7 Up

By the autumn, Harry is nearly buzzing out of his skin with how badly he wants to kiss Louis. And
he knows it has to be obvious; whenever Louis talks, Harry has to actively force himself to look
away from Louis’ lips. Think about anything else is the permanent mantra swimming in his mind.
He used to feel bad about it, really. Guilty, almost, that he’d spend the day with Louis, doing basic
lad stuff, and he’d have to nearly run home to get himself off in the darkness of his bedroom, biting
his lip, cursing that he got to this point.
But now, he’s so consumed by Louis, that he allows it. He allows his thoughts to wander to Louis
whenever he’s sat in class, he allows himself to wonder what Louis tastes like, he allows himself to
pretend his feelings for Louis are mutual and not at all awkward and one-sided.
He lets it overwhelm him until he physically can’t hold it in anymore.
He’s sat beside Louis on his couch a few weeks before Christmas. A film is playing - something
horribly boring that neither boy has paid much attention to since it started up - and Harry puts his
hand on Louis’ knee, just to touch any piece of him that he can. He needs the contact to settle
himself, to calm his nerves. He can feel the words on the tip of his tongue:
Louis, I can’t stop thinking about you.
Louis, I’d do anything to be able to kiss you.
Louis--
“Harry, can I kiss you?”
Harry whips his head around so quickly, he nearly pulls a muscle. “You… What?”
Louis is blushing a vibrant shade of scarlet, his blue eyes wide, but unwavering. “Sorry, that’s
weird, right? Fuck.” He starts shifting away from Harry on the couch before Harry can do anything
to react, and stands up. “Jesus, I’m embarrassed, I’m so sorry, Hazza. Do you want to go home?
Yeah, just leave. Go ahead, no worries.” Louis laughs nervously, running his fingers through his
fringe.
Harry has never seen Louis so flustered. It’s so unlike him to be so shy and uncomfortable. He’s
usually the put together one while Harry is the one tripping over his own words, and for some
reason, it makes Harry want to kiss him even more, seeing Louis undone like this.
He gets up on his feet, Louis’ gaze traveling to Harry, and in a surge of bravery, he backs Louis up
against the wall, his hands on Louis’ jaw.
“Wanna kiss you so bad,” he whispers, unable to meet Louis’ eyes. When Louis nearly whines,
Harry looks up, and sees him biting his bottom lip.
“Do it.”
“I’m gonna.”
“Okay, then. I’ll be here. Waiting.”
Harry smiles before he leans in so painfully slowly, he can almost hear his heart beating. And