The Brother I Never Wanted (Larry AU)

Chapter 8

Harry apparently decides that he wants ice cream at the last possible second, muttering a, "f**k it" before swerving into the parking lot to a small shop. Louis doesn't think he's ever screamed louder than he did in that moment. He swears his heart skips at least two beats when the truck coming the other way just barely misses, driver seemingly leaning on the horn to cuss them out. It's unfortunate because he's actually not that bad of a driver. The basic skills are there. He just apparently prefers to be a little reckless.

Louis' still shaking when Harry puts the car into park. He almost died. Harry almost f*****g killed them, and Louis' more than just a little pissed off about it. As soon as he manages to get his breathing under control, he growls, leaning over to rip the keys out of the ignition. He clutches them tightly, making sure that Harry is paying attention to him.

"After today . . ." he starts, holding the keys up in his face. "You are not to touch these keys ever again. Got it? No more driving."

The boy looks unaffected, lips pressed in an uninterested line. How can he possibly look so bored after pulling a stunt like that? He's a maniac, Louis' sure of it. He looks from Louis' eyes to the keys, then snatches the keys from his hand and pushes his door open.

"Oh, loosen up." Loosen up? He wants Louis to f*****g loosen up? Is he insane? He swings his long legs out of the car and climbs out. Breathing in dramatically, he turns and throws his forearm against the top of the car so he can bend down to smirk at him. It's infuriating really. "You're so uptight. Relax those shoulders. Loosen that jaw." When Louis doesn't even twitch, he continues. "You should learn to be more flexible . . ."

He drums his long fingers on the edge of the door, eyes twinkling. "What's your name again?"

Louis really doesn't know why – he really shouldn't care, but he feels something like a sting in his chest at his words. It's the same feeling he'll get when Niall's upset with him or his mum yells at him. He knows it all too well. It is hurt and loneliness all at the same time – a deadly combination if you really think about it.

All the anger just really seems to leave his body in one rush, and Louis wonders why Harry can't just be nice to him. He wonders why he doesn't deserve a stepbrother that actually cares. He knows it's just a joke to him – simple teasing. But it doesn't feel that way. Louis swallows around the tightness in his throat, directing his gaze to look out the window on his side so he doesn't have to look at Harry and picks at a strand on his jeans.

"Whatever. Just get your damn ice cream."

He doesn't look, but he can tell – no, he can feel – his presence linger by the car door for a second. It's almost like he doesn't know how to respond. And Louis wonders if maybe he's smart enough to figure out what to say and apologize. He gives him the opportunity, continuing to listen to his soft breathing for a couple seconds after he stopped talking. But then he hears the door slam on the driver's side, and Louis sags.

Staring out at the gray, cloudy sky, he doesn't really know why he expected something different. He's still just that stupid stepbrother that he's stuck with. He's still nothing to him. And Louis knows they don't know each other that well, but it really f*****g hurts because the damn kid isn't even giving him a chance.

Louis' eyes ghost over the side mirror, and he scowls as he catches his reflection, eyes darting back. He runs his finger over the bruised skin on his jaw, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth in disgust as he sees that it's starting to puff up. The slight stubble dusting his jaw covers a good majority of it, but not enough. He just hopes that his dad will be oblivious enough to not look too closely. He doesn't feel like being questioned even if he knows he could probably come up with a decent lie.

After a while, his bum really starts to hurt from sitting in the same position for this long, so he shifts, nearly having to push himself entirely off the seat to scoot over. The clock ticks forward another minute, and Louis groans, c*****g his head against the cool glass. Who even wants ice cream in four degree weather? He's so bizarre.

Harry eventually does come back, but with a cup and something like a lump in his other hand, and Louis looks away as soon as he starts to look up. He tries not to think about it, instead focusing on drawing patterns on the foggy window with his finger. He draws a smiley face, and then decides it doesn't fit his mood and goes back over it to draw a frowny face. Much better.

The door clicks open, allowing Harry to slide in and cast a slight breeze towards him that smells an awful lot like Harry. He moves to draw a circle around the face. It's silent for a second, and Louis can imagine him watching his finger run over the smooth glass. Then he hears him slide something into the cup holder, the clanking of objects following. Louis' more curious than he should be.

Something really cold brushes his jaw on the side closest to Harry and he jumps, startled by the touch. At first he thinks it's just his finger, but crossing his eyes to look down, he sees that he's actually holding out the lump he saw him holding earlier. And upon closer inspection, it's just a paper towel wrapped around something that he holds at the ends to form a sort of ball. Harry's face is as impassive as he's ever seen, moving his hand slightly so that whatever's inside rattles like marbles.

Harry seemingly waits for a second, judging whether Louis' going to slap him away or take it himself. But honestly, Louis is curious as to what it is. When he doesn't do anything, he slowly moves to press it back against the side of his jaw. It's still cold, but this time he can feel moisture seeping through onto his skin. Ice.

"You should ice that. It's getting worse."

Louis can't say he's ever been more surprised by his action. This boy is like the definition of hot and cold. One minute, he's teasing, the next, he's angry, and then he does something like this. It feels like such an odd thing for him to do, and Louis wonders if he should be suspicious or not. Harry motions for him to take it, so he does – cautiously and slowly. He's careful not to touch any of his fingers during the transfer. Is this a trick of some kind?

But it can't be a trick because as soon as Louis' got a grip, his hand is gone and he's starting the car. There's no mischievous twinkle in his eye or a twitch to his lips. He simply just puts the car in reverse and pulls out. He probably got sick of looking at his puffy face. Louis snags his bottom lip with his teeth and mumbles a quiet, "thanks" anyway.

Harry doesn't respond to his gratitude, but Louis doesn't really expect anything different. Louis reaches down to grab his bag, hauling it onto his lap so he can root through it. He quickly finds what he's looking for, pulling them out and slipping them on. He likes wearing glasses. They make the world so crisp and pretty instead of blurred edges and shapes, and he always thought he felt bare without the frames weighing on the bridge of his nose.

Looking back out the window, he realizes that Harry is actually driving somewhat reasonably. His lips are pursed like he's tense or thinking about something. Pretty intently, might he add. And Louis thinks that maybe if Harry can do something like this more often – show him he's trustworthy, he can maybe let him drive again.

A couple of blocks from their house, he reaches to the dashboard and turns down the radio, eyes flitting over to Louis. "So who exactly is your friend? Niel, was it? What's his story or whatever?"

That's unexpected. For some reason his mind flashes back to what Niall said about Harry being jealous, but he squelches it. There's no way he's jealous. Harry probably doesn't even like guys. And he knows for certain that he doesn't like him. However, when he looks again, he appears a little ruffled or something. Which is definitely unusual for someone like him.

"It's Niall," he corrects, but the flash of an eye roll from Harry told him he doesn't really care. "And, um, I don't know." He adjusts the make-shift ice pack, switching hands so he can wipe his numb, wet one on his jeans. "He's been my best mate since I started high school. He's really sweet – a little loud sometimes, but I think I've over looked that for the most part. And he's been there for me when no one else was. I think he's the only real friend I have." He makes sure not to elaborate on how and why exactly he's had to be there for him because the less Harry knows, the better, but he already feels like he gave away too much about himself. He sinks down in the passenger seat a little, pulling down the sides of his beanie.

"Oh." That's all he says, and Louis doesn't ask for him to say anything more. He's probably just curious anyway.

Louis licks his lips nervously, wondering if this would be a good time to keep a conversation going. Harry's not being nasty at the moment, and he's actually kind of curious as to what his answer will be, so he takes the leap and takes Niall's advice.

"So, um, how was school? Did you make any friends?"

Harry glances at him briefly, pulling into their driveway. It's hard to read what he's feeling, and Louis genuinely thinks he should take up poker because he's really good at being unreadable. He's learned how to read body language pretty well, but this boy is just a mystery. Maybe that's why he can never seem to get him out of his mind.

He yanks the keys out of the ignition after placing it in park, laying his forearm across the steering wheel to address him. "Maybe."

Louis drops his gaze for a second, debating on asking another question because that really wasn't much of a conversation. And Harry doesn't make an immediate move to get out. But he can tell from the way he plays with the ring on his finger that he's really not all that thrilled about the topic of friends. He opens his mouth to ask something else, but Harry beats him to it, staring directly into his eyes as he says it.

"Your car smells good."

Louis raises an eyebrow. "Good?"

Is that some kind of code or something that's supposed to mean something else? Because he's always thought it smelled like old coffee and sweat. Inhaling now, it doesn't smell any different than he remembers, and Louis doesn't understand why he thinks it smells good. Louis' even pretty sure he has some dirty soccer socks lying on the floor somewhere in the back.

Wrinkles appear in his nose as Louis reacts the way he does, clearly uncomfortable with the way he changed the subject. He doesn't bother explaining what he means, throwing the door open and it's weird. It feels weird that their roles have suddenly changed and Harry's the one who can't start a conversation. But, then again, maybe it was just a simple remark. Either way, Louis finds it more adorable than he should.

Harry also apparently doesn't bother waiting to see if he needs help getting out, grabbing his shake from the cup holder and his bag from the back seat and stepping inside. Louis assumes that his luck for the day has run out.

"Oh, don't worry," he grumbles to no one in particular. "I'll just crawl my way inside then."