ankles, pulling sharply so Marcel’s legs were spread and ready to cradle his hips. As soon as Louis landed on top of him, Marcel wrapped his legs around his hips, pulling him closer as his arms wrapped around his shoulders. Their mouths met again in a frenzied clash of lips and teeth and tongue, heavy breaths and throaty moans.
Louis removed Marcel’s clothes before Marcel even caught on to what he was doing, but Marcel only reacted by eagerly tugging at Louis’ clothes in an attempt to remove them. Louis let out a frustrated moan and stood up despite Marcel’s whine of protest. He quickly shucked his own clothes before opening a bedside drawer and pulling out a bottle of lube, his eyes seemed to catch on something else that was in the drawer but before Marcel could ask, Louis was back on him. Louis petted and caressed until Marcel was almost at the point of demanding Louis to touch him where it counted. But thankfully Louis slipped a lube covered hand down to wrap around his length, tugging at it slowly, tormenting Marcel with that knowing little half smirk that Marcel wanted to slap off of his face.
“You’re . . . Such . . . A . . . Fucking . . . Twat,” Marcel let out between pants and Louis laughed throatily.
“Such a dirty mouth on you, Dimples. I haven’t corrupted you, have I?” Louis asked with mock innocence, his blue eyes wide and shining with mirth and lust. Marcel gave a pointed look down at where Louis’s hand was wrapped around his cock and Louis let out a sharp bark of laughter before leaning down to kiss Marcel, stealing what little air Marcel had managed to capture. His hand began to speed up and when he removed it, Marcel whimpered in utter despair, desperate now. Louis kissed him gently, reassuringly, and that’s when his hand began to move back. As his fingers brushed Marcel’s entrance, Marcel tensed a little in panic, and Louis brought up his other hand to stroke Marcel’s cheekbone softly, kissing random areas on his face. Marcel Looked up into Louis’ eyes as Louis began to slip his fingers inside of him, and he blushed crimson red. As Louis prepped him, Marcel tried to focus on Louis’ eyes, on the different colours and patterns, instead of on the slight burning pain caused by Louis’ fingers. When Louis had gotten him to where he needed to be, managing to pull a few happy gasps from Marcel’s lips in the process, he pulled his fingers out and pressed his lips back to Marcel’s.
When Louis began manhandling him until he face the headboard, Louis at his back, he went easily. Louis placed Marcel’s hands on the wall, palms spread wide, and when he pulled his hands away, Marcel kept them there obediently, feeling exposed and nervous but for once he felt in control of his anxiety- he felt like he could easily just let Louis take that burden for him.
Louis moved off of the bed then, but when Marcel attempted to turn his head and look, Louis' fingers were firm on his jaw.
“Don’t turn.” Louis’s voice was firm, a command, and Marcel wouldn’t dare disobey him right now. He patiently waited, eyes locked on the wall in front of him, until the feel of cold metal at the small of his back made him jump, but he still didn’t turn to look. “Are you really sure you want to do this, Dimples?” Louis purred in his ear, his naked chest only a breath away from Marcel’s back, the unidentified metal object between them.
“Yeah,” Marcel breathed, nodding jerkily.
“Really?” Louis asked softly, seductively, dragging the metal object slowly up and down Marcel’s spine. Marcel shivered delicately at the feeling.
“Yes,” Marcel replied, swallowing thickly. Louis began to drag the metal object around his hip then until finally it rested against his lower stomach. Marcel finally looked down and his entire body tensed in fear.
“You really sure you want to be a part of this?” Louis whispered, and there was an edge of sadness in his voice, an edge of regret that he had to show this side of himself to Marcel. Marcel could feel his body trembling in fear, but he knew that he couldn’t back down. He knew Louis wanted to scare him; Louis hadn’t seemed to have gotten over his ‘no sex’ thing, hadn’t gotten over his insistence that Marcel wasn’t ready to be that involved with him. So Marcel took a deep breath and lowered his hand to stroke over the skin of the hand Louis was holding the gun with. He didn’t touch the gun, but he played in the dips and hollows of Louis’s hand, and relaxed his body backwards so that his back was pressed to Louis’s front.
“Yes,” Marcel whispered and he felt Louis shudder behind him, and then lips were gently kissing his shoulder as Louis pulled the gun away and slipped it back into the drawer where he’d gotten the lube from. Louis moved about behind him and Marcel guessed he was slicking up his length because a few seconds later he was pressing against Marcel’s entrance carefully, almost asking permission, so Marcel nodded jerkily and placed both hands back on the wall in front of him for support.
As Louis pushed in, Marcel’s eyes burned with tears and he was soon gritting his teeth as they fell down his cheeks.
“Shh, baby. I know. I promise it gets better. I’m sorry. Do you want to stop?” Louis murmured in his ear, pausing his motions though it must be hard for him.
“N-no. I’m okay,” Marcel replied haltingly, taking deep breath and trying to calm himself so his body could adjust.
“You aren’t okay, baby,” Louis murmured, kissing the side of his neck, his shoulder, any skin he could reach.
“I’ll be okay, then,” Marcel replied with a tentative smile and he felt Louis’s answering smile against the skin of his shoulder. “I’m ready,” Marcel murmured and he saw Louis nod out of the corner of his eye.
Louis began to move again slowly, and it burned just as badly, but slowly it began to lessen, until it just felt a little strange. Marcel wasn’t really seeing the appeal to this, until Louis changed the angle of his hips and seemed to press against some magic button that sent shocks through Marcel’s abdomen, making him let out a choked moan that caused Louis to release a breathless chuckle. Marcel knew about his prostate and the logical aspect of all this- he was untried, not stupid- but it was very different in practice than it was in theory. Louis seemed to remember the angle that worked and continuously worked on it until Marcel was trembling and actually begging Louis to let him finish. When he came it was with a breathy cry of Louis’ name and fingers white knuckled on the bed frame. Louis finished a few moments later, pulling out of Marcel, causing him to wince.
Louis laid down next to Marcel’s spent, trembling body and finally yanked him so Marcel splayed across his chest.
“How the fuck am I supposed to deal with you now?” Louis asked in an exasperated voice to the world at large and Marcel giggled into his chest. Maybe Marcel could hang onto this for a little longer?
Notes:
i love your feedback, even if it's only a few words, so please please please leave a comment xXx
Chapter 13: So I Say Damn Your Kiss And The Awful Things You Do
Summary:
Chapter title is from 'Nicotine' by Panic! At The Disco :)
Notes:
This was a huge wait and i'm so sorry but i found it really hard to write this chapter since yes, it's the last one :(
It's been such an amazing experience writing this and talking to you guys, you've been absolutely amazing and i couldn't ask for better readers. I hope you enjoy this last chapter <3
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
LOUIS’ POV
When Louis woke up beside Marcel, he felt like a weight was crushing his chest. Marcel looked beautiful like this, his hair sleep tumbled, cheeks a soft pink. Louis knew that Marcel meant more to him than he should, more than Louis wanted to admit, and it terrified him. When Marcel’s green eyes opened to blink blearily up at him, a soft smile spreading on those pink lips, Louis almost couldn’t handle it. He leant forwards and kissed Marcel’s forehead gently, closing his eyes and sending up a prayer to any god who was listening that Marcel would never get hurt, especially not because of anything Louis did.
“You want some breakfast?” Louis murmured, stroking his fingers through the soft strands at Marcel’s temple, enjoying the slight blush that tinted the beautiful boy’s cheeks.
“Um, no. I’m gonna head home. Harry will be worried about me, I told him I’d be home last night,” Marcel explained and Louis nodded easily. He knew Harry was probably pissed at him, felt sad that he’d upset one of his closest friends, but at the end of the day it was what Marcel thought that mattered.
“Want me to give you a lift home?” Louis asked, slipping from the bed and walking- unashamedly naked- to find some clothes. He glanced back and grinned sharply at Marcel’s expression- a mixture of embarrassed and intrigued.
“Y-yeah, please,” Marcel finally stuttered out and Louis couldn’t help it, he walked back over to the bed after only getting his boxers on, and tugged Marcel into a deep kiss. Marcel was limp, letting Louis do with him what he pleased and Louis would be lying if he said he didn’t like that. He loved that Marcel trusted him at least enough to give control over to Louis. And maybe Louis thrived off of that power a little bit. Louis finally pulled away, dragging his teeth along Marcel’s lower lip, relishing in the breathless sounds that dripped from Marcel’s lips. He walked away to carry on getting dressed without another glance at Marcel, letting his timid lover get a grip of himself again. Louis was fully dressed when he felt Marcel’s arms wrap around his middle from behind, felt Marcel’s face nuzzle into his back.
“You want something, baby?” Louis murmured, looking back over his shoulder with a gentle smile.
“Nope. I’m happy enough right now,” Marcel replied, his eyes looking at Louis with a desperate kind of vulnerability that clamped around Louis’ heart and made itself a permanent place there. Louis turned so Marcel was crowded against his chest, and he pulled his face into his neck, pressing a loving kiss to Marcel’s temple.
“Me too, Dimples. Don’t run away again,” Louis felt the need to add, resting his lips against Marcel’s forehead, enjoying holding Marcel tight against him. Especially since all Marcel wore was a pair of Louis’ boxers and the pink imprints of bed sheets.
“Don’t give me a reason to,” Marcel whispered and Louis heard the begging edge, the need for Louis to let Marcel trust him for once. It was that moment, that tone in this boy’s voice, that made Louis realise he needed to change how he was doing things.
***
When Louis got back to his after dropping Marcel off at home- and dodging Harry’s death glares- he rang Zayn’s number with a twitchy feeling in his limbs.
-“Look, Louis. I’m really not in the fucking mood right now,” Zayn answered.
“I heard about you and Haz, I’m sorry,” Louis murmured back and he heart Zayn’s breathing stutter on the other end of the line.
-“Thanks. I . . . I don’t want to talk about it yet,” Zayn replied, his voice husky and low, like he couldn’t even bare to speak the words, didn’t want to acknowledge what had happened.
“Okay. I’ll be here when you’re ready. But until then, I need your help,” Louis said calmly and he felt Zayn’s pause, even over the phone.
-“This a ‘Team Zap!’ kind of situation?” Zayn asked softly, and Louis almost cried. Zayn had been the one to help him when he’d gotten in trouble years ago, and it meant everything that he was still as ready to drop everything and help him.
“Yeah, I think I need my partner in crime again,” Louis replied weakly, letting out a limp chuckle.
-“What have you gotten into, Lou?” Zayn murmured gently, and Louis’ fingers clenched on the phone.
“A whole lot of shit, mate. A whole lot of shit,” Louis sighed.
MARCEL’S POV
When Marcel followed Harry upstairs, he knew what was coming. As soon as the door shut to Harry’s bedroom, Harry spun and faced him with a thunderous expression.
“So what happened?” Harry asked, his brows pulled together in an angry frown.
“I stayed over,” Marcel said whilst looking everywhere but into Harry’s eyes. Harry’s hand came up to catch Marcel’s jaw and force him to meet his eyes.
“You fucked. Great. Marcel, I thought you said you were done with him?” Harry said bluntly and Marcel’s mouth dropped open a little as his face turned crimson with utter humiliation.
“How the hell do you know that?!” Marcel practically shrieked and Harry smirked.
“I know the ‘just-fucked’ look very well, thank you,” Harry replied primly and winked, losing a little of his ire in the process.
“Ew. And it’s none of your business anyway. We’ve worked stuff out, we’re gonna keep seeing each other,” Marcel said, trying to keep his voice neutral so Harry wouldn’t ask any more questions.
“If he messes you about again, I’m going to deck him,” Harry replied in an overly nice voice and Marcel just sighed and nodded in response, causing Harry to grin and pull him into a hug.
“So . . . You talked to Zayn?” Marcel asked carefully from where he rested against Harry’s shoulder, so he felt the sagging in Harry’s stature, the deep sigh, the feel of utter defeat that radiated from him.
“No. I don’t even know how to begin to speak to him again. I think we’re just going to have to leave each other alone for a while. He’s better off without me anyway,” Harry replied reluctantly, and Marcel had to force himself not to tell Harry that he was speaking utter bullshit. He knew Harry needed to work this out on his own, that Marcel probably wouldn’t be much help anyway, since his own relationship isn’t exactly squeaky clean.
ZAYN’S POV
When Louis told Zayn that he needed to get out of his deal with Markus, Zayn had known he was getting himself into trouble, but he still felt a wave of dread as he tucked one of Louis’ two guns into the back of his jeans, tugging his jumper down to cover it, the metal cold and malicious against his skin.
“You don’t have to do this,” Louis murmured for the sixth time.
“I was there last time, and I’ll be here this time, too,” Zayn replied, his gaze hard, brooking no argument.
The memory of last time brought visible pain to Louis’ eyes, but Zayn saw him mask it quickly enough. When they’d been basically kids, not even 15, Louis had gotten into a seriously bad crowd. He was pretty much an addict and he owed a lot of money to some dangerous people. When Louis had attempted to leave that life, one of his dealers had decided Louis needed an incentive to never try to walk away again. So he’d kidnapped Louis’ younger sister Fizzy. He’d kept Fizzy for just over a day, and beaten Louis to hell and back. Zayn had been the one to get the money off of a close cousin and made the deal with the guy to let Fizzy go. He’d finally given the traumatised young girl back, but he’d refused to admit where he was keeping Louis.
He’d beaten Louis for 2 more days. And when Louis had finally been given back to Zayn, his parents hadn’t even come to visit him in the hospital. Getting his sister kidnapped had lost Louis all of the love his parents had for him. They had kicked him out of their house and hadn’t spoken to him since. Louis had lived with Zayn and worked his arse off to pay Zayn’s cousin back, and he’d worked even harder to get a place of his own so that he wouldn’t be sponging off of Zayn or his family for any longer than he had to. He’d tried to give Zayn’s mum some money to repay her, but she’d refused to take it, loving Louis as much as she loved Zayn. But Louis hadn’t spoken to his family since, and under all those tattoos lay scars from three days of harsh beatings, that don’t even compare to the ones on Louis’ heart.
“Thank you,” Louis murmured and Zayn pressed a hard kiss to Louis’ temple before they set out for the warehouse.
LOUIS’ POV-
Louis knew that things weren’t going to go smoothly, and he wouldn’t have brought Zayn into it, but he’d needed back up if he had any chance of getting out alive. When they walked into the warehouse, Markus was seated with a few other guys, drinking beers on a couch.
“It’s basically morning; do you guys have no self control?” Louis asked with a snarky raised brow. Zayn slyly smacked him on the hip as a warning to curb the sarcasm and Louis nodded reluctantly at him in response.
“What do you want, Tomlinson?” Markus asked in a bored voice, taking another sip of his beer. Louis sucked in a deep breath and tried to exude confidence. He had a feeling he was failing miserably.
“I want out,” Louis said simply. Markus’ head shot up so fast he almost poured his beer down his top, his eyes narrowed on Louis’ face.
“That so?” Markus asked calmly, but his eyes sparked with anger.
“Yeah,” Louis said firmly, not backing down from Markus’ gaze. Markus reached for something and Louis tensed, knowing exactly where this was going. Markus now held his gun, letting it hang casually from the hands that rested between his knees. Louis forced himself to stay calm, to not reach for his own gun. If he did then he knew exactly how this would end, and he didn’t have any wishes to be taken away from here in a body bag.
“You owe me, Tomlinson. You can’t get off that easy,” Markus explained as if they were talking about the weather. Louis saw Zayn shoot him a look. Zayn didn’t know that Louis owed Markus a bit of money. Louis had been in debt with some worse guys and Markus had paid them off for him as long as Louis helped him out every now and then.
“I’ve been helping you out for a couple years now, Markus. I think my debt is paid here,” Louis replied firmly but civilly, trying to tamp down his anger.
“See, I don’t think it is. I think that if you try to walk out right now, you won’t live to see that pretty boyfriend of yours ever again,” Markus purred with a smug smile. And that was it. Markus had pretty much just let Louis know that he knew Marcel was his weakness. Even if he agreed to stay with Markus, Markus would use Marcel against him at some point in the future.
“You really wanna try that shit? Fucking come on then, Markus. Try,” Louis knew he had just rocked the boat, knew taunting Markus was a bad idea, but the thought of Marcel getting hurt had crumbled the walls that had caged his anger. Markus smirked at him before suddenly raising his gun and pointing it at Zayn. Louis didn’t even think, he reached his hand back and palmed his own gun, raising it and aiming for Markus, the shot went wild but it didn’t matter because it had distracted Markus enough that his own shot had missed Zayn by a large margin. Zayn dived to crouch behind one of the large wooden crates in the warehouse, screaming Louis’ name. But before Louis could make a run for cover, his felt something hit his shoulder and throw him down. Funny thing was that he felt no pain, just heard the sound of a shot and then Zayn’s yell. Louis hit the floor with a thud and looked down to see a red stain that seemed to be growing larger by the second, a small puddle forming around his shoulder. He thought that maybe he was in shock.
He looked up blearily to see Markus advancing on him, probably to finish him off, but Zayn’s voice stopped him from advancing any further or lifting his gun again. Zayn said something that Louis couldn’t focus on enough to understand, and Markus looked a little scared. Markus started to back off and Louis figured he’d forced his guys to too. Seconds later Zayn was grabbing Louis and pulling him up from the floor, and that was when the pain hit. Louis gritted his teeth hard but the scream tore through the gaps between his teeth. Zayn was murmuring things to him but he still couldn’t understand him, his vision almost whiting out from the pain. He felt Zayn bundling him into the back of Louis’ car and driving him somewhere, but lost consciousness before they got to their destination.
HARRY’S POV
When he opened his phone to find a video sent to him by Zayn, Harry wasn’t sure what to expect. When it started playing and all he saw was a black screen, he figured Zayn had accidently videoed in his pocket. He started to listen out of curiosity and maybe a little bit of desperation to know what Zayn was up to. He could hear voices but couldn’t make it out all that clearly until he heard Louis’ voice a little clearer over the others; ‘You really wanna try that shit? Fucking come on then, Markus. Try,’ and he began to seriously get worried.
And then he heard the shots and Zayn’s scream of Louis’ name and he started to hyperventilate. The phone was obviously being pulled out of the pocket then as shaking hands pointed the camera at a panting Markus who was standing over an obviously injured Louis.
“I have it all on camera, Markus. Step the fuck away from him,” came Zayn’s shaking voice.
“But if I kill you too then it doesn’t really matter, does it?” Markus smirked.
“The second I stop recording, this video gets sent to my friend who’ll ring the police if we don’t make it out of here alive,” Zayn’s voice was a little stronger this time, filled with intent and Harry saw the fear start to cross Markus’ face. Harry’s fingers turned white around the phone, and felt his whole body trembling as he silently begged that this video wouldn’t end in the death of either of his friends, especially when Louis’ fate already seemed to be in the balance.
“Fucking leave, then. Louis can have his freedom. But if you ever go to the police with that video then I have a lot of people who’ll gladly come put you out of your misery,” Markus said, his eyes burning with anger as he backed away. The camera then blurred a few times as Zayn ran over to Louis and started dragging him off of the ground and to what looked like Louis’ Golf. Zayn’s face came onto camera then, even though his gaze was on the road.
“I’m sorry, Harry, I’m so fucking sorry I had to send this to you, but you’re the only person I trust this much. I’m taking Louis to the hospital . . . I don’t know how bad he’s hurt, he’s bleeding so much and-” Zayn was cut off when his own crying choked his throat closed. He breathed deeply for a few moments before continuing. “C-can you come to the hospital? I need you and I’m fucking terrified and I d-don’t know what to do. Fuck. Just, I really fucking need you right now.” And then the video cut off and Harry was jumping from his bed and running downstairs, screaming for his mum. His mum and Marcel were stood in the kitchen making dinner when Harry skidded in.
“We need to go to the hospital, Louis’ been shot and Zayn’s with him,” Harry gasped out and his mother rushed over to him immediately. What neither of them expected was Marcel pushing passed both of them with a look of determination.
“Fucking come ON!” Marcel screamed at them as he ran to their car. Harry looked at his mother in shock before running after Marcel. To her favour, their mum didn’t pause to beat Marcel for his language, she just jumped in the front of her car and drove them to the hospital whilst trying not to get pulled over for speeding.
When they pulled up in front of the hospital, they found a crying Zayn in the waiting room, his white t-shirt covered in blood. Zayn looked up to meet their shocked face and the look of misery of Zayn’s face made Harry’s blood run cold, he just kept thinking ‘he’s dead’, ‘Louis’ dead’, over and over.
“He’s in surgery, they said they don’t think anything vital was hit but he’s lost a lot of blood and there’s muscle damage or some shit,” Zayn forced out, his eyes filled with fear, and Harry couldn’t stand it. He walked forwards and pulled Zayn tight against his chest, Zayn’s hands going around his back, his finger tips leaving bruises on Harry’s sides most likely. When he finally pulled back he found Marcel and his mother seated on the waiting room couch, Marcel hiding his face in their mothers’ neck, but he didn’t seem to be crying. Harry had a feeling that Marcel wouldn’t be able to cry until he’d seen Louis with his own eyes.
MARCEL’S POV
He felt numb. Like he was so filled with fear and anger that the emotions had simply cancelled themselves out. He’d been sat next to his mum, hiding in her arms, for almost an hour when he decided he really needed some answers. He pulled himself out of his mum’s arms and stormed over to where Zayn and Harry were holding each other.
“What the hell were you even doing?” Marcel snapped at Zayn who looked up at him with eyes filled with exhaustion. Harry looked up at Marcel warningly, but he ignored his older brother.
“He needed my help. He wanted to get out of the mess he was in,” Zayn murmured, his voice husky and brittle. Harry kissed him on the cheek in encouragement but Marcel was still angry.
“You never should have gone. Especially not when you knew there were guns!” Marcel practically shouted and Harry stood to talk into his ear urgently.
“Marcel, seriously keep your fucking voice down, because if they find out that Louis has two unlicensed guns, then you won’t be seeing him again for a really fucking long time. Zayn didn’t do anything wrong. If Zayn hadn’t gone with him then Louis would be dead right now. And if Zayn hadn’t been smart enough to think of a contingency plan then they’d both be fucking dead. So calm the fuck down. Mum!” Harry called making Marcel jump. Maybe he felt bad for taking out his worry on Zayn, but he couldn’t help it since Louis wasn’t there to shout at. Anne came over to them with a tired smile.
“Yes baby?” She asked softly, stroking Harry’s hair back from his face with a mother’s tender hand.
“You need to take Marcel away from Zayn until he calms down, okay?” Harry asked softly and Marcel looked back at Zayn to see the older boys face downturned, like he was seriously affected by Marcel’s blame. When his mum wrapped her arm around his shoulders and began to lead him away, Marcel didn’t bother to protest, decided to just go meekly.
“You shouldn’t blame him, baby. They were both stupid to get into that kind of trouble, but Zayn was trying to protect his friend,” Anne said softly as she sat Marcel down beside her.
“I know I just . . . I was mad at him for hurting Harry and then this happened and he’s kind of the only person I can yell at because Louis’ . . . Louis isn’t . . .” Marcel could feel his chest getting tight, could feel the tremors, the inability to take a breath, and knew he was going to have a panic attack. He used to have them all the time, but . . . since he’d come back home he’d only had one or two, and none in the last couple weeks. Marcel looked up with blurry eyes and met Harry’s gaze, knew that Harry wanted to come and help him but that he also didn’t want to leave Zayn’s side, and it was that that just . . . seemed to snap him out of it. He dragged in a gasping breath as his mum whispered reassurances in his ear, taking his time to get his breath back. He felt this wave of pride then. He’d actually dealt with his own panic attack before it had gotten to the point of no return.
“You’re doing so well baby, do you want some water?” his mum asked, worry and pride mixing in her eyes. Marcel shook his head silently and looked back to where his brother sat to find Harry’s proud, shining eyes already on him. Harry smiled at him and Marcel gave him a weak smile in return. That smile died out when a nurse came out with a clip board and asked for the loved ones of Louis Tomlinson.
HARRY’S POV
When they walked down the hall to one of the hospital rooms and found Louis lying wrapped in pristine white sheets, an actual whimper left his baby brother’s lips. Harry clasped Marcel’s shoulder but kept his other arm around Zayn’s waist.
Marcel walked over to the bed and clasped Louis’ hand while Harry and Zayn stood at the bottom of the bed in stunned silence at seeing their exuberant friend look so weak. Louis looked small, a tiny, frail creature that could just disappear at any moment. Zayn choked on a sob and buried his face in Harry’s neck as Anne came back from talking to the nurse.
“They said that he should make a full recovery, though he will have to go to rehab to help the damaged muscles in his shoulder. They said he was lucky that the bullet didn’t hit the artery in his shoulder, and that Zayn got him here so fast. He’s going to be okay,” his mum said, murmuring the last sentence as she stroked a hand over Zayn’s head, offering him comfort. Zayn stayed tucked into Harry, not raising his face, but the slight relaxation in Zayn’s shoulder let Harry relax a little too. His mum left to wrap her arm around a silently crying Marcel, and that was the moment Louis decided to wake up, at least a little bit anyway.
“Zayn?” Came Louis’ choked voice and Zayn almost knocked himself out getting to the side of the bed so fast.
“I’m here, man. I’m good. You’re in the hospital,” Zayn rushed out, his fingers trembling where they rested on Louis’ arm.
“Good. Wh’s Marcel?” Louis slurred, his eyes starting to drift closed again. “Hazzz gon’ kill me if I make ‘im cry again,” Louis continued and Harry chuckled helplessly, though his tears were threatening.
“I’m here,” Marcel practically whispered, clutching Louis’ hand so tight that his knuckles were white.
“Dimples,” Louis smiled sloppily, obviously drugged to the max right now. “Got out of that shit for you. Love you,” and then he passed out, leaving Marcel wide eyed and shocked.
“Guessing that’s the first time he’s said he loves you?” Harry asked lightly, but he knew his eyes danced with laughter.
“Yeah,” Marcel squeaked and Harry decided it was time to have a little chat with a certain brown-eyed boy about their own situation.
“Zayn?” Harry asked softly and Zayn turned to look at him questioningly. His whole demeanour had changed now that Louis had at least semi woken up. The sadness had lifted and he didn’t look so tired anymore. Harry nodded his head towards the door and realisation shone in Zayn’s eyes as he stood and followed Harry out of the room.
Harry found an empty waiting room and sat down with a sigh, Zayn sitting down across from him warily.
“How do I know you’ll change?” Harry asked after a few moments of silence and Zayn’s eyes lit up, like he understood this was Harry offering another chance. Zayn was silent for a few seconds before pulling out his iPhone. Harry was about to smack him for being rude when Zayn finished what he’d been doing and sat back with a satisfied smile. “What?”
“Check your Facebook.” Zayn replied simply and Harry pulled out his phone curiously. When Harry tapped on the app and waited for his timeline to upload, he didn’t expect a notification about Zayn changing his relationship status to "‘In A Relationship’ with ‘Harry Styles’”. Harry’s fingers trembled as he went onto his timeline and saw a couple of posts that Zayn had obviously just written:
- ‘I’ve been in a relationship with Harry for just under a year now, if anyone has a problem then they can come say it to my face’
- ‘by the way, I’m pretty much gay for Harry Styles if you hadn’t noticed’
- ‘bet you’re glad you don’t have to worry about me stealing your GF anymore ;P’
The last one had Harry laughing and putting his face in his hands so frustrated that they’d actually had to resort to Facebook to solve their problems, but also stupidly charmed by Zayn’s actions.
“Facebook?” Harry asked with a cocked brow, trying to stifle the smile on his lips. Zayn grinned and moved over to sit on the couch, beside Harry, instead of across from him.
“I figured it was the quickest way to let everyone know my business,” Zayn smirked, lifting a hand to cup the side of Harry’s face.
“Hmm, you still have a lot of making up to do,” Harry teased and Zayn came so close that his lips brushed Harry’s with every word.
“Gladly,” Zayn whispered into his mouth before sealing their lips together. It wasn’t fixed, they still had problems; Louis was still in a hospital bed with a bullet wound, Markus would probably want to get revenge somehow, and Harry was pretty sure he was failing his degree, but at that moment, with Zayn’s smiling lips against his, Harry seriously couldn’t care less.
Notes:
I hope you guys have had fun reading this fic, because I've had an amazing time writing it. I love you guys so much and thank you for reading :) xxXxx
Pages Navigation
zarry3 (Jeri_1116) on Chapter 1 Wed 24 Jul 2013 06:13PM UTC
Comment Actions
Phillipa19 on Chapter 1 Wed 24 Jul 2013 06:22PM UTC
Comment Actions
Ade (Guest) on Chapter 1 Wed 24 Jul 2013 07:05PM UTC
Comment Actions
Phillipa19 on Chapter 1 Wed 24 Jul 2013 07:34PM UTC
Comment Actions
Koolshelby on Chapter 1 Wed 24 Jul 2013 07:36PM UTC
Comment Actions
Phillipa19 on Chapter 1 Wed 24 Jul 2013 07:37PM UTC
Comment Actions
Laura (Guest) on Chapter 1 Wed 24 Jul 2013 11:43PM UTC
Comment Actions
Phillipa19 on Chapter 1 Thu 25 Jul 2013 07:10AM UTC
Comment Actions
Larry Shipper woo (Guest) on Chapter 1 Thu 25 Jul 2013 12:53PM UTC
Comment Actions
Phillipa19 on Chapter 1 Thu 25 Jul 2013 05:33PM UTC
Comment Actions
Account Deleted on Chapter 1 Thu 25 Jul 2013 08:49PM UTC
Comment Actions
Phillipa19 on Chapter 1 Thu 25 Jul 2013 09:27PM UTC
Comment Actions
carolina (Guest) on Chapter 1 Fri 26 Jul 2013 07:16AM UTC
Comment Actions
Phillipa19 on Chapter 1 Fri 26 Jul 2013 07:50AM UTC
Comment Actions
Hannah (Guest) on Chapter 1 Fri 26 Jul 2013 08:18AM UTC
Comment Actions
Phillipa19 on Chapter 1 Fri 26 Jul 2013 08:23AM UTC
Comment Actions
Olivia (Guest) on Chapter 1 Fri 26 Jul 2013 12:45PM UTC
Comment Actions
Phillipa19 on Chapter 1 Fri 26 Jul 2013 12:52PM UTC
Comment Actions
Autumn VerHägé (Guest) on Chapter 1 Fri 26 Jul 2013 07:29PM UTC
Comment Actions
Phillipa19 on Chapter 1 Fri 26 Jul 2013 07:47PM UTC
Comment Actions
prnckasv on Chapter 1 Sun 22 Dec 2013 11:07PM UTC
Comment Actions
Phillipa19 on Chapter 1 Mon 23 Dec 2013 02:11PM UTC
Comment Actions
Dannyboy (Guest) on Chapter 2 Sun 28 Jul 2013 11:40AM UTC
Comment Actions
Phillipa19 on Chapter 2 Sun 28 Jul 2013 11:51AM UTC
Comment Actions
Dannyboy (Guest) on Chapter 2 Sun 28 Jul 2013 12:13PM UTC
Comment Actions
Phillipa19 on Chapter 2 Sun 28 Jul 2013 12:28PM UTC
Comment Actions
Dannyboy (Guest) on Chapter 2 Sun 28 Jul 2013 12:38PM UTC
Comment Actions
Phillipa19 on Chapter 2 Sun 28 Jul 2013 12:39PM UTC
Comment Actions
Danielle (Guest) on Chapter 2 Sun 28 Jul 2013 07:16PM UTC
Comment Actions
Phillipa19 on Chapter 2 Sun 28 Jul 2013 07:28PM UTC
Comment Actions
Tofumi (Guest) on Chapter 2 Sun 28 Jul 2013 09:00PM UTC
Comment Actions
Phillipa19 on Chapter 2 Sun 28 Jul 2013 09:01PM UTC
Comment Actions
Tofumi (Guest) on Chapter 2 Sun 28 Jul 2013 09:07PM UTC
Comment Actions
Phillipa19 on Chapter 2 Sun 28 Jul 2013 09:28PM UTC
Comment Actions
Koolshelby on Chapter 2 Sun 28 Jul 2013 10:08PM UTC
Comment Actions
Phillipa19 on Chapter 2 Sun 28 Jul 2013 10:58PM UTC
Comment Actions
Koolshelby on Chapter 2 Sun 28 Jul 2013 11:10PM UTC
Comment Actions
Phillipa19 on Chapter 2 Sun 28 Jul 2013 11:23PM UTC
Comment Actions
zarry3 (Jeri_1116) on Chapter 2 Mon 29 Jul 2013 05:38AM UTC
Comment Actions
Phillipa19 on Chapter 2 Mon 29 Jul 2013 08:22AM UTC
Comment Actions
Account Deleted on Chapter 2 Mon 29 Jul 2013 09:51PM UTC
Comment Actions
Phillipa19 on Chapter 2 Mon 29 Jul 2013 10:04PM UTC
Comment Actions
iamai (velasis) on Chapter 2 Wed 11 Sep 2013 09:47AM UTC
Comment Actions
Phillipa19 on Chapter 2 Thu 19 Sep 2013 04:47PM UTC
Comment Actions
Jordan+R (Guest) on Chapter 2 Mon 30 Sep 2013 12:39AM UTC
Comment Actions
Phillipa19 on Chapter 2 Mon 30 Sep 2013 07:44AM UTC
Comment Actions
Pages Navigation