Creative Writing: Strangers In The Dumpster

They met in a mid december night, how cold it was is something Louis remembers very well, so different from the light and gentle breeze that instead was blowing that evening, while he was waiting for him sitting down on stool in a bar.
Without any apparent reason, probably in lack of something better to do , he started thinking about that night and, as usual, he wasn’t surprised of finding out that all he could remember was the cold. The cold. Only the cold. And his smile.

“Why on the earth I even asked him out…” he thought.

Mildly annoyed, with the thoughts still lingering on that night, he let his eyes wandering on the faces of the passers. A strand of curls fells in front of his eyes, and with a lazy, mechanic gesture he capture it passing

As a clear more proof, Harry’s mouth is a thin line and his fingers are nervously tapping on the counter.

“Oh dear Lord. What have I done now?”

And there he is again. That’s Harry. Harry who he does not understand. The same Harry that doesn’t talk to him. The very same Harry that drives him crazy. Every single fucking time.
They can’t stand each other, everyone knows that. Close together in a room they will last less than thirty seconds, everyone knows that.
But Louis knows that it isn’t true. He knows the truth. God, he wants him so badly and knowing that Harry despite him so much only increase his desire. Nobody else can have what they have. Nobody. Louis wants to be the only one who can-

“So” Harry says interrupting his thoughts, “Can I know the reason behind this ‘meeting’ or do I have to guess?”
“Why must there always be a reason, Harry?”
“Because with you, there is always one. You need a favor, you need someone to talk, you need a fuck. There’s always something.” Harry says, and even if he’s not shouting he spits the last words like venom.
“Again... maybe I just really wanted to see

If they could they would kill each other, but then they always end up in each other’s arms, without understand why.

“You cannot take me, drag me away and kiss whenever you like” Harry says, trying to hide a smirk.
“That so? I thought you liked it...”
“That doesn’t change anything! You... you... I don’t understand you and, and-” then again, Louis’ lips are on his, but this time harry slaps him in the face, “You cannot do that! You can’t kiss just to shut me up, you are-”
“An asshole, a jerk, a dickhead, a moron, you hate me to death. Yeah. Can we stop now? Can we... why can’t you always be the boy that I had in my arms moments ago?”
“It will not happen again.” Harry says, and it sounds like he’s mostly trying to convince himself.
“You keep saying it. We kiss, we fuck, we hug each other with the fear of letting go and then we fight and you run away. Until the next time.”
“Well, you’re used to quick fuck, aren’t you? That’s all you know. That’s all you want.” Harry spits like venom, with a murderous look in his eyes.
“It’s been two months, Harry. And you’re the only one I’m sleeping with.”
“Should I be honored?”
“Can you just shut up and fucking kiss me for once?” Louis