--A Larry Stylinson Fanfiction--

Navigating through everyday domestic life, ex-popstars Harry and Louis have a lot to learn. Told in both their perspectives, this is a tale of treasuring the unexpectedly beautiful moments that life has to offer.

(Author's note: I'm posting the first two chapters only, so let me know if you would like me to continue. I'll try my best to update often.)


2. Breakfast with Boobear


I walk into the kitchen and immediately freeze in my tracks. Fuck. I had totally forgotten what a mess I had made. Plates were scattered all over the floor, the bag of flour had ripped open and spilt on the counter, and the pancakes were burning on the stove.

I anxiously turn around to see Louis walk in behind me. Unprecedentedly, he sits down at the table in a calm fashion. He seemed to be unfazed by the mess, but I assume he was in a great deal of pain, too much to be worrying about the kitchen. I wince as he leans back in his seat, Lou cringing while doing so. It was torturous to watch Lou in that much pain. The only thing stopping me from protesting his football playing was the fact that he was raising money for a good cause. Still, I worry for his health.

“Sorry about the mess,” I mumble, embarrassed. Louis just nods.

Bending down, I quickly pick the plates off of the tile floor, placing them in a pile in the sink. I pick the bag of flour off of the counter, closing it with a pin and storing it in the cabinet.

“Lou, where’s the dustpan?”

“In the drawer.”

“Which one?”

“The one to the left.”

Riffling through the contents of the drawer, I soon find the dustpan. I soon sweep up the flour on the counter, only getting a little bit on myself. I dispose of the flour in the garbage can under the sink.

Beep! Beep! The fire detector goes off as the pancakes burn on the stove. Fuck. I rush over and turn off the gas, extinguishing the flame. Louis lets out a chuckle as I turn around, flustered.

“You’re so fucking pathetic sometimes,” he laughs, shaking his head dramatically.

I giggle. “Then why did you fall in love with me?” I tease, walking over to him, poking his stomach.

He flinches, but laughs anyway. “How could I not love you?” he asks, staring up at me.

“I don’t know. I mean, I am pretty loveable,” I joke.

He just chuckles again. “Now go get me breakfast!” he says, pushing me towards the stove.

I frown when I see the pancakes. I was hoping they were only a bit charred, but upon further inspection, I concluded that they looked more like flattened pieces of coal than edible food.

I turn around. “Is cereal good?”

“Yeah, babe,” he answers, rolling his eyes.

I know what he must be thinking. This was the third time I had burnt our meal this week. I should really just stick to cereal and sandwiches at this point. At the same time, knowing me, I would probably manage to screw that up, too.

I pour Louis and I two bowls of Cheerios, and join him at the table.

“Here you go.”

“Thanks,” he mumbles, wincing as he sits up in his seat.

I try to ignore it, because I know how Louis absolutely despises to be pitied. He lifts the spoon to his mouth, and the way his face became distorted was enough to tell me that the pain was excruciating. His face was wretched, his mouth pursed, and his eyes were dimmed.

“Babe, are you alright?”

“My arm’s just a bit sore. Nothing major.” He takes a bite and lowers his arm, sighing a breath of relief.

“Bullshit. Let me help you,” I snap, ripping the spoon out of his hand. He protests but I shush him up. I bring the spoonful of cereal up to his mouth, but he just glares at me.

“What?” I ask, confused. He should be relieved that he doesn’t need to use his arm. I didn’t mind feeding him. He must have gotten tackled a lot harder than I originally thought.

“No fucking way am I going to let you feed me, Harry. I don’t need to be babied. I can handle myself.” He folds his arms in defiance. I sigh and regrettably return the spoon to him.

I start eating, making sure I don’t look up. Louis doesn’t want to be pitied, but I couldn’t help it. Seeing someone hurting was physically taxing on me.

“That’s it. I can’t do this anymore,” I exclaim, standing up. I walk into the hallway and search the closet for any pain medication. Louis was going to take some damn medication one way or another, even if I had to pry his mouth open myself.

“Where the hell is it?” I mutter, getting frustrated. There was allergy medication, laxatives, and even digestive supplements in here.  Where the hell is the aspirin?

“Here it is,” I hear from behind me. Louis stood there with a bottle of pills in his hand.

“Why did you follow me? You need to sit down. I’ll help you to the couch—“ I was cut off by Louis placing his finger on my lips.

“Thank you for your concern but I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“Okay,” I sigh. “But please, I’m begging you, please take some aspirin.”

“Okay, love,” he whispers, reaching up and grabbing the sides of my face. He stands on his tippy toes and places his soft lips on mine. I lean into the kiss, still getting the fluttery feeling of butterflies in my stomach. It was amazing; no matter how much I kiss Lou, I always feel the nervousness in the pit of my stomach. Louis always kept me on my toes.

I deepen the kiss before pulling away softly, staring into his blue eyes. I still get mesmerized by them each and every day.

“Now go and take your medication,” I say, smacking him in the butt and shooing him away.

“Yes, sir,” Louis chuckles, limping away to get a glass of water to swallow the pill.

I smile. I was the luckiest man on earth.

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