Please, Don't.

A little Insecure Louis drabble I thought up. *.*

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1. Please, Don't.

Louis stared at the blonde woman as she riled off all of the normally asked questions, when will there be an interview with some originality? He shifted uncomfortably and pulled his shirt out and down, attempting to mask his belly. The woman looked at him with slight annoyance for all the ruckus he was causing and he just lifted his eyebrows at her, too distracted by his need to feel somewhat comfortable. About the time he finally found a bearable position, the station manager called for a five minute break before the interview was to be wrapped up,

“Of course.” He whispered to himself as he got up, again pulling his shirt out and down, effectively stretching out the bottom cuff, probably ruining another shirt. He shrugged and trudged over to the snack table, grabbing a bottle of water and taking a few dregs before turning back to the tan leather couch,

“Woah, woah mate, hold up.” He heard Harry’s deep grumble and stopped in his tracks, if it was any other of the boys he would’ve kept going and let them catch up, but this was Harry, and it was…different somehow.

“Yea?” He asked when Harry fell in step with him.

“What’s this?” Harry asked, moving one of his hands to tug on the end of Louis’ shirt, bringing attention to the way it’d been mangled. Louis blushed,

“Oh, nothing!” He emitted a nervous laugh and tried again to walk back towards his seat, only to be caught and brought back by Harry’s wonderfully big hands.

“It’s not nothing Louis it’-”

Harry was cut off by the station manager’s yell telling them they had ten seconds before recording resumed,

“This isn’t done.” Harry whispered before returning to the set, all smiles of course.

Later that night

Harry caught Louis by his wrist when they finally got back to their hotel rooms and dragged him into his,

“Now, mind telling me why you’ve declared war on all of your tops?” Harry demanded as he quickly shut the door.

“I haven’t declared war on anything!” Louis insisted as a blush found its way to his cheeks, “I just feel insecure sometimes is all, no biggie.”

He tried to smile it off and reached for the door knob, but Harry placed his hand there first, securing the door in its shut position,

“Mind telling me what on earth you have to be insecure about?”

Louis looked from where Harry’s hand was enclosing the knob up to his bicep and over his collar bone up to his eyes, trying to find the source of all the compassion he’s felt from the boy since the very beginnings of the X-Factor,

“I just feel like my tummy is a little too big, is all.” He shrugged.

Louis watched as the calm eyes before him set on fire, the heat of which threatened to lick out and burn his face,

“Don’t you ever say that again.” Louis was about to start telling Harry off when he felt his hands place themselves firmly on his waist before moving up, and taking his shirt with them. Louis didn’t register what was happening until his shirt was over his head and thrown across the room.

“HARRY!” Louis screamed as he lunged for his top, only to be captured again by Harry and forced to look back into his eyes of cool green embers,

“Please Louis,”

Louis’ breath caught as he saw the pure compassion and emotion in Harry’s eyes,

“Please don’t ever feel like this again. You’re perfect.”

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