***Harry Styles***
Monday, April 2nd, 2012 – North London, England

The subconscious moans Louis was making were almost too much for me to handle. Part of me wanted to laugh at how cute it was, but I was too turned on to laugh. Finally, when we both couldn’t handle just the kissing and touching anymore, I made mad, passionate, aggressive love to him, both of us loving every moment. Afterwards, he looked into my eyes, his own full of love and happiness, which elated me. I knew I needed him, forever.

“I love you, so much,” I whispered, bending down and kissing him. He grabbed my face to lock my lips on his, and we kissed each other for what felt like hours – my jaw was aching by the time we decided to come up for air. I laid back against the pillows and Louis collapsed in my arms, both of us breathing heavily.

“I love you,” Louis told me, making me smile. We fell asleep holding each other, peacefully, blissfully.

The next morning, I woke up early and stared at my sleeping boyfriend for a long time, until I felt like I had crossed the line from loving boyfriend to creepy stalker. I snuck out of bed and went downstairs, throwing together some breakfast. I brought it up to him on a tray, having set the plate of food next to a vase with a single flower from the neighbor’s garden (our little secret). Louis stirred awake when he heard me walk in the room.

“Morning, Love,” I told him gently. His eyes focused on me, and he smiled.

“That smells wonderful,” he said. I sat down on the bed with him and he started eating. I dipped my fingertips into the cottage cheese when he wasn’t looking and flung it on his face. He blinked, and I knew what was coming. We proceeded to have a food fight – blueberries and cottage cheese and jam and butter all over ourselves and the room (mostly the bed) by the end of it. My room was such a mess, in fact, that I knew I’d be hiring a maid service later that day because I certainly wasn’t going to clean it up when I could be snuggling my boyfriend instead. We finally said truce, and then got in the shower – together, for the first time, where we repeated last night’s events, only switching roles, and I was excited to think about all the experimenting we could do now that we’d broken down those barriers.

After the shower, though, I knew I had to confront Louis about something, so I dressed quickly and then went into his room just as he finished putting his clothes on.

“Lou,” I said, and he recognized the seriousness of my tone.

“Yeah?” he asked. I sat down on the edge of the bed and looked up at him.

“I didn’t want to bring this up last night because I didn’t want to ruin the moment, but, there were fresh cuts on your hip,” I said. I think deep down somewhere I had maybe wondered if there would be, but I didn’t want to think about it. I didn’t want to know I’d been the reason for that, but I had to know that there wasn’t something larger going on on his end. If he got addicted like I was, it was hard to get out of – near impossible, at least for me.

“Yeah,” Louis admitted. “They were from last week.” I knew what he meant – neither one of us wanted to bring up the fight we’d recently had. We were both over it and had moved on, but it had caused us both a lot of pain – not because of each other but because we both felt like we’d screwed up immensely and hurt the other one. It was still a tense subject.

“I know, Lou, and I’m so sorry. I mean, if I had known you were gonna do it again, too, I never would’ve cut that day.”

“What do you mean?” he asked. “I wasn't lying when I said I was going to do it every time you did.” He wasn’t angry or upset – just stating fact.

“Well, I – I didn’t think you’d ever touch me again, so I thought I was safe,” I finally admitted. Louis looked at me sympathetically, then sat down next to me on the bed.

“Harry, you need to know – ” he started, then stopped. He sighed, then started again. “I’m not good at this stuff, so bear with me.” I nodded, hoping he was actually going to express some sort of emotion. “I am so head over heels in love with you,” he said, his voice strained as though it physically hurt him to be talking so openly. “I want to be with you, forever, Harry Styles, I can’t imagine my life any other way, I don’t want to. That being said, I would fight for you until the day I die, so it is never over, I will never not want to touch you, or not want to be with you, no matter what. You’re my best friend, and as far as I’m concerned, we can work through anything, no matter how bad it seems at the time.” He emphasized the last part enough to make me understand he wasn’t only talking about us – he was talking about my cutting, too. Which reminded me of my original question I’d wanted to ask, probably a welcome detour for Louis from what he had just said – if I got mushy on him over this, he’d never open up to me again. I hoped my eyes and face expressed to him how much those words meant to me. I reached over and squeezed his hand.

“Thank you,” I said, hoarsely, and then gathered myself. “I have to know, Lou, when you cut – do you like it? I mean, does it feel good, does it help, or are you still just doing it because of me?” I knew that wasn’t a fair question – whatever he answered would make me feel bad.

“Harry, I’m not addicted to it,” he said, managing to answer the question without having to address why he did it. “I’m okay, Kid.” He leaned over and pecked me on the lips. I smiled, then stood up. I began walking to the bathroom to dry my hair, but I stopped at the doorway and turned back to Louis.

“Oh,” I said, “and I will fight for you until the day I die, as well,” I said, then left when I saw Louis smile.