Smile For Him

The grandfather clock in the corner read 7:12p.m. The room was quiet, the only sound being cutlery hitting china as the Styles family ate dinner. Harry picked at his vegetables, piercing one pea at a time. His green eyes kept glancing towards the clock, constantly concerned about the time. Even though he knew he had two hours yet, he was nervous. Perhaps that’s why he couldn’t eat. He’d barely had three forkfuls of his food. The knots in his stomach seemed to tighten further every time he thought about the party. He couldn’t quite tell if he was excited or nervous, but from the way his hands were shaking he suspected the latter.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” his Mother’s sickly sweet yet clearly uncaring voice spoke. Robin and Gemma turned towards the younger boy too, keen to see what Anne was talking about. Robin couldn’t even be arsed to express his disgust at Harry’s full plate, and instead just rolled his eyes and crammed another Yorkshire pudding into his mouth. “I’m fine,” Harry replied, sculpting his mash potato. “Are you sure? You’ve hardly eaten anything?” Anne continued. Harry wanted to scream at her, ‘Why are you asking? It’s not like you care!’ but instead just shrugged and replied, “I’m not really hungry.”

“Just leave him, Anne,” Robin finally spoke, gravy spilling down his chin. “If he wants to be an ungrateful bastard, let him be. He’s made it perfectly clear he doesn’t want to be a part of his family, so I say leave him be. The sooner he’s out of the house the better,” the older man turned back towards his dinner, signalling that that was to be the end of the conversation. Gemma smirked and stared at Harry with an evil glint, laughing at Harry’s blushing cheeks.

Most mothers would have argued back, claiming that that was no way to talk to her son! But not Anne. She just accepted the harsh words and didn’t look at Harry again for the entire dinner. Not once. The boy in question managed to eat one last mouthful before giving up and pushing his plate away. He simply couldn’t eat any more. He felt sick...sick with nerves. He avoided Robin’s dark glare and shifted uncomfortably in his seat, waiting until Chelsea came over and took his plate away.

He didn’t stay for pudding. Even though he knew he should have. All eyes were on him as he stood up and walked out of the dining room, but unlike on Monday, Robin didn’t comment. He simply let Harry walk away, his curls hiding his face. In reality the step-father was grateful that the younger boy had left. He hated him with more passion than he’d ever felt. The boy was an embarrassment with his liberal thinking and skinny torso. He would certainly never call Harry his son. Not ever. He was ashamed of him. Ashamed of having to admit that Harry Styles was his step-son. Humiliating, even. Thank God the pathetic child only had a year left of school.

Harry kept his head down all the way to his room. His insides were churning and he felt rather sick. Outside of his window he could see people arriving already, clearly the hosts of the party. Even from the far distance of his room he could see them struggling with what looked like several crates of beer. Harry had never really drunk beer before. Not one from a can or a bottle anyway. He wasn’t sure if he liked it, but he decided he would drink it anyway. He wanted to fit in...he wanted to make Louis proud.

That was probably what Harry was most nervous about. Showing Louis up. He was afraid he would embarrass Louis and that after tonight Louis would want nothing more to do with him. He was afraid that after tonight Louis would really see how weird he was. That couldn’t happen. He couldn’t lose Louis. All he’d have to do was drink beer and bop his head to the music. Maybe laugh at a few jokes that were told and politely decline any drugs that were offered to him. Hopefully people wouldn’t question him too much, because he was terrified of making himself look stupid.

He checked the time and noticed it was 7:34. Perhaps he should start getting ready now, to take his mind off of things? A shower seemed the logical answer, so the boy grabbed a clean, fluffy white towel and entered his bathroom. He allowed himself to soak under the water, letting the hot water run through his hair and down his back. It seemed to pass the time. Once he was out he paced around his room, now fussing over what he should wear. Harry never seemed to have this problem usually, because the only time Harry ever went out was if he was attending a fancy dinner. Therefore the outfit was of course of the formal variety, bow ties and all. But tonight was different. Should he wear jeans and a T-shirt, or was that perhaps a bit too casual? He wanted to look decent a least if he were to be meeting Louis’ friends. To be honest Harry Styles didn’t have much casual attire in the first place. As he rummaged through his wardrobe all he could seem to find were trousers, blazers, shirts and jumpers. Even his jeans were designer. How was he meant to fit in?

After panicking and rummaging for a good fifteen minutes Harry eventually settled on an outfit. A pair of tanned trousers which be believed people to call chinos and a dark woollen jumper on top. In fact, Harry felt quite stylish. He was positive he’d seen other boys wear similar outfits on the streets, meaning he could fit in quite well at the party. His hair on the other hand was a nightmare. Although it was still damn it had grown into a fluffy mess. It was untameable, but he was never keen to get it cut. He liked his hair to hide behind, and besides, his head would look empty without the mass of curls sat on top. He huffed and pushed it this way and that, smoothing it down and running his fingers through it. No use. Harry just had to face the facts, his hair was crazy.

He checked the time again, 8:41. Ten minutes. Just ten until he had to sneak out of his house and climb that hedge and meet Louis on the other side. His stomach gave a gigantic leap. Glancing out of the window again he could spot a bonfire sparking through the darkness. He gulped. His heart raced. He wasn’t even there yet and he was already so scared. For the last ten minutes he paced around his room, debating with himself whether this really was a good idea or not. His empty stomach continued to roll, and before he knew it, it was 8:49.

He slipped on a pair of clean white plimsolls and glanced at himself in the mirror a final time. He gave his reflection a reassuring nod before exiting his room, making sure to scuff up his duvet and turn the lights off in case someone decided to check on him. It was doubtful though. It was a Friday night, for heaven’s sake. Most of the staff had run off home, and Tobias was no doubt locked away in his own room trying to get a bit of rest.

Harry crept down the hallway. He wasn’t sure why. There most probably wasn’t anyone nearby to catch him out other than Gemma whose loud music could be heard even from across the landing. Barely a noise was made as he tip-toed down the stairs, his eyes darting warily around him in case someone randomly popped up and asked him where he was off to. No one did, and he made it into his garden without being seen. The cold night air hit him, but he didn’t feel it so much due to his thick jumper. With a deep breath he walked. Past the swimming pool, past the fountain, past the tennis courts until he was faced with the hedge. Biting his lip he realised this was the moment. The only time he could turn back. He exhaled loudly and shut his eyes.

“Harry?” a whisper was heard. His eyes snapped open. “Louis?” he whispered back, recognising the voice. “Yeah,” Louis said, his voice coming from behind the hedge. “Thank fuck I found you. I didn’t know which house was yours.” In the darkness Harry smiled. With Louis right there he didn’t feel so nervous any more. With Louis by his side he felt like he could accomplish anything.

“I’m coming over,” Harry whispered, to which Louis’ replied with, “Okay!” Like he had done almost a week ago, Harry climbed the hedge, with a lot more skill this time. He made it to the top and glanced down to see a figure in the darkness. “Hi,” it said, its voice full of humour. From his position on the ground all Louis could see was a mass of curls silhouetted in the moonlight above him.

“Hi,” Harry replied, shuffling forward, ready to jump. Louis backed out of the way and watched as Harry managed to land on two feet. As soon as the young boy was on solid ground Louis edged back towards him. A quick kiss was planted on Harry’s check sending the boys heart racing. “Ready?” Louis asked sincerely. Even though it was dark, those blue eyes still shone on. Harry gave a nod, and the two started their walk to the barn where Harry could already hear the thumping music.

“Don’t be scared. I’ll be with you,” Louis whispered in his ear just as they approached the people. Harry gulped and tried to ignore the way his legs were wobbling. Everything was so loud. People were dancing, and drinking and shouting. It was just like Harry had imagined. It was utter chaos. Sensing his fright Louis took a hold of Harry’s hand and squeezed it generously. Harry just squeezed back encouragingly, although his face was looking a little pale.

A brown haired boy who was previously talking to a bunch of people sipping beers noticed his best friend clutching the hand of a very petrified looking boy. He grinned. “See you in a bit,” he said to one of his friends before rushing off to Louis and his friend. “Louis!” Liam cried, a wide smile on his face. He tried to look friendly and inviting, as he could see how frightened Harry looked.

Harry. Finally he could put a name to a face. He was certainly pretty. A bit gawky if anything, only slightly shorter than Louis but also rather skinny. His thin face was engulfed with brown curls, and somehow it all made sense to Liam. He was exactly Louis’ type. Boyish, quite adorable, with pretty eyes and a fantastic jaw line. But he knew what Louis meant...the boy was odd. There was a certain look in his eye which was distant. Like something was missing. Like he didn’t really understand what was happening to him. He looked like a school boy now. Naive and innocent. He didn’t look posh though. Only his posture and expensive clothing gave it away. Because, let’s be honest, not many posh people had a mane of hair quite like that.

“Liam,” Louis grinned back, his cheeks flushing a little. “This is Harry,” Harry looked into Liam’s eyes and gave a faint smile before looking away again. It wasn’t rude...just shy. “Harry, this is Liam.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Harry. I wish I could say I’ve heard so much about you, but to be honest Louis’ been a little secretive,” Liam laughed. Harry on the other hand looked a little embarrassed and worried. Liam leant in and spoke so only Harry could hear, “It’s okay. I know. And I don’t care. You make our Lou happy and that’s all that matters,” he pulled back and gave Louis a reassuring smile. The conversation fell silent for a minute before Harry said, “Thank you,” he looked at Liam this time, keeping direct eye contact and allowing a smile to form. The brown eyed boy was a little shocked. For such an awkward boy his voice was sure deep and wonderful.

Things finally felt a little less awkward and Liam offered them both a drink. He handed Louis a beer and asked Harry, “Do you drink?” Harry just gave a nod and was handed a beer also. The cold glass felt strange in his palm, but he also felt effortlessly cool. He took a sip and tried not to grimace at the bitter taste. Instead he grinned and bared it.

They spent an hour like this. The three of them. Sipping their beers and chatting casually. Harry finally felt slightly comfortable in Liam’s company and was revealed to find the older boy was genuinely nice and was actually quite sensible, although to be honest he didn’t say much, and only spoke when spoken too. He was only on his first beer while both Louis and Harry were on their second. If Harry were to be honest he was feeling slightly tipsy. If he knew what tipsy felt like anyway. This was the first time he’d drunk this much alcohol. His head was a little warm and the words seemed to be slipping from his mouth easier than he remembered. He was a lightweight, he realised. Probably not helped by the fact he’d barely eaten anything.

“Where’s Niall and Zayn, by the way?” Louis questioned, noticing his fellow friends were nowhere to be seen. Although it was fairly difficult to spot people in the crowd. “Zayn’s chatting up that fit blonde, although by her expression I take it she’s not interested,” Liam pointed his beer to the corner of the dark room, “and Niall’s dancing.”

And sure enough, the Irish lad, clearly off his head, was in the crowd. Jumping around and shouting to the lyrics, the alcohol in his hand sloshing down himself. Louis simply shook his head and laughed, while Harry was transfixed. He watched not only Niall, but the others too. The girls in their short skirts grinding and flicking their hair. Boys moshing and pushing each other, head banging to the loud music. It was crazy. And Harry loved to watch it. He downed the last of his beer and grabbed another from the crate, allowing Liam to pop the top of with his bottle opener.

“Take it easy,” Louis whispered into his ear. “I’m fine,” Harry mumbled back, taking another gulp of the bitter liquid. He didn’t want to admit that his words were beginning to slur. A groan was heard from the side of them, and Harry noticed a dark-skinned boy had joined them. Harry recognised the boy as the one he’d seen at the barn before, and realised Niall had been there too. His heart raced again, realising he would be introduced to another friend of Louis’. He was so nervous that they wouldn’t like him, and he was determined to show them that he wasn’t just a little school boy, so he took a bigger sip of his drink, hoping that if he consumed a great deal of the alcohol it would give him confidence.

“You okay?” Liam asked, offering his friend some of his drink. Zayn gratefully accepted and told, “No. I’ve been trying to get on Holly for weeks. But she’s not interested,” he sighed in depression and finally noticed Harry. His brown eyes widened and he flustered, “Oh, fuck! You must be Harry! Hi!” Harry’s eyed widened too, and he stuttered back a polite greeting. “I’m Zayn. Fuck, sorry. I forgot you were coming tonight. It’s proper nice to meet you,” the boy flushed a deep red at the attention that was paid to him, but he managed to smile and say back, “Nice to meet you.” Louis’ friends had been so nice so far, and hadn’t seemed to mention his age or where he came from. So far so good. It was only when Niall staggered over that things began to get a little uncomfortable. For Harry anyway.

“Harry!” Niall cried as if he’d known the boy for years. He fell into the younger boy and hugged him tight. Louis looked a little mad at how the drunken Niall was behaving. He didn’t understand. Harry didn’t just hug people. He couldn’t just hug people. He wanted to prise the Irish boy off of his Harry and tell him to calm down.

Niall pulled away and started gushing, “Hi. It’s nice to meet you. Louis talks about you all the time. Well he doesn’t, but he wants to. He likes you. That means I like you. You’ve got a drink, right? Cool. I need another one. Liam, get me a beer,” the group of boys fell into silence at the bumbling Irish boy. Liam, as told, grabbed a beer and handed it to Niall. All the while Louis had his head in his hands. Embarrassed at Niall’s behaviour, but at least Harry had seen him at his worst. Harry realised this was it. The four boys. They went well together. With their different personalities and accents. He could just tell what their home life was like. Crazy, dirty, but none the less hilarious. They seemed genuinely like best friends. The way they all felt so comfortable around each other. Liam clearly the leader. Sensible and always on the lookout. Niall seemed the crazy one, constantly drinking and quite childish. Zayn on the other hand seemed shy at first glance, but was actually quite a lady’s man...or rather tried to be. He realised Louis was the odd one. The one who was always there to make you laugh, and had strange little quirks and was genuinely a kind person who fell in love too quickly. Harry wondered how he could fit in. He didn’t really, he was out of place. But he was thankful when Louis’ hand touched his, offering support as if to say, ‘It’s okay,’

“So, who’s coming onto the dance floor with me?” Niall smiled eagerly. Zayn grinned and rushed off, both boys throwing themselves into the crowd. Liam laughed and went off to join them, giving Harry a brief nod. It was just the two boys left now. “Sorry about them,” Louis said, “I know they’re a little crazy. I tried to tell them not to...freak you out. But they can’t always...control it,” he drank from his beer and took another. Harry bit his lip and spoke, “No. I-it’s okay. I’m happy I’ve met them now. They seem nice,” he looked to Louis and the older boy grinned, realising Harry really was okay. Just like earlier he placed his lips to Harry’s cheek. Doing it for the first time in public where others could see. Not that anyone had much of a reaction; they were too busy doing their own thing, their thoughts drowned out by the extremely loud music.

Louis glanced over at the dance floor and debated asking Harry the question. He swallowed the beer in his mouth and said, “Want to dance?” At the words Harry’s heart skipped a beat. He’d never danced in his life, and didn’t have a clue how to. Especially not how these people were. Grinding together, sweating and bruised. “W-we don’t have to-” Louis began saying.

“Okay,” Harry shrugged, finishing his own drink and taking another from the crates by their side. This time he chose a can, seeing as he had no bottle opener of his own. “Sure?” Louis asked again, wanting a reassuring answer. Harry smiled a nodded, although his stomach was churning again, nervous.

Louis took his hand and pulled him to the dance floor. People waved and greeted him drunkenly as he walked past them, and gave confused glances towards Harry. A few girls eyed him up hungrily, but Louis made sure to pull him close if he saw anyone looking at his boy. Once they were in the crowd Louis turned to Harry. They were extremely close and already Harry’s hair was sticking to his face with sweat. Around them people danced and jumped and bumped. “I don’t know what to do,” Harry mouthed pathetically, instantly regretting his decision. His beer sloshed down himself as he was knocked by a rather fat boy.

Louis’ eyes shot full or rage for one second before pulling Harry closer. The music drowned out any noise that could be made between the two, so they instead had to communicate through their actions. A new song started and the people around them began swaying and bopping to the loud dance music. Blue eyes stared into green carefully. Everyone around them didn’t seem to matter. It was just the two. Only them and no one else. Louis slid his arm around Harry’s waist slowly, looking for sighs of dislike in the young boy, but he didn’t spot anything other than excitement, nerves...and lust? His hand landed on the boy’s lower back, and he pulled him close. They were practically touching now, their faces so incredibly near. With anyone else Harry would want to run away right now, but despite his beating heart he didn’t want to move away. With a beer in one hand, Harry placed his other on Louis’ hip, believing it to be the right thing to do. Louis’ smirked and he began moving to the music, slowly at first, his legs brushing against Harry’s and their hips bucking together causing Harry to blush. It was so fucking sexy. He wanted to let himself go. For Louis. He wanted Louis to know he really was okay. Despite being in an uncomfortable place with people he didn’t know, he was okay. Because he was with Lou.

Things became increasingly hot. Harry wanted to remove his jumper, because he was starting to sweat. His usually tight face started to relax, his mouth opening just a little as Louis’ chest brushed against his own. The song picked up, and they moved quicker. His fingers gripped onto Louis’ hip as his insides started to feel funny. It was like butterflies, but thousands of them. His heart rate increased again. He brought the can to his lips and took a generous amount, realising it was the alcohol that made him feel this way. It was probably a silly thing to do. To rely on alcohol. But Harry wouldn’t regret it. He’d never regret anything with Louis.

The older boy was staring at him. Watching as the sweat built on his forehead, one curl stuck over his eye. Louis raised his hand, and pushed the curl away, wanting to see Harry’s eyes which were a little bloodshot and bleary. It was wrong. Harry was seventeen. He wasn’t allowed to be drunk. But fuck it. Louis pushed out his hips again, harder this time. He would have heard an audible groan from the younger boy hand the music not been so loud. Louis watched the boys full lips, slightly parted in ecstasy. He wanted him. Fuck did he want him. They leant in closer, their foreheads touching. Harry was breathing heavily. Still nervous. Always nervous. Their eyes met again. Every detail could be seen. Those tiny golden flecks in Harry’s eyes, like gold dust. Louis moaned, grinding himself against Harry more. Enjoying the feeling that twitched in his jeans. Beer sloshed on the floor as both boys dropped their drinks. Harry grasped at Louis’ shirt with both of his hands, while a hand snuck itself up Harry’s jumper to grip his bony hip.

“Fuck,” Harry could just about see Louis moan, his eyes closed. He felt so powerful. The definite reason for Louis’ throbbing cock. He couldn’t believe it. But he knew. He’d caused that. He’d never caused that before, and he thought stuff like this would be awkward. But fuck he’d never felt so in control. He didn’t know what to do, and was merely going along with what Louis wanted. But he’d never enjoyed anything more in his life. He’d never felt more free as he did right now. Grinding with Louis in a fucking barn in the middle of a fucking field. Drunk, and easily influenced. He didn’t even pull back when Louis’ lips touched his own. Gentle, just like the first. But desperate, hot. He kissed back, firm and willing. Telling Louis it was okay. He was drunk. Fuck, he must have been, because he never would have done this. Louis must have been drunk too, because he was being so fucking cocky. Smirking into the kiss and digging his fingernails into Harry’s skin. And you know what? Harry loved it.

Their lips moved. For the first time. But time didn’t stand still. Not like when they first kissed. No. Time didn’t stop. Time was all around them rushing past. It was hot, passionate, quick. A hand made its way to Harry’s curls. It pulled at them gently. Harry groaned in lust, not realising having his hair pulled could be quite so thrilling. He just couldn’t believe it. Harry fucking Styles. The wimpiest kid. The wallflower. The loser. Look at him now. Hot and sweaty in the middle of the dance floor, lips attached to the older guy. He felt hot. So fucking hot. He throbbed. He felt tight. If he were at home he would have taken his trousers down and stroked himself until he climaxed. He couldn’t do that now. But somehow, despite how frustrating it was, it was so amazing. The idea that Louis could feel what he had done to the younger boy, and Harry could feel what he’d done it too. It was perfect. They were sharing this moment together. A tongue gingerly brushed Harry’s lower lips. It was hot, and wet, but Harry’s heart slammed in his ribcage and he opened his mouth and let Louis’ tongue snake its way in. The moment it touched his he felt fireworks. Fucking fireworks in front of his eyes. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t see. Just lights. Everywhere. He didn’t know what he was doing. He didn’t know how to kiss. But Louis didn’t complain. Their tongues just danced a fucking tango together.

But it all became too much. They couldn’t breathe. Louis was the first to pull away, his eyes slightly guilty through their lust. Harry was red. Speechless. He looked a Louis, and he grinned. He really did. But they knew it was time to get out. The crowd was hot, and they needed another drink. They went back to the corner with their beers and both grabbed one for themselves. Liam came over, eyebrow raised.

“I thought he was shy?” he said. And Harry flushed...but you know what? He smiled. He was happy. And he didn’t give a fuck. Because that moment right there, was the best thing that had ever happened to Harry. Better than words, better than handholding...and certainly better than their first kiss. Well, he is a teenager. And like Louis Tomlinson, he was horny as fuck.