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 "I want a divorce."

And Harry's only just walked in the front door, sports bag slung over shoulder, hair properly disheveled, face looking beyond the point of caring anymore. And he's just there. There's nothing special about him, he's only present and that's it.

He would be lying, Harry, if he said he wasn't expecting it. If he acted shocked. But you are no one to think that it didn't hurt all the same. Even more so, perhaps, living every day waiting for Louis to say something, to bring it up. 

And so here he is. There he is. There they both are. And Harry only sighs, shutting the door with a soft click and dropping his bag on the floor just to the side, walking over to the island silently. He hasn't looked at Louis, not since the moment he uttered those words. Which really is a lot longer than it seems. They're both in silence now, Louis watching Harry carefully as he pulls down a glass - one of their proper alcohol ones - and turns over to their mini bar shelves, reaching for the gin in silence.

"Want a glass?" He asks finally, breaking the silence as he takes a sip and leans over the counter, still adamantly avoiding looking at Louis. 

"No." Is all Louis says, and it's not rude. Just stale. 

Harry gives a slight smile and a small huff of air as if in mock of a laugh and even though Louis can only see his profile he knows it's one of those ironic smiles of disbelief Harry rarely pulls. Harry's eyebrow cocks. "You know, it's actually probably good you didn't want one. Might've thrown the glass at you." He says, taking another sip.

And now Louis' flustered and annoyed and Harry's childish behavior about the situation is absolutely infuriating. But he tries to calm himself. "Really Harry, you're going to act like this? I brought up divorce and you're really just going to avoid the conversation all together? This is happening Harry, and I'd like to talk about it with you like the adults that we are." Louis says, more or less through his teeth. 

Harry's reaction is brash. He slams the cup on the counter top harshly, turning over and shouting at Louis: "Then would you mind turning around, Louis? Would that be such a bother to you? Do you want to punish me for not being able to look at your face anymore as well? Because God knows as long as you're here and as long as this is happening I can't look at you without wanting to die." And Harry hadn't meant to say that. Louis' shocked and perhaps a bit hurt, but fuck him, he has no right to be. It's over. Harry sighs, his head hanging between his shoulders as his knuckles turn white from clenching the counter top. He's trying to calm himself, he really is. "It fucking hurts, Louis. It really does."

Louis gulps dryly but manages to make himself superior over his emotions despite the slight shake in his voice. "What does, Harry? What hurts?"

"You!" And now Harry's really shouting. "Looking at you and wondering where the hell I went wrong is what hurts, Louis." His name passes his lips and it's almost as if he's disgusted, spitting them out like poison. Louis was fine about this before - more fine than now, that is - keeping his emotions to himself and the walls of his bedroom at night (as Harry had recently been sleeping on the couch), but no one's ever been able to make him react like Harry does. And it's really terrible, all of this, but this is what they've been leading to for the past few years and they both know it. Knew it. Still.

"Well," Louis says softly, the lump in his throat he's desperately trying to hold back making his voice shaky. "I'm sorry you feel that way, Harry." He says, wiping roughly at a stray tear that managed to leave his eye. He sniffles and clears his throat. "I'm going to visit my mum tomorrow, I'll be back in a few days. For now, though, I'll be up in my room. Packing."


They get a divorce. It hurts.

"Hey Harry, you wanna know something?" Louis asks on top of a sleepy Harry, eyes wide and cute and innocent and if Harry was sleepy before, all he wants to do right now is grab Louis and roll him over and kiss him all over the face before pulling him in and just cuddling him. He holds himself back.

Harry smiles. "What?" He asks tiredly, eyes half opened and lovingly on Louis.

"You've got a nice bum." And Harry can't hold back the bark of laughter that erupts from his throat because only Louis, only Louis would. 

"You kept me up at two in the morning to tell me that, Louis?" 

Louis smiles mischievously. "Problem?" 

Harry just looks at him.  

"You." He says and Louis' head tilts in confusion, eyebrows furrowing as he looks at Harry. "You are my problem. Do you wanna know something, Louis?"

Louis doesn't say anything.

"It's two in the morning, you've got all your weight on me - which, by the way, is a damn lot for two in the morning - and you won't let me get to sleep, yet I can't find it in me to be bothered by it. You know how I feel right now, Louis?"

Louis shakes his head, hands splayed across Harry's chest in anticipation.

"Like kissing you. I feel like I'm the luckiest person on earth, like I never want you to leave me. Like I want to be with you forever. That's how I feel right now, Louis. That's how I'll always feel."

Harry's left with the house and really it's actually good luck because if not he'd probably be out living on the streets somewhere. Doesn't make a difference, never will. Harry doesn't feel anything anymore and it's alright, he doesn't quite care anymore. He tried to cry the first few nights left in the house alone (forever), but it just ended up with him staring at a wall or the ceiling or just plain nothing with a pain in his throat he couldn't quite place. He hardly had thoughts, or maybe he had so many that he just forgot them all, he's not sure. 

His days from then on were cold (air conditioner) and quiet and filled with alcohol and just there. They were just days and hours and minutes, they no longer meant anything. He was just there, life was just there and that's all it was. There. He didn't drink to suppress his emotions or any of that other stuff they put in movies, he drank because he didn't know what else to do. He was numb and his whole life was gray. He wasn't an alcoholic, he just drank a lot of alcohol.

He tried watching divorce movies on Netflix, figured that maybe they'd pull some kind of emotion out of him. He watched every single last one of them and didn't feel a thing. There was nothing left in him and he couldn't find it in him to care. He did have random outbursts of tears, though. Just random episodes where his emotions came out on overflow for no reason at all and Harry couldn't figure out why but he didn't mind it. It was nice to feel sometimes, but if he had to choose he'd probably choose to be numb for the rest of his life - mostly because that's all he knew anymore. 

Sometimes Harry cries at night. Just small little tears, nothing much. What gets him most is the lonely sheets of the bed. Cold. He doesn't often venture to thinking about Louis, but sometimes he wonders if the sheets had always felt this cold and if Louis' new ones feel the same. If Louis' found someone new to share them with.

 He wasn't depressed, just living. Just there. 


Harry used to think he was lucky. Used to think that maybe he should probably count his blessings - which he did - and hope that, if things didn't get better than they already were, things wouldn't get bad. Harry now realizes that he probably didn't really see Louis for what he was worth in his life. How much it would hurt if he left him. He was all awe struck and heart eyes with him all the time, but sometimes Harry wonders if maybe he didn't tell him enough times that he loved him. He said it often and even more in his head, but maybe that was never enough. Maybe this is all his fault.

"So how're you holding up, then? Harry?" Niall's been kind enough to Harry, avoiding the topic but now Harry's just blatantly not present in mind and Niall knew he'd have to get around to it at some point. 

"Yeah, uh, yeah, alright." Harry stutters on autopilot. He doesn't care. (He's also used to it.) Niall looks at him weird, but he doesn't say anything, just sips his coffee. Harry's is still on the table, probably gone cold as he hasn't touched it once. 

"How is he?" Harry broaches quietly. He's trying to seem casual about it, like it really doesn't matter, but he knows it shows on his face. On his entirety. Niall sighs.

"Harry, do you know how long it's been?" Harry shrugs.

"A month." Niall sets his cup down and now he's looking at Harry with concerned eyes and Harry isn't enjoying it. He scoots back into his chair casually.

"Six, Harry. It's been six months since the break up. Where the hell have you been?"

Harry's shocked at this new information and he's also a bit confused and feeling some emotion at Niall's harshness but he's not sure what. He furrows his eyebrows. "Hibernating." He offers as an explanation. He was trying to be funny, really, but Niall's not having any of it. 

He sighs. "Look, Harry, I know that - what happened - was really tough and all, and I get it, I totally do, but that doesn't mean you have to hide yourself or you should feel like you can  hide yourself, because you can't. Alright? I know that it sucks, but we're your friends and you don't get to break up with us. You just don't."

Harry looks at Niall and he doesn't know what to say. After moments of confused contemplation he decides to throw it back at Niall. "How is he?" He asks, and this time he's serious. "If you're my friend and you're worried and you care, you'll tell me how he is. I promise I'll get out more, I'll go to the gym or something, I just want to know. That's all. I just want to know."

Niall sighs and it's probably the fiftieth time he's done it but Harry doesn't care, he just wants to know. "When you two first split, he was really broken. He was just awful, bags under his eyes, body beginning to frail, loss of appetite. He was entirely broken. He got himself an apartment up North and just stayed there everyday. Went to the shops with hunched shoulders and just a cloud above his head. He didn't care anymore and he only went to the shops because I made him. He was really messed up over you, still is, but he's...better now." Niall pauses and Harry's eyebrow quirks in casual interest.

"Apparently he made nice with a guy who's mam lived next door to him. It's a cute little story actually, he knocked on the wrong door with flowers in his hands and Louis took them and sent him off, told him to bring him a better quality bouquet next time he decided to pop by and shut the door on him. Four months later and they're talking now, taking things slow. The guy - Jack, such a child's name - he understands and doesn't pressure him or even offer to take things to the next step, leaves it all up to Louis.

"They go on a lot of 'first'' dates as well as second and thirds. They've probably been on four third dates already, but it's good, he's happy, happier. Louis likes him, but he's still scared. Hurt. He still loves you, but he's moving on. Slowly. Getting on with life." Niall pauses for a second and Harry stays silent, almost wonders what Louis has to be hurt about. "That's you, Harry, you've got to get on with life already. I know it's early and fresh and you're still not feeling or whatever, but it's bound to happen at some point. Do it."

Niall gets up at those words and leaves with the simple explanation of an appointment for his pregnant wife, a kiss to Harry's temple, and his last words left ringing in Harry's ears.

"Life moves on, you should too."


Harry never once thought that he deserved better than Louis, that perhaps he had settled for less than what life could offer him, and maybe it's just the shock of everything Niall had said and his harshness going about it, but Harry's pretty sure it almost if not precisely sounded like that's what Niall was trying to say - that he deserves better.

So he lays there, still in his bed and clutching the sheets under his chin, staring at the half moon illuminated wall in front of him without thought. Harry hasn't done this in a while and he figures it's some kind of natural defense mechanism his mind had set up when Louis left him that just shut down when he was confused or when a certain topic arose that might hurt him in the end. So he just lays there. He's not sure what time he made it home, but he knows he stayed at the coffee shop for a while after Niall left. He's just not sure how long.

Harry wonders if this is what it feels like when someone you love dies. If this cold, dark, numb, emptiness is what people dealt with upon losing someone. The only sad part is that Harry didn't lose Louis for any reason beyond this world, but rather for reasons stuck up in Louis' head.

He didn't want me. He doesn't want me. 

Harry doesn't mean to be bitter, and he knows that he is when he says it, but that's gotta be much worse than losing someone.

Harry didn't lose Louis, Louis left him. 

How sad.


Harry never much payed attention to local news, rather sat with a blank expression on his face and watched distantly the deadly fire of a crashed plane or some cute segment about dogs and butterflies, but that's not to say Harry wasn't all for Niall's gossip. In fact, it's what Harry recently decided to live for. 

He doesn't listen half the time of course, nods occasionally as Niall continues his seemingly never ending tale of whatever as he sips his tea gone cold and scarfs down his lemon cake or whatever other pastry Niall had decided to buy him whenever. Niall's a good friend. Harry does tune in however when he hears mention of Louis. And sometimes it's just that someone else brought him up in a conversation Niall's recounting to Harry and sometimes it's small, cautious, but too good updates on Louis and 'the mam guy ?' (Harry knows very well it's Jack), as Harry always asks in false clarification, to be held back for the simple politeness of a long done divorce. 

Niall really thinks Harry's finally moving on and for a while Harry begins to believe it too, starts to regain lost hope and feel emotions like slight happiness and laughter again when Niall's around, trailing him all the way home where he sighs at the cold and shoves himself into bed even at two in the afternoon. 

When Harry's with Niall he begins to believe, begins to (and does) fool himself into thinking that he's probably maybe getting better again, that he's all right. But when Harry's alone, dropped off at his lonely front door to enter his lonely house by Niall, well that's when Harry remembers things again. That's when Harry sighs. 

That's when Harry decides to buy a flat. 


"I want this one, Harry." Louis whispers softly as they trail their realtor around the large expanse of the house, hands clutching at Harry's bicep in excitement. 

Harry looks down and smiles. "This one?" 

Louis nods.

"What about the other one, the one with the pool? Quite liked that one." Harry says softly, pouting. 

Louis shakes his head. "No Harry, I want this one. This is where I want to raise our kids. Or dogs, whichever." Harry looks at him through slanted lids.


Louis smiles and it's overly ecstatic. Harry really wants to kiss him. 


Harry's decision ends up taking longer than planned, but he got caught between two houses and he was really dreading packing so, you know, why not take his time? In the end Harry's final decision is a good one, hopefully. The house isn't large, but it isn't small either. It's just perfect for him and his one man band of a life. Enthusiastic YEAH.

Harry sighs. He's only just entered his new home all brandished and burnished with his tidings from the old place. Harry didn't have to worry about anything that was Louis', everything he left disappeared whenever Harry left the house, one by one each day. It wasn't dramatic nor was it particularly sad, but Harry noticed. He noticed.

He sets his bags down and makes his way to his new kitchen, grabbing the few groceries he bought on the way and deciding on a microwave soup for supper. He sets himself a stand up tray by the sofa, putting on a film and pouring himself a bottle of his favorite red wine. It's a lonely night, but it's a good one. A new beginning. Harry doesn't think much that night beyond really wanting to thank the moving company for doing such a good job because even if they hadn't he wouldn't have moved anything.


Harry's self-thrown house warming party is very, well, warming. He's a bit awkward at first as he welcomes everyone in and hopes that he bought enough chips, dip, and soda, taking a mental count and trying to figure out some ratio, but soon he gives up and just welcomes people in with an awkward smile and casual drink in his hand. (Harry was never good at math.) Ultimately it's safe to say that Harry is and forever will be eternally grateful for the amazing friends he has, not waiting a single second to jump in for a hug and greet Harry before he had a chance to blink, let alone greet them first. 

And as the night goes on and Harry greets - or rather gets greeted by - his guests at the door, he learns to loosen up and have fun and be happybecause that's what this is all about. The alcohol in his hand isn't all that bad at helping either, but it's not a bitter drink and a bitter sip and a bitter help, it's a helpful, happy help is all it is. 

Harry's in the middle of a very drunk, very enthusiastically goofy conversation with Zayn and some friends, wondering why it is he ever pushed these people away and lost touch when Niall arrives, late as usual, with his perfect excuse. ("I won't be late again, just got caught up is all. Nice to see you, by the way, doing good? Great. Oh, hey, didn't see you there, how are you all? Hey, where should I put the drinks? I brought enough to get a Captain drunk.") 

And Harry's having a good time, perhaps not the time of his life (since most of that was spent up on Louis) but certainly getting there, laughing and being goofy and giddy and just plain old happy that Niall doesn't think twice about what he needs to tell Harry. Figures he, in his drunken state, can handle it. Niall lures him away from the crowd with the simple request of his company in the kitchen, offering a beer. They clink glasses and say cheers, Harry making some stupid joke that makes no sense and Niall unable to keep himself from laughing at the stupidity of this man, laughing into his own bottle of beer. They're both drunk and just straight up incoherent with happiness that it's refreshing for them all. 

"Oi, Harry, before I forget to tell you," Niall says, cutting his laughter off as he remembers the real reason he invited him away from the crowd, "I hope you don't mind, I didn't think you would, but I invited Louis. Is that alright? He was hesitant at first, said you wouldn't want him here, but I told him that you'd mentioned inviting him, but got caught up with drinks and stuff that you asked me to invite company. That's alright, right?" 

Harry's not drunk anymore, and it's easy to say that he's certainly not happy. Not even in illusion. Harry's smiles falls slightly and he can feel the tears pricking at the back of his eyes, trying desperately to climb out and show everyone how Harry's really feeling, but he doesn't let that happen, keeps it all in. Harry smiles at Niall.

"Yeah, 'course. Why not? The more the merrier, ey?" He adds in hope that he's selling this nonchalant attitude he's trying to appear to have. Maybe it's the beer or maybe Niall genuinely believes him, but Harry thanks the Gods that he doesn't press any further, simply squeezes Harry's shoulder and talks to him like everything's all right.

"Glad to hear it," He says, "Who knows, might be good to see him again." And with that Niall spots someone - Zayn, probably - over Harry's shoulder and walks off shouting drunkenly at him, goofy smile and all. Harry takes a swig of his beer and tries to keep himself from thinking about it, pulling down shot glasses and tequila deciding that his beer wasn't going to be enough.

"Shots anyone?" He shouts holding up a shot glass and tequila, keeping up appearances as the happy host of the warming party that suddenly turned cold. Harry decides he should probably turn off the AC.


Evidently enough keeping up appearances was an easy success, everyone drunk and cheering for shots, holding up their downed glasses of alcohol. Harry was soon forgotten about as everyone hopped in on the fun, sitting back and watching passively in the kitchen as people cheered and clinked and took body shots on the bar of his kitchen. Harry was remembered at one point, pressured into laying on the counter so someone could take a shot off him, but he kindly declined with a small smirk and swig of his beer, claiming that sitting back and watching all the fun was enough for him.

Harry doesn't mean to but he's constantly looking at the door, just small glimpses, the hope forever in his heart that Louis will turn up, even if only for five minutes, even if only just long enough to memorize the colors in his eyes or the way they look in person. Even if only just long enough to break his heart again. Even if. 

After Niall told Harry he had only a one-track mind, destination of hope ending on Louis and his arrival. That's all Harry wanted, and though he told himself he'd be fine with it if he didn't show up, that everything would be alright, he knew himself better than that, especially after all this time alone. And Harry got drunk. Harry got really drunk, but not the good kind, not the happy kind. He got the kind of drunk you get when you're trying to forget something, someone, the kind of drunk that only makes you think of what you're trying to forget that much more. 

As it turns out, Louis didn't even have to show up to break Harry's heart again, so he doesn't. Louis doesn't show up and Harry's still on the floor for him.

One by one everyone begins making their way out, couples, singles, friends, people, bodies with perfectly beating hearts, thoughts without a clue. They all leave, they're all gone, just like that. Soon enough it's just Niall and Zayn left. trailing closely after the group of friends who decided to share a cab. They reach the door and Harry's there to say goodbye to them, tired eyes showing all the vulnerability he was trying to hide, all the emotions. Zayn says nothing, simply gives Harry's shoulder a reassuring squeeze and pulling him in for a hug before exiting, jacket in hand. Niall stares at Harry for a moment and it's a sorrowful kind of stare, a sorrowful silence before he throws an arm around Harry's neck and pulls him in for a hug. No words are exchanged except Niall's quiet 'I'm sorry' and the hug is everything Harry needs and it's all that Niall can give him. He's thankful for it.

Harry sniffles softly and it's all he can do to keep from breaking down right there and then, giving Niall a small smile as he shuts the door on Niall's sorrowful one, breaking down as soon as the door clicks. He hadn't meant to hope so much or care but he did and fuck does it hurt. He only lets himself cry for a little, shaking and convincing himself to bathe and soothe himself to sleep. So he does, he takes a shower and it's nice, the lump in his throat hurts, but he only cries once or twice for brief moments of weakness, mustering up all the strength he has left to get out and take care of himself like he should. Dry himself, put lotion on, comb his hair, look himself in the mirror. His eyes are rimmed with red and his face is slightly blotchy but Harry looks in the mirror anyway.

"Everything's going to be okay." He says, watching as his eyes water upon the apparent lie. He convinces himself anyway, scrubs the few stray tears away and gives himself a smile just because he can and, yes! He's still capable of it!

That's gotta be a start. 

When Harry gets back to bed, under the covers all warm and cuddled up from the cold of the house, just on the verge of sleep his phone buzzes. Harry sighs but turns over anyway, reaching for the device and holding it a bit away so his eyes can adjust.


Louis: Congratulations, Harry. I'm really happy for you


Louis: It's Louis, in case you haven't got my number anymore or something

Harry's eyes have adjusted, but he's not sure he mind has. It's a scary feeling and Harry's heart flutters in the way that he knows so well and it sucks. And then he feels a pull. His phone buzzes again.


Louis: I'm so sorry.

And then his heart hurts. He almost tells him it's okay.


"You know what's fun?"


"Loving you." 


Niall's wife is near due to pop out his first daughter, and Niall feels like celebrating. 

"Although I'm sure we were all hoping for a boy - especially if he were to take after his father, I mean look at me. Hey!" Nialls cheers drunkenly, standing on a chair and really not even feigning pain because his wife is pregnant and her punch god damn hurt. He laughs drunkenly to himself, drink still in the air as he makes the most adoring eyes at his wife and the look she's giving him. "No, in all seriousness we're probably all much happier that it turned out a girl - imagine any child that would look like me." The crowd laughs and Niall looks over at his wife, taking her hand in his, eyes glued to hers. It's obvious they're in love.

"Anyone who wouldn't want their child to look like this beautiful, amazing woman right here would be right mad. And I'm so glad I found her." It's a sincere toast and Niall's so lost in his wife's eyes that it brings him back to reality when everyone cheers and whistles and, yes, after about thirty beers, cries. 

Harry only claps from the back of the crowd, calling out drunken things to Niall congratulating his baby, his happiness, and his relationship. They're so in love it hurts. It hurts Harry. But he can't be selfish like that. 

They're all gathered at Niall's house - friends, family, people, life. It's all there, all of it and it's something that Harry has trouble trying to grasp. He tries, he really does, he tries to understand that he's not just another man in the crowd, that he's not just there, that he is an actual presence, an actual living, breathing soul and friend of Niall's. He tries to understand but it's something he's not used to, not anymore. It's been six months since his house warming, a total of a year and some since he and Louis split. And it's not as if Harry's been inside since then, he comes out more often than he did at first, takes baby steps with Niall's friendly hand to grasp as his wobbly legs get used to the impossible. It's been good, Harry's been good. Harry is okay. 

Niall's place is nice and very new to Harry. It's big and spacious and beautiful and it kinda makes Harry's look like a dump but he doesn't really care, he's here because he loves Niall and Niall loves him and that's all. Harry's got money, if he wanted to show off he could, but that's not his goal in life. He's already given half his savings to charity, it's just cold cash, sitting there without a thing to do. So why not?

Harry takes a breath and sets his drink down, heading for the loo to calm himself, pat cold water on his face and go out with his best fake smile. Faking it tonight turns out to be much harder than it's ever been.

He ends up at a table with Louis. And flower guy, whatever the fuck his name is. It's not bad, despite the pang that Harry feels upon seeing Louis' face and seeing it happy and seeing him conversing and laughing and being perfect and making Harry feel pale and wanting to go to a corner and just be alone and cry, kinda like high school all over again - no, it's not bad at all, not really. 

And it's good because all of their friends are there, and if Harry knows how to make friends - which he does, most of the time - he knows how to make good friends, friends who won't let a simple little fact such as divorce between mutual friends hinder good conversation or enthusiasm in seeing both friends, together or not. So conversation is easy, and the lump Harry feels in his throat begins to fade away, at least the pain of it. It's nice, but Harry's constantly conscious of Louis just across the table from him, doing things that would allow him a casual, subtle glimpse at Louis, things like looking for Niall or acting as if on hold, looking around and waiting for the other participant in his conversation to, well, participate. Laughing loudly to see if he can catch Louis' attention or shielding himself from Louis' entire view just because he can't keep himself from just wanting to look over and stare at his god damn beautiful face and beautiful eyes and just cry because where the hell did he go wrong?

And Harry gets his chance to. 

Everyone at the table slowly starts making their way off for different reasons; to wander, because they've just spotted a friend - whatever the matter, they all left until it was just Harry and one of his oldest friends in deep conversation with Louis and his, person, just across the table from them, and then it was just Harry and Louis. And, you know, that guy.

The two are in quiet conversation together, heads bowed and talking as if it's all some sort of secret and Louis has those crinkles at the corner of his eyes but Harry can tell this all just awkward for Louis, trying to act nonchalant as Harry sits slumped in the chair across him, swirling his liquor around in the glass. Louis and his man whisper a few more things, Louis' smile widening and crinkles deepening before the other gets up, leaning and pecking a kiss on his lips.

Louis smiles and pulls away, hand on the side of the man's face. "Bring me some champagne, will you?"

Harry should have left a long time ago, left this table, left this room, left this house, left this party, left this country a long time ago, but he didn't because Louis' right here and how do you even handle a situation like that? Harry is not weak, Harry is strong.

Or maybe not. 

"'Course." The man smiles and Harry looks up just as he's about to walk off, looking over smiling politely at Harry before making his way to the drinks. 

"Keeper." Is all Harry says, eyes on his drink as he takes a swig. Louis sighs. "I meant that." Harry says, eyes finally meeting Louis' in a cold gaze. Louis just stares at him for a moment, eyes squinted only in the slightest. It's not that he was scrutinizing Harry, but it was rather a sign of how emotionally exhausted and hurt he truly was when he wasn't hiding it with Mr. Perfect. Harry's heart clenches, but he doesn't show it.

"C'mon, old friends we are!" Louis stays silent, just staring at Harry, just looking at him. "No, you're right. Fuck that. We barely know each other."

Louis clears his throat, sitting back in his chair, drink in his hand and just looking at Harry. Just looking. "How are you, Harry?

Harry gives a laugh of disbelief, short and sharp. "God, don't ask me that."

"Harry, I-"

"No!" Harry shouts. He hadn't meant to, but for fuck's sake. He takes a breath and a swig of his brandy, exhaling roughly as it passes. "You know," he begins, "I'd felt heartbreak in my life only twice before. The first time back in sixth form. Pathetic, I know. She was nice though, pretended she cared." Harry takes another swig of his drink and Louis tries not to cringe because he knows it shouldn't bother him that Harry was with a girl before, shouldn't bother him that Harry was with anyone before and certainly not if he's with someone now. Which he's not. But it's still a fresh wound. 

"We hardly talked. Had one class with her but we got paired for a project and after that we just texted a lot. Only after school though and on weekends, she might've been popular but she wouldn't be caught dead texting me. And I accepted it, welcomed it, even. It was sad, really, the entire thing. Anyway in the end she got a boyfriend - biggest jock of the school, actually - and never spoke to me again. Hardly glanced my way, really." Harry's silent for a moment, staring at the dark gold colored liquid in his glass.

"Was my first heartbreak. Absolute shit it was. And do you know how long it took me to get over it, Louis?" Louis stays silent. "Two years. Two whole years for the sum of three months. That is what love is, that is all love is." Harry's breathing hard now and his face is filled with disgust.

 "Heartache, heartbreak" He says, and it's venomous, the way he utters it. "How dare such a feeling exist, how dare you ask me something like that."

Louis' silent. He doesn't know how he's supposed to respond to such hurt, not after everything they've been through. Truthfully, though, he did used to know, and maybe he still does. He knows perfectly well that all Harry needs is to get the alcohol ripped from his hand and have a warm cup of tea instead, a nice long movie - romcom, probably - a good show, and a good night's rest. Yeah. Louis used to know how to comfort Harry. The Harry he knew. But not now. Not after everything they've been through.

Louis doesn't think he'll ever get the chance to comfort him again.

Harry continues. "It was all gray after that, my life. I cried a lot the first year, overly so. And yet, as much as I try, the only way I can describe it is gray. Everything around me was just a blur, a schedule of daily events that meant nothing to me at all. I had trust issues after that and all I remember was the numbness of it all. I cried because it hurt and then I cried because it felt right. Because it felt right. Two years and not crying was weird, out of the ordinary. Of course, as the second year began I got better. Didn't cry as much, but I didn't feel anymore - everything was numb and dull and boring. I didn't know how to feel anymore. If I wasn't feeling sad or hurt or betrayed then I wasn't feeling anything at all. And that was normal, that was good. I wasn't sad, but I wasn't depressed either. And to counter that I wasn't happy

"I was tired. And sometimes tired people are bored, and sometimes bored people just can't find a valuable reason to be alive anymore. Can't quite find it in themselves to mind if they fall asleep and never wake up again. You know what that feels like, Louis? To just feel tired? Perhaps not the death part, no maybe not, but certainly the tired part, yeah? I mean, isn't that why we sit where we do today? 'Cause you were just tired, weren't you, Louis? Tired of our life, tired of our relationship, tired of us? You know what I mean, then, when I say I was just tired, I guarantee it."

"Now Harry," Louis tries to intervene, but Harry cuts him off.

"Louis Tomlinson," he says, tutting in disappointment, "I haven't finished my story yet. Didn't your mother ever teach you proper manners? How is she, by the way, haven't seen her in ages. Ah - never mind that. Heart break two is rather boring, actually. Very brief as well. Had it under false pretenses. Cried like a baby, though. It really hurt. You know, they always say the first cut is the worst, but I disagree. Cutting over the wound a second time is far worse than splitting it open the first time. Don't ask me who they is of course, I haven't the faintest. Still. It hurt for a bit. Ended up all right in the end I guess. Owner of my virginity." Louis cringes this time, not even able to hold it back as he takes a swig of his own drink and tries not to let Harry's dry, false half-smile get to him.

"And then I met you," he continues, half squinted eyes staring Louis down contemplatively. It's a harsh stare and Louis tries really hard to keep himself from looking away. "Worst by far. You know what you meant to me, Louis? You didn't mean the world, you were the world. Hung up the stars I wished for you on, painted the sky, gave the world color. Firsts and lasts are always the worst, it's written in history, you know. But hey, third time's the charm. Allow me to reassure you, though, you'll definitely be my last. Unless I get a dog or something and he dies. That'll hurt. Not nearly as much as this, though," He says gesturing openly to their current situation. "So don't ask me that. You don't get to ask me that, yeah?" Louis' silent still, just looking at Harry and all his hurt. The moments that pass are silent.

"You know, I'll probably get a cat." He says. 

"Harry-" Louis tries. 

"They've got nine lives, you know? Die once still get to keep him for eight more."

"Harry-" Louis tries again, but Harry continues.

"Then again, cats leave. They're always leaving you and you know sometimes they don't ever come back. Disappear out the door and we convince ourselves that they were eaten by some... by some bear or something. " Harry laughs dryly, looking at his glass. "A bear. A bear in the backyard that ate our cat because we can't stand the thought that the probable answer to all our questions is that they left us. Walked away and never turned back, just like everyone else in our pathetic lives." And Harry spits the words like it's grain, rough and disgusting, a cloud of hurt and lonliness left to hang around after.

"Harry, I only wanted to know-" 

"No,"  Harry says, "You don't get to know. You don't get to want. Don't ever ask me that question again. No, better yet, don't ask about me again." Harry's standing up now, leaning over so he's in Louis' face and every pair of eyes around them is staring but he doesn't notice, doesn't care. "I'm tired, Lou." He whispers and he can feel the lump in his throat forming. Louis has a lump forming in his own throat - he hadn't meant to hurt Harry, not like this, not at all, and it's the first time Harry's not called him by his proper name in a long time now and Louis wishes he could get it all back, wishes he had never wished in the first place. Fuck.

"And sometimes, Louis, sometimes tired people do crazy things. I'm not saying I'm going to walk out of here and murder someone, not saying I'm gonna go slap my mum and jump off a building. All I'm saying is when you're tired, and boy am I tired, sometimes it all becomes too much. Someone pushes you to your limits and it's all you can do to hold on to that last thread of hope that something, anything will wake you up, make you want to live again." Harry's eyes are watery now and he can't help himself. 

He stands up and scrubs his hand roughly where his tears fell on his cheek, finishes his drink, fixes his coat and walks out, uttering only a few words before his watery-eyed departure. Shaky and broken.

"Don't push me, Lou." 


 Harry walks out and doesn't really know what's happening, not entirely in control of his everything. He sets himself behind the wheel of his car and just drives, takes to the road without any real destination, just road, just wheels, just him. He's crying off and on and it's really quite unsafe that he's doing this, hell, he can hardly see the stoplights. He drives far and safe enough, though, far and safe enough to take a break and just bawl, wipe his tears, look himself in the rear view mirror and cry again. He decides that if he stays in the car any longer he'll end up bawling himself to sleep in the parking lot, wherever he is. So he gets out, grabs his wallet, sniffles as hard as he can, rubs away wetness from under his eyes and nose and hops out of the car, hoping for a bathroom.

Evidently enough parking lot to who knows where ended up being parking lot to local convenient store. Harry walks in and avoids any and all eye contact with human beings and the cameras that hang above, which isn't that hard considering it's pretty late at night and the store's probably just about to close. He pats water on his face and blows air in his eyes, being the master at hiding the fact that he was crying by now, walking out and deciding to walk around the store aisles. By the second aisle he gets caught up just staring at the food behind the glass, trying to walk away but thinking, well, he's here anyway. So he reaches in and grabs all the tubs of ice cream he can, cookie kind, fruity kind, mixture kind, kinds he's never heard of kind, all until his arms are full and he thinks he might get frostbite. 

So Harry's probably being a bit cliche, getting ice cream just after a break up in the middle of the night and trying not to look or seem miserable, which he kind of almost really is. He dumps the tubs on the conveyor belt of the only register that's open and gives the cashier a meek, shameful smile in apology and pulls out his wallet, looking away as the cashier begins ringing his items up, quirking his eyebrow in interest.

"Having an ice cream party?" He muses, ringing up tub after tub.  

Harry gives a faint smile. "Party of one." 

The cashier cocks his eyebrow, eye on the tub he's ringing up. "And is this much anticipated, exclusive party open to invitation?" Harry looks up at the man with curiosity. He's young and cute and really quite fit actually. And who knows this guy might be a rapist or something but hey, Harry's lonely. 

"Depends on who the non-invitee is." Harry says vaguely, "I'll tell you what, though, if he happens to be that cute grocer down at the market who I heard was planning on bringing wine, odds are Mr. Party Crasher will be gladly welcomed." And yeah okay Harry kinda really wants to get drunk too and no one's flirted with him in forever that, well how could he just let this one go?

"Actually, I heard he's not only anticipated to bring wine, but dark chocolate and cherries as well. That's just what I've heard." The cashier says, ringing up the last tub and putting it in Harry's bag. Harry smiles, gathering his bags and paying the boy. 

"Well, if you happen to hear anything else, let him know I'll be at my car scarfing down my first tub of 'cream, yeah?"

The cashier smiles and blushes lightly, mumbling a small "Sure thing" before Harry makes his way out. 


Harry didn't have to wait too long before the cashier - Evan - made his way out, closing the store and waving at Harry who was already half way through his first tub of ice cream. Conveniently enough, Evan walks to work everyday so Harry simply drove him over to his place, getting out wine glasses and multiple spoons. 

They both end up piss drunk and laughing on the couch, making a mess of the ice cream they're eating. Harry's greedy with his tub, finding that he quite likes the flavor of pistachio and spoon battles Evan over it when he tries to grab a spoonful. 

"Do you wanna know what," Harry says after they've both calmed their fit of giggles over a rather pathetic joke he'd told, smiling like mad. "I just got a divorce, like, a year ago! Do you have any idea what that means?" To be completely honest Harry doesn't even know what that means.

"You haven't had any in a long time?" Evan suggests bluntly around a spoon of ice cream.

The bark of laughter Harry immediately releases makes Evan smile at his own joke and laugh along with him. They're so drunk it's refreshing. 

"That," Harry gets out, cut off by his own laugh once again, breathing hard as he tries to get the words out, "That is exactly what that means, game show winner." Harry leans over and eats the ice cream off Evan's spoon. It's all innocent really, Harry's not trying to start anything. His ice cream just looked really good. 

"Do you wanna get some now?" Evan asks, spoon still in Harry's mouth. Harry looks up and pulls off slowly, contemplative in the way that only drunk people are contemplative, trying really hard to think it through, but accomplishing nothing as he does. 

Harry tilts his head. "Now?" Evan nods. "You're not, in the slightest bit, afraid that I'm in an emotionally, drunkenly vulnerable state right now?" It's not condescending or anything, Harry's truly curious because he's not even sure if he's any of those things right now.

"Well, do you believe you are?"

Harry shakes his head with the most innocent, wide, contemplative eyes Evan has ever seen. "No, actually I think I'm alright. Here," He says, grabbing Evan's hand and placing it over his heart, wide eyes on his, "Check my heart beat. What do you think?" Harry asks with concern, his words slurring only slightly.

Evan smiles and moves his hand up to the side of Harry's face instead, Harry's hand dropping where it was previously holding onto Evan's. "This just in," He says, petting Harry's disheveled hair back before meeting his eyes, "I think you're perfect."

Harry's heart flutters and his cheeks fall to a crimson shade of red, never in a million years expecting for that to happen. Harry's biting his (entire) bottom lip into his mouth and he's so, fuck. 

Evan leans in and it startles Harry when their lips meet, having not had someone flirt, make a move, and certainly not kiss him in a long time, but Harry melts in to it soon enough, wrapping his arms around Evan's neck as he lays him down, fitting into the cushions perfectly, languid lips moving with the taste of cream and just right. Harry moves to say something and Evan pulls away, looking down at a panting, wide eyed Harry beneath him. 

Harry's swollen lips begin moving and it's probably the most sure thing he's said in a long time.

"I think I wanna." (He's drunk, okay? That was the best he could do and he's a lame flirt anyway so hop off.)

Evan smiles and leans in again. They may not spend forever together, but it sure feels like it. And maybe they're still on earth, but Evan makes it feel like heaven. 


Harry and Evan don't make it, and neither do Louis and flower boy. It was a hard hit for Louis, flower boy leaving solemnly and sadly after their last fight, not really trying to be right just trying to make sure Louis knows that he's still in love with Harry before he goes off and breaks another person's heart with false hope. 

Harry and Evan were good while they lasted, a fun relationship - wild nights and lots of laughter. It was a mutual decision between the two, their break up, both deciding that they should split off and continue on their own paths. Evan back to school and Harry where ever the universe decided to take him next - hopefully somewhere in producing and writing music again. Harry's learned to let go of things, take life for what it is, and Louis' learned to accept and regret the mistakes he made. 

Harry gets married again, not immediately after, but soon enough. He gets his forever desired cats and children. It's a happy thing, or so Louis hears.

Eventually Louis gets married as well, but Harry's always there, nagging at the back of his brain. It's hard when he accepts that this is all his fault, but he accepts it and does for Harry the one last thing he asked of Louis, figures he at least owes him that.

Louis never asks again. 

And finally, finally, Harry realizes, 

Harry didn't lose Louis, Louis lost him.


"I'll never hurt you, I promise."

twinklybinkly: (Default)
 They were both respectively 17 and 19 when they decided that their mutual attraction for each other was past simple teenage horniness. So, instead of quickie sex all the time, they had quickie sex and longie sex all the time - or whatever you want to call it. It doesn't make much difference to them despite the fact that Harry and Louis were both easily transitioned into the honeymoon phase of things behind the shadows of fame - they kept their relationship hidden, of course.

But you see, keeping things hidden wasn't so easy when you had a perfectly horny, whiny 17 year old boy in the palm of your hand just the same as he had an all too compliant 19 year old wrapped around his finger. So, yeah they nearly got caught a few times - from friends, family, co-workers, mates, strangers; I mean you name it and they'll probably tell you yes, they indeed have (almost) been caught by whoever or whatever you may suggest. And it's not like anyone ever really wanted to stick around to tell them "Hey, quit the hanky-panky, 'k?", so they can't really say who they'veactually been caught by.

So, they lived to tell the tales of their many sexual endeavors and create more without a moment's hesitation. And they did - tell them, that is - much to the discontent of their unfortunate pals. (And if you think the aforesaid clarification of telling them is all they did they'd probably laugh at you.) And they - Louis - always liked to start out in a dramatic fashion, and sometimes he and Harry would randomly recount the events of past memories that were just all too good to forget when they were together in their room at night.

And so they lay here again, supposedly watching a movie that was long forgotten about after the first five minutes, taking gentle pleasure in reliving the truly raunchy memories.

"Do you remember that one time we were at one of them meetings and you were so whiny you begged me to fuck you in the loo?"

Harry isn't bashful when he admits with a grin that he in fact does remember that one time and Louis doesn't quite care whether he remembers it or not as he rehashes the memory.


It was a rather decent day until they were forced awake at six in the morning. And, if you asked Louis, he'd tell you the day is always bound to be good until one gets awaken, so Harry wouldn't suggest questioning him any further about what good a couple extra hours of sleep would do if the day turned out disastrous. So don't ask.

The meeting started at seven and went to twelve, lunch break, then back again at three and Louis was doing a pretty good job of mentally murdering each and every person in the room with his glare the entire time. It could literally kill someone if they looked too long, so no one besides Harry dared look any longer than a quick lock-and-avert eye contact entailed.

He cuddled into his neck and rested his hand on his thigh, but that was alright because they're supposed to be best friends and best-friendships sometimes turn into to strong bromances and no one needs to know that they love each other, they're just really good friends who have wildlygood sex too many times a day to count. It's all good.

Harry was persistent even past the shoves Louis gave him to get off his shoulder, and when Louis scooted in Harry secretly wrapped his arms around his waist and enjoyed the feeling that was Louis without enjoying it too much because if Harry was honest with himself he'd be kissing Louis' neck up, down, sideways, and all around in front of all of these people without a care in the world if it weren't for the looming threat of permanent separation in public and private life because really he loves Louis and he doesn't know what he would do if they took him away from him - is it so wrong that he just really wants to kiss him right now and, gay? Who's gay? No one in One Direction is gay oh certainly not.

So Harry cuddles himself back into Lou's neck because it's a little chilly in the board room and Louis' really tiny and warm and Harry just really likes to cuddle him and Louis looks like he needs a cuddle right now and, well, what would that show of Harry if he didn't oblige? Harry would also like to add that he might be a little tiny bit hard in his jeans and maybe really wanting Louis at this time, but, again, it's probably just really early and his body doesn't know what it feels yet other than groggy and cuddly and perhaps a bit woody. Plus, gay? Who's gay?


It's lunch time when the boys are finally granted some space and fresh air from that dreaded meeting room they all hate. When they're all dismissed, Louis' the first one out of the room, scooting out and getting up quite roughly, not paying any mind to Harry who was practically thrown to the floor by the harsh movements. The boys all just stare, but no one else in the room seems to take notice of the chap's weird behavior and it doesn't take long for Harry to dust off and jog after him.

It only takes Harry fifteen minutes to locate a rather bothered looking Louis in the bathroom, running his hands through his hair in a frustrated manner before he turns around and shoves his back against the door.

Harry lets out a surprised yelp - Louis' grip is hard (and, okay, Harry wasn't exactly expecting that).

Louis' eyes are shut in frustration as the forefinger and thumb of his right hand squeeze against the bridge of his nose and the other grips at Harry's bicep. "What the hell is wrong with you, Harry?"

Harry doesn't know what to say.

"Do you realize," he continues, eyes still closed and hands still in place, "How hard it was to act put off by everyone - how hard you made me?Literally?" Harry's a bit breathless now as he imagines angry Louis taking him - right here, right now where anyone can walk in on them and catch the two horny teens going at it. It's always been a sort of kink for Harry, public places. The thrill of knowing they could get caught at any moment just gets him going. Harry tries really hard to focus on Louis without being sexual about it.

"Go on then! Have you got anything to say for yourself?" Louis' grip hasn't let up but he's now looking Harry directly in the eye and Harry doesn't think he can be more turned on as he lets out a moan in response.

"Fuck me, Lou, please. Please, please, please - right here, promise I'll be good for you, promise I will, please." Harry's pleading and babbling and he doesn't know what he'd do with himself if Louis rejected his request, but he might just cry if Louis doesn't do something soon - like, right now.

"Fuck," Louis wasn't expecting this response, but then again he never knows what to expect from Harry, so, really, it shouldn't be as much of a surprise as it is.

"Please Lou, I'll suck you off - you don't even have to touch me! I'll suck you off just how you like, yeah? Please Lou, I need you, please, please, please-"

"Shut up, Harry." Louis mutters under his breath before their lips smash together in a heated kiss - Harry's always had a problem with unashamedly whining for sex and Louis' always had a problem with getting much too hard at that.

"Want me to take you, then? Here in this dirty loo, yeah? Don't even care where we are, do you? Just want my cock up your ass?" Harry nods eagerly and Louis curses under his breath because there are people around and this is a public restroom and fuck, Harry looks amazing all worked up with swollen lips and pleading eyes that look like they'd do just about anything for a good fucking.

"Well, come on then - get in a stall!" Louis finally lets go of Harry and pulls him from the door, pushing him in the direction of the third stall. Harry stumbles forward easily. When they get in the tiny confinement he sits Harry down and locks the stall door just to be safe. When he turns around he sees Harry staring up at him like a hopeful puppy obediently waiting for his owner to give him a treat or at least not scold him for something he's done wrong - and in the moment Louis finds himself wishing that, even if just as friends, they'll always be together. Harry's lips are red and shiny and swollen and he looks so fuckable right now that Louis' not sure how he's made it this long without having his way with him. Why, it's already twelve in the afternoon!

"What do you want, Harry? Want me to take you in this stall?" Harry nods his head silently. "You've got to speak up, babe."

Harry gets harder at that and tries desperately not to let his eyes roll back in a moan as he responds. "Want you to fuck my mouth."

Harry's words are sent straight to Louis' cock and it's his turn to bite back a moan. "Fuck" is all he whispers, his eyes momentarily closing as he tries to calm himself. "You sure?" Harry nods. "Alright babe just - let me know if I'm going too hard or you need to breathe or something, okay?" Harry nods twice as eagerly as he did before and Louis begins removing his joggers until they're lying in a pool around his ankles.

Noticing his hands at his briefs, Harry stops Louis before he can act any further. He clears his throat, "I wanted to take 'em off." Harry clarifies, Louis looking at him curiously before Harry gets on his knees and removes Louis' briefs. Louis can only manage a small nod before he has to bite back another moan, the cool bathroom air giving him chills as it meets his now restraint-free cock.

"Go on," Louis encourages softly as Harry takes it in his hand appreciatively, but cautiously, the other going promptly on Louis' thigh. "Do whatever you'd like."

Harry's eyes brighten at the permission and he begins licking at the head like it's a really good lolly before taking it in, his eyes fluttering shut like it's the best thing in the world, and maybe it is. Louis hisses and throws his head back as Harry takes him in until his cock is promptly as far as he can take it. Harry gags around it before looking up pleadingly through his lashes for Louis to give him more.

Louis meets his eyes lovingly, "Want me to fuck your mouth now, baby?" Harry moans around Louis and he hisses as pleasure shoots through him. "Pull off if you need to, okay? I won't get mad, promise." Harry nods as best as he can before Louis gets a good grip on his hair and both of Harry's hands are on either of Louis' thighs. Louis pulls back slowly before sliding back in equally as slow, craving to feel the warmth of Harry's mouth around him as his eyes close in pleasure.

Sliding in a second time Louis looks down as he feels Harry gagging around him, bringing his other hand to Harry's face to wipe away a stray tear. "You okay, baby?" he asks as he continues thrusting, Harry nods. "Such a good boy for me, aren't you? Such a good boy, good for daddy, huh?" Harry's eyes flutter and a few more tears begin to form. "Open your pretty eyes, baby, want you to see how good you make me feel - make me feel real good, don't you?" Harry feels a knot forming in his own stomach, seeing the strain in Louis' eyes and hearing the pleasure in his voice and he can't help but moan because - yes, he is Louis' good boy and he'd do anything to keep him happy, truly. 

"There we go, that's it darling," Louis compliments, stroking his free thumb across Harry's cheek. "Can daddy go faster, baby?" Harry nods and Louis' eyes flutter shut as his thrusts become snappy and quick against Harry's mouth.

"Fuck, Harry." Louis curses, pulling harder on Harry's hair as fucks harder against his mouth. Harry moans outrageously loud and Louis opens his eyes. "Like it when I pull your hair, sugar?" Louis' words are coming out in pants against his breath as he watches a pleasure-stricken Harry nod eagerly against his thrusts, his eyes wet and pleading.

Louis' thrusts are coming quicker now as he yanks at Harry's hair, panting things like "Cockslut for me, aren't you?" and "Such a good boy" that just push Harry further and further towards his own orgasm until he's not sure he can take it anymore and he becomes a crying, blabbering mess and ruins his trousers during one big moan that nearly sends Louis over the edge, too.

Louis pulls out, though, just before he can't take it anymore. He pulls Harry up by the shoulders and he's crying mess, apologizing with embarrassed eyes that refuse to meet Louis' as he pleads: truly, he's sorry for cumming and he hadn't meant to, he promises! And Harry just goes on and on until he's blabbering about any random thing that comes to mind, but Louis doesn't mind that he came as he wipes his tears and soothes Harry through a reassuring kiss, telling him that it's alright and he still loves him and blah.

"Think you can take more, baby?" Louis asks, pulling away from the kiss and messing with Harry's sex-hair, watching as Harry's eyes half light up and half shrink in fear at the idea because he really, really wants to but he's not sure he can.

Harry replies with a small, but sure "Yes" anyway, his voice cracking against the word.

Louis kisses at Harry's blotchy, tear stained face as he unbuttons his trousers and slides them down his legs along with his boxers before he walks him to the back wall of the grimy stall, "So pretty, Harry, so pretty for me, aren't you? So willing, so eager - cumming in your trousers like that, bet you just love being used, don't you?" Harry whimpers because he knows it's true, he does love it, but he loves Louis more and he really needs him right now, so bad.

"You gonna get my fingers wet for me so I can open you up? C'mon sweetheart, open up that pretty mouth for me, yeah?" Harry takes his fingers in willingly and swirls his tongue around them, moaning despite his sore throat as Louis lifts his leg onto the edge of the toilet to get a better angle.

Pulling his fingers from Harry's mouth, Louis doesn't waste any time shoving two of them in, becoming increasingly impatient with his hard cock just on the brink of letting go. Louis kisses Harry's face as he mewls a small whimper and his eyes fall shut, whispering a small "It's okay baby, it's okay, think you can come again for daddy, yeah?"

Harry bites his lip and nods, his eyes still shut tight as he feels his own cock hardening again.

Louis squeezes in a third finger before pushing them to the hilt - or the last knuckle - until he hits Harry's prostate which he becomes increasingly aware of only because Harry's eyes fly open and he lets out a breath as if he's just been hit in the gut, only this feels better beyond words.

"Think you can take me, baby? Think you're ready?" Harry nods and this time he's completely certain because man does he need Louis right now and he doesn't know how he'll last without cumming again or at least having Louis cum in him.

"Please, Louis." Harry shudders out and it's got to be the first thing he's said in a while and Louis can't help but moan at the state of his fucked out voice,. Neither of them can wait any longer as Louis slips himself into Harry's tight hole inch by inch, Harry's leg falling slack on the toilet seat as his body falls limp with the pleasure Louis' giving him.

Louis starts thrusting once he thinks Harry can take it and the bathroom is silent besides the smacking of skin and a string of "Lou, Lou, Lou" falling from Harry's mouth as if without thought, the rest of his body is open to Louis' bidding.

Louis thrusts particularly hard in a random fashion and Harry gasps, his eyes flying open and his body jolting forward as he wraps his arms around Louis' neck, crying into the skin and whispering an "Oh, daddy" through the tears.

Louis would wank to that mental image and audio for a while.

"Your cock hurt, baby? Think you can cum from only my cock this time? Gonna be a good boy for daddy and cum like a girl?"

Harry isn't thinking at all as pleasure takes over all of his senses, the only thing that coming to mind when Louis speaks, finally hitting his prostate, being a broken "Daddy!" and Louis might've came right then if it weren't for the door creaking open.

Quickly, Louis shoves Harry completely against the wall and covers his mouth with his free hand as his other grips at Harry's bum cheek to keep him from falling or moving. Harry stares at him with wide eyes, clearly lost as to why Louis quit snapping his hips up to meet his, rather letting Harry's arse sit on his dick, beginning to swivel his hips instead. Louis' eyes are serious, giving a warning that meant 'Stay quiet', but Harry's eyes have fluttered shut as he muffles a moan against Louis' hand, Louis pressing it harder against Harry's mouth.

The man on the other side of the stall proceeds with washing his hands, mumbling a small "Shit" after a faint 'clink' is heard in the sink - presumably from a fallen ring or something of the sort. Louis curses silently because now Harry's licking at his palm and his face is absolutely beautiful; looking up at him with blotchy skin and watery eyes, staring at Louis quite lovingly just before they fall shut and he lets go of everything he can get out for a second time, cumming in small spurts all over Louis' bare thighs and t-shirt.

Louis doesn't know how much longer he held it in while the man outside messed with the sink, but Harry mewls a couple of times and Louis can tell he's completely fucked out. It feels like decades before the man finally leaves and Louis can remove his hand from Harry's mouth and continue the snap of his hips, hard and fast, until Harry screams his name and cums nearly dry for the third time while Louis cums in him. 

Finally summing up the will-power to remove himself from Harry - they'd both fallen limp against each other (more so Louis trying to hold Harry up and catch his breath so they wouldn't topple over) - Louis mumbles sweet nothings into the shell of his ear as he dresses both himself and Harry in hopes of getting out of this grimy sex-smelling loo soon. They still had quite a few more hours of the meeting to go. Harry's staring lovingly at Louis as he pats his face with cold water to get rid of the blotchiness and, eventually, Harry's trousers and his shirt as well . "I'm sorry, Harry." Louis says, and he means it, he truly feels bad. "I'm so sorry, baby, I should have calmed myself down I-"

Harry shushes him with a kiss to the mouth - he finally got control of his actions back, though tiredly - and mumbles "I love you, Lou." His droopy eyes never remove themselves from Louis'. Louis sighs and a hint of a smile shows on his face as he replies with an "I love you too, Harry" before he helps him up and drags him out and into the hall.


"Cried like a baby, you." Louis snorts as he folds his arms behind his head, Harry right next to him on the bed. Harry's quiet, contemplative.

"Louis, what are we doing?" Louis rolls his eyes at Harry's lack of awareness,

"We're living out memories, Harry, you oaf!" He keeps his eyes on the ceiling but manages to hit Harry on the chest with a soft thud before continuing, "Now, do you remember our fist kiss? Because I certainly do."



It's unfortunate to say that Harry and Louis haven't kissed yet. It's not that they haven't almost, because they indeed have almost - many more times than either of them is ready to admit.

Where to begin, well they met in the toilets just about two weeks ago and now they're the best of friends anyone can imagine, ones you'd expect to see after a lifetime of being together. Those friendships of course don't usually end up the way people expect - fallouts happening quite often right around the upper levels of schooling when classes and people are no longer so elementary - and you might say Louis and Harry exceeded everyone's expectations of a friendship finally over just after the small wonder of new beginnings was, but that's a story for a later date.

It's safe to say that both Harry and Louis feel a twinge of annoyance when they think about it - just a twinge. Perhaps it's good that they haven't created the beginnings of a more complicated relationship with the interlocking of their own two lips and tongue; nothing to worry about ruining their friendship. Being just friends was good, only it wasn't. And being best friends was like widening the gates of hell - (definition: seefriendzone) - that neither of them wanted to enter, yet they already had.

It might have been alright had they not nearly kissed many times already. If they weren't constantly almost kissing and almost admitting their petty feelings for each other they would have been fine with all the interruptions as they wouldn 't have been interruptions to anything at all of course because they in fact were not almost about to kiss - only indeed they were.

The first incident was not too long after they'd first met - actually, just the day after. Of course everyone knows the telltale story of poor baby One Direction as the crying little twinks were put into the band they are now - I won't bore you with the sob story. So they were ecstatic, of course, that they'd each been saved from total elimination from the show and kept for the next round. Harry and Louis, I wouldn't say most especially, but, most especially. I guess you could say it wasn't much of an interruption, really, as Louis struggled to carry the just-met 16 year old off stage, but Harry might not ever forgive Niall for it.

Truly, Harry was impressed with Louis' strength (as Harry was a bit heavy since he was going through his 'teenage years', especially when compared to Louis) and he felt his heart swell the second he wrapped his legs around the older boy's torso and let him carry him out. Honestly, Harry could say he fell in love with him right then and there and it wouldn't be much of a lie. They made it out before the rest of the lads - which is a surprise, really, given the situation - and there was so much room around them and so much space to be had yet they couldn't be closer to one another. And as Louis stopped, Harry could feel that he felt it too; the incoherent emotions flooding between the two. His heart was beating fast and swelling all at once and as much as the feeling nearly hurt Harry, he couldn't have wanted the moment any more.

Time stopped and it was only Louis and Harry, thoughts passing through the breaths shared between the two, the stuttering of their hearts in rhythm. Harry leaned in. Their breaths mingled as Harry paused, just inches above Louis' lips, waiting for a hint of objection in Louis' eyes. Their hearts were fluttering. He placed his hand on the underside of Louis' jaw and leant in again, rubbing his thumb against the smooth skin of Louis' cheek, green on blue the entire time.

His eyes flicked to Louis' lips.


"We're in a band!!!!" Niall exclaimed, running through the open space and around Louis and Harry a few times, clearly not paying much attention or perhaps simply oblivious to just how close the two were, lifting his shirt and flashing his bare white chest and stomach just for the hell of it. Harry doesn't know what Louis was going to say, he doesn't know if Louis was about to ask him to stop, he doesn't know if he was just saying his name in assurance that this was indeed about to happen, he just doesn't know, and Harry can't deal with not knowing, not at all.

Louis, seemingly snapped out of a daze, began bouncing about, carrying Harry sideways along his body and trying not to drop him as he hopped around gleefully. Louis carried on as if nothing had just happened - or was possibly about to happen - and Harry put on his winning smile. He was happy, really - hell he'd just been bumped up to the next rounds of the show and he's been physically closer to Louis than ever, that's got to make him happy. He is happy, oh believe him, he's happy, just a bit off put by the situation he was in no more than thirty seconds ago is all. Louis didn't seem at all fazed and, if that's Louis' acting, well that's just one more thing Harry admires about him. And if it isn't, and Louis truly isn't at all bothered by the near happening that's all but eating at Harry's core, well Harry isn't sure if he admires that Louis' emotions are so easily let go of or if he dreads it. Harry hopes for the forth and convinces himself that that's probably what it was, hopefully what it was, yet it still ate at Harry's insides.


The next 'almost happening', as Harry would put it, was not too long after the first. Finally settled into their new room and bunks a few days in, the room was already a mess. Everybody knew it. Honestly, what more can you expect from a room hoarded with five teenage boys? Not much. And that's how it was, not much. You couldn't see the floor and it might do you some good to watch where you step because there may be some dirty things there and, oh, if you see some clover-covered boxers - those are Niall's.

Domestic, of course, Harry contributed to the mess no doubt, but eventually he willed himself to clean it up one night when all the others in the house were going to some big-shot party Harry just wasn't particularly interested in. He wasn't being a stick in the mud - at least he wasn't trying to be - he just didn't particularly fancy a night of watching Louis flirt himself silly with every two-legged creature that captured his attention - dogs included, only they had four legs, which made them all the more a threat. Okay, so maybe Harry was a bit of a jealous person or maybe he just didn't like these very one-sided feeling emotions. But, really, what does a dog have that Harry doesn't and why does Louis seem to lack 100% full attention on Harry all the time?(???)

So Harry decided to stay. Cleaning up the mess didn't really feel like a burden or anything that bugged Harry in the least bit, in fact, if he was honest with himself, he'd say he quite liked performing the domestics. Cleaning, throwing a load in the wash, folding - the whole bit. So he hummed to himself happily, his mind finally off Louis, as he gathered all the clothes in a basket and swung his hips to the music in his head. Eventually humming and swaying turned to singing and dancing and Harry was having a full on dance party as he tossed the clothes into the basket acting like some kind of cocky pro baller. Honestly, who needed a party with beer and lights and music and girls and Louis? Certainly not Harry.

Harry was no where near done, but he was having the time of his life shouting his want for sedation and dancing around like a fool so it's no surprise that he didn't hear the jingling of keys or the creaking open of the room door as Louis entered the room. Harry's back is to him as he dances around idiotically with bundles of clothes in both hands. Louis balls up a pair of boxers off the floor and tosses them at him. Harry turns, startled, and feels a pull in his neck.

"Lou- ah!" He cringes, setting his neck straight again and fully turning his attention towards Louis as he rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks going red. "Hey, Louis."

"Harry." He greets casually.

Harry continues rubbing at the back of his neck and turns his gaze at the pile of clothes he dropped, actively avoiding Louis' eyes. "I, uh, thought you were at the party."

"Thought you were 'resting'." Okay so, yes, Harry's lame excuse for not attending the party was that he was knackered, completely exhausted. What was he supposed to say? That his best friend looks utterly fuckable in that stupid jean jacket of his and he really wouldn't be able to control himself with a few beers in his system, sorry, maybe next time? No.

Louis' arms are crossed expectantly and he raised his eyebrow expectantly when Harry finally meets his gaze. "Right, just thought I'd clean up a bit."

"I can see," Finally walking into the room, Louis saunters over to the basket and pretends to peer in, feigning interest. "You pick all this up right now?" Louis asks, meeting Harry's eyes. He gulps, nodding cautiously. Placing both hands on either end of the basket, Louis picks it up and tips it over, meeting Harry's shocked gaze with a smug smile.

"Hey!" Harry shouts, a smile creeping onto his lips.


"That's not very nice, Mr. Tomlinson."

"Oh, Mr. Tomlinson now am I?" Louis taunts.

Harry walks closer. "Dunno, Lou," He says, looking down at Louis' face as he backs into a wall, "Would you rather be Mr. Tomlinson or Mr.Totelinson?"

They're really close now and Louis' can feel Harry's breath on his lips as he hovers over. "Wha-" He starts, but it's too late. Harry's grabbed Zayn's tote with dirty socks off the dresser to the right and dumped it all over Louis' face. Shocked and a bit confused, Louis claws at the smelly socks still on his face and is met with Harry's cheeky smile all the way across the room.

"Styles," Louis says, looking down at his hands as he drops the socks, as he shaking his head slightly, "You are so going to get it."

Harry darts to the conjoining wall on his right as Louis crouches and tosses handfuls of dirty laundry and other items at Harry, the both of them hopping and jumping around like startled rabbits. After several minutes of frantic hopping about and happy giggling as they tried to avoid the mounds of clothes being thrown at them while lobbing equally same amounts back at each other, Harry's fallen over the laundry basket and Louis' hands are unrelenting; grabbing and throwing, grabbing and throwing as if it's a routine they're accustomed to. Harry's hands are shielding his tilted head and squinted eyes as he laughs and shouts and tries to remember to breathe despite Louis. Just Louis. For a moment all else is forgotten and Harry feels like he's five again and play fighting with his sister in his room like the innocent, happy children they were.

Louis stops for a moment and Harry thinks he's finished, chancing a glance and slowly removing his hands from his line of sight. Louis plops down on Harry's crotch and Harry feels like the air has been knocked out of him. "Ready to give up, Curly?" Louis yawns as Harry tries to steady his breathing, "Honestly, it isn't much of a fight when your opponent won't fight back."

Harry tries his best to seem utterly confused. "Fight? Thought we were wrestling." Harry huffs., pouting as he watches Louis' eyes cloud with confusion, examining the younger boy's face and wondering just what it was that went wrong up in that lopsided head of his during birth. Before he can say anything though, Harry's bit his lip through a smile as he grabs at Louis' hips and flips them over. Harry sighs, unable to contain the satisfied smirk on his face. "Honestly, Louis, it's not much of a fight if you wont even try." He doesn't give Louis much time to process before pressing a fistful of dirty laundry in his face. Removing himself from Louis completely, Harry returns to his previous duties, hardly paying Louis any attention as he mutters a playful, "Thought you had more dignity in you than to not even try fighting what was clearly a losing battle from the start.", simply because he knows Louis hates it when people only pay him half a mind and walk around as if they've never stepped on dirt.

 Louis was seething. "Harry Styles," he demanded, sternly, "You look at me, right now." Louis is standing now, having stomped his foot not so lightly on the ground as he demands the other boy's attention like an angry father.

"Yeah," Harry taunts, reaching over for another dirty sock, his back still prominently facing Louis, "And why would I wanna do that?"

"Why because, Harry," Louis says, more or less through his gritted teeth. He pauses before continuing. "I'm gorgeous, obviously." And Louis sounds astoundingly calm and cocky - his usual attitude. Now Harry had to take a look see at that just to believe that Louis had collected himself as fast he seemingly had. It all happens rather suddenly, though some parts just faded to black. First, Harry, with a dirty laundry basket in his hand, turns his head - as if in slow motion - to look at a seemingly calm Louis across the room from him, only, he wasn't across the room from him anymore. Harry only has the privilege of a mere glance at the messy, perfect fringe of the devil of his fantasies before he feels himself hurled back with quite a lot of might. And that's it before it all goes black, the very next thing he opens his eyes to being a strikingly handsome looking Louis, straddling his hips on the bed that was closest to them at the moment of impact. Harry couldn't be bothered to, well, be bothered by the boy on top of his awkwardly angled, let alone figure out whose bed it is they're experiencing this predicament in. Harry hopes he won't get hard, but he can already feel it coming.

For a moment, Louis' eyes and face are still brandishing his previous emotions - angry yet not, annoyed yet somehow admiring, mischievous and playful - and then, as quick as a match is struck, Louis' demeanor changes. His eyes are no longer mischievous, but soft and looking, and his face is no longer set in an angrily annoyed fashion, but rather a soft, gentle one. At the rate his heart is beating in those few seconds of demeanor-changing silence, Harry's sure he'd have broken all heart monitors by now. And, when Louis' eyes flick down to Harry's lips before meeting his eyes once again, licking his own lips, Harry's heart stops all together. Their gaze is strong, locked promptly on each other's eyes - Harry's showing both uncertainty (on Louis' part) and wary desire whereas Louis' showed only a light contemplativeness, almost passively there where his main thoughts were resting with the beauty of this moment with Harry, the beauty of Harry himself. Louis begins to lean in.

Harry can feel the butterflies in his chest as his heart starts to swell with hope and lust, his eyes frantically flicking back and forth between both of Louis'. And when Louis' lips are just a breath away, Harry fee;s his eyes fluttering shut against the moment, laying there desperately waiting for Louis' lips to meet his own. Harry knows this is probably a moment he should keep his eyes open for, just to have some visual to remember it by, but then everything always seemed so much more passionately intimate in the dark. Harry's lost in the moment - and then the moment takes too long. The fluttering in his chest has changed to an anxious pulling at his heart and his stomach is churning so hard it's as if there are butterflies there too, desperately trying to get out. So desperately, in fact, it feels as if his stomach is almost vibrating. And after a second of confusion, Harry realizes his stomach is vibrating, only - wait, no it's not - it's something on his stomach. Harry opens his eyes and finds that Louis' just as startled and put off by the situation as he is - even more so when he removes himself from Harry hastily, as if realizing that what he was doing is utterlywrong. Harry's heart drops and he almost doesn't answer his phone, but soon realizes not answering it would simply make things more awkward and Harry's not entirely sure he's ready to hear whatever Louis' next words will be. He picks it up just before the last ring.

"Hello?" Harry sits up with his head in his hand, not wanting to look at Louis with the signs of his brokenhearted state etched all over his face.

"Harry?" It's Zayn.

"Hope so," Harry would normally say, but this time he only replies with a small "Yeah" before Zayn goes on.

"'s Louis there? With you, I mean. I've been waiting outside for a good ten minutes, said he only went in to get his wallet, not entirely sure it takes this long for a quick grab-and-go."

Harry clears his throat. "Louis? Oh, yeah, he - he'll be right there. Just found it, actually. Yeah, alright. See ya." Harry responds, Zayn asking that Harry tell Louis to hurry his slow arse up before ending the call. Louis' back is facing Harry when he looks up.

"I- uh, that was Zayn. Said he's waiting for you outside - doesn't wanna miss to much of the, uh, party, I guess." Harry's standing up now, his hands shoved deep into his pockets as he expertly looks at every square inch of the room except the few that hold Louis.

"Right." Louis agrees, grabbing something - presumably his wallet - off the top of the dresser before heading out of the room. Harry only steps one foot out of the room door before he's watching Louis close the front one, pausing as his lips part as if to say something only before he gives a quick, curt nod and shuts the door completely.


After that, Harry and Louis are never quite the same again, like ever. The week or two that follow pass without much conversation between the two, only simple words that Harry tries not to clutch at. Louis may make a brief, funny comment at which Harry will, of course, laugh at and Louis' eyes will go squinty with delight, but it's never more than that, never more than a 3-5 minute, close ended conversation had between the two. Harry regrets that. He sometimes wishes things could go back to how they were before or, even better than that, he wishes things could change so their relationship would fall out differently. Harry desperately wishes he could go back in time and erase these stupid, romantic feelings he has for Louis and change them into something more like a strong, brotherly bond rather than these unrequited strands of hope.

So it's two weeks later and One Direction have officially made it far past what they ever thought they would and they've all got time to themselves to spend with each other in Harry's family's bungalow. Harry's psyched, he thinks, but then maybe he's not.

It doesn't end up as terribly as Harry first fears it will. Soon everyone's settled into beds and rooms before they head out back in the dark of night, not quite realizing that time had slipped under their noses and went out the front door for a good rest while they settled in. They all get comfy and cozy under jumpers and blankets around a small fire in the pit as they sit around embracing one another as the best friends they've all become, the brotherhood they all share with each other. Harry's no longer cold as he downs his third beer in fifteen minutes - so he's a bit drunk. Mind you Harry's trying desperately not think about or feel his aching heart as the boy who yanks at the strings of it so easily is sitting just across the pit from him. Harry's having a great time, actually, or at least he would say now that he's on his fourth beer. But really, he loves these boys - though some to a different degree than others - and he's honestly having the best time he's had in a while. He thinks they could all go on being friends even if this whole boy band thing doesn't work out, he's sure of it. So what's a few beers? Fun is what.

They're all laughing and singing, talking about hopes for their futures, jokingly dreaming out loud what they're privately hoping for on the inside. Harry's surprised he hasn't said anything suggestive about the state of his emotions as he's all laughs and smiles, because, really, how can he not? Harry hasn't got time to worry about petty unrequited feelings. Who does? He could make time for it if he really wanted to, sure, but why would he? Harry can't remember what he's thinking about as he listens to Louis sing. Would it be a shame for Harry to say that he really wants to dance with Louis right now? Maybe kiss him? Before Harry knows what he's doing he's already stumbled his way into the family room, gripping the wall for balance as he makes his way to the bedroom. When Harry arrives he's only looking for one thing - his iPod. Harry's thrown himself onto the ground with a thump and a dull ache in his knees before he begins rummaging through his rucksack, throwing nonsense items this way and that.

Louis' at the doorway now and it isn't the first time he's stumbled upon an oblivious Harry. Just as Louis' about to say something Harry jumps up and turns around before stumbling his way towards the door, his eyes glued on the device in his hand as he scrolls for the perfect song. When he bumps into Louis his thumb taps the screen as he stumbles back trying not to drop both himself and the iPod. When Harry looks up and sees a slightly shocked, slightly amused Louis standing in front of him he almost doubles over in giddiness.

"Louis!" He shouts, throwing himself onto Louis in a bear hug and dropping the iPod as Louis stumbles back trying to right himself.

Louis chuckles to himself. "Hey, Haz." Harry's heart flutters overly much at the nickname Louis gave him sometime two weeks ago - he'd only used it once. "Everyone out there thought you came in to upchuck. Thought I should check on you, just in case." Harry lets go of Louis, pulling away slowly with a sheepish grin on his face. Louis cocks an eyebrow, still holding onto the younger boy's hands to ensure he doesn't stumble over. "What are you up to, Harry?"

"It's Haz." Harry corrects, his expression furrowed.

Louis rolls his eyes, scoffing. "Fine then, what are you up to, Haz?" Harry smiles at the use of his nickname and this time it's not hidden.

"This is my favorite song, Lou." Harry bites his lip, pulling Louis a few more steps into the room as he backs up. Louis gives Harry a curious look before the words process in his brain and he strains to hear the shallow sound of music coming from the fallen iPod. Louis instantly recognizes the song and smiles wonderingly at Harry.

"Dynamite, Harry?" Harry grins.

"Of course, Louis."

"I'm guessing you won't be needing these, then?" Louis chuckles, lifting his palm up to show Harry the bunched up bags in his hands.

Harry snatches the bags from his hand and tosses them over his shoulder before returning his grip lightly to Louis' hands. "Never. Now dance with me, Louis."

Louis cocks an eyebrow and Harry wiggles his back. "I don't know, Harry."

"Hey Louis, are you wearing all your favorite brands?" Harry slurs giddily. He continues before Louis can reply. "Because I'm going to need some space for both my hands, yeno? Big palms." Harry says, raising his hand in front of Louis to show him as his other slides to Louis' waist. Louis hits his hand against Harry's and he's truly stunned for a moment as his palm connects with his face. It's not before he's a laughing mess, swinging Louis along with him all over the room as he registers what's just happened. They're both laughing and it's as if the distant, shallow music from the fallen iPod is now coming from all sides of the room and it's in their ears, sinking into the veins of their bodies and in the hot blood streaming through them both. It's only Louis and Harry and the rest of the world has disappeared, just Harry and Louis. While Louis only had a few beers to drink they've both remarkably let loose all control they had on their bodies as they jump around and admire the smiles on one another's faces.

It's only near the end of the next song, Replay, that Harry realizes the song has changed, but it doesn't faze Harry one bit. Looking down at Louis whose eyes are closed as he takes in the music, Harry grabs at his hips before singing along with the music just as Louis' eyes open, staring intently into the blue of them. "I could be your melody, a girl that could write you a symphony, the one that can fill your fantasies, so come baby girl let's sing with me."

The world is spinning around them and all Harry can see is Louis as he waits for him to sing the words back to him, but Harry doesn't lose hope when he doesn't, instead continues on with the song as Iyaz sings "Nanana" in a repeated chorus, jumping around and still grinning largely as Louis stares at him looking shell-shocked. Harry stops and frowns worryingly.

"Why aren't you singing along? Or dancing anymore?" Harry's hands are still placed on Louis' hips, only now they're fitting to let go, but Harry grips tightly onto Louis' shirt to keep them from doing that. Harry's heart sinks and he's utterly confused. He let's go of Louis, his hands dropping at his sides, his shoulders hanging. Harry steps back and Louis reaches out.

"Harry-" But it's too late, Harry's already stepped on his bag and is falling over. Louis reaches him when his head hits the side of the bed frame and Harry sits up, laughing as he holds his injury.

Louis drags him up, muttering something that sounds like it's laced with too much worry and seriousness for Harry's drunken, confused brain to care about. Louis lays him down on his bed, a pillow propped beneath his head before he rushes out of the room. Harry is only confused as he watches with blurred vision, calling out Louis' name with a slurred tongue until he comes back. Louis rushes back in with and ice pack that he props on Harry's head, telling him to hold it there as he sets off to move all of the boys scattered bags to a corner of the room. Harry shouts his name.

"Yes, Harry?" Louis asks, crouching to eyelevel as his pushes back Harry's fringe and placing the discarded bag of ice back on Harry's bump.

"Lay down with me."


"Please?" There's a glint of true desperation in his eyes that guilts Louis into climbing into the space behind Harry.

"Only if you keep that bag on your head." Harry nods and grips the pack on his head, waiting for Louis to climb in with him. When he does, Harry cuddles himself back into the spoon of Louis' body, resting in the comfortable silence between them with a faint smile still on his face. Only Harry doesn't realize how uncomfortable the silence actually is.

After a little while Louis speaks up. "Does it feel any better, Haz?" Harry nods and Louis holds onto the bag, sliding it away from Harry's bump to assess what's left of the damage. Harry's fingers stretch to touch Louis'. Louis sets the bag back. "You can let the bag go now, if you want." Louis allows, and as soon as the words leave his lips Harry's dropped the bag and turned into Louis' side, the bag making a wet thump as it hits the ground by Harry's aggressive movements.

"Hi Louis." Harry whispers into his neck, his eyes flutter up Louis' but seeing only the underside of his jaw.

"Hey Harry." Louis says softly, the tension in his body still very much present, but loosening lightly as he pets at Harry's hair softly.

"Hey, Louis?" Harry breathes the words softly on the skin his neck.

"Yeah?" Louis shudders out in a voice-cracking whisper.

"I really like you, Louis." Louis' body tenses. Harry doesn't notice, nor does he realize the magnitude of what he's just said - he didn't even mean to say it. The words slipped out like water and Harry couldn't be thirstier. He carries on as if pronouncing the sky as blue or the sun is out or perhaps that the Earth is round, kinda like Louis' butt. And now his fingers are tracing random patterns along the fabric of Louis t-shirt in a dazed, school-girly way and he just can't help himself. "You like me too, don't you Louis?" Louis doesn't answer for a while.


"It's okay if you're not ready to say it. I just like being mouthy I guess. Thought you should know, that maybe you'd like to know." Harry's fingers begin tracing lines up to the collar of Louis shirt and playing with the loose wrinkles of it. "I thought you might not be ready to say anything yet, and that's okay. I like you the same either way, really." Harry looks up at Louis' face and sees confusion and perhaps something that's being held back. Harry frowns.

"Oh, come on Louis, don't be so down. I'm right here you silly goose!" Harry giggles drunkenly at himself before staring on, seeing no change of emotion as Louis' eyes flick to his. He heaves an exasperated sigh before clambering over on top of Louis and leaning down to plant wet kisses along his neck.

"Stop. Being. A. Big. Poop. Head. You. Lame-o." Harry chants between kisses, sounding like an actual five year old. Louis' hands reach up to Harry's shoulders.

"Harry- Harry, you need to stop." Louis says sternly but softly enough as he pushes at Harry's shoulders. Harry doesn't let up, though, and grips onto Louis' shoulders to keep himself from being moved, giggling between kisses as he tells Louis in a playful voice that he "Better stop before [he] does something that [Louis] will really regret, trust [him]'. And now Harry's kisses aren't only being placed on Louis' neck but along his jaw and cheeks as well, just next to his eyes and on his forehead and it's like Harry can't get enough. Louis' pushing has become rougher and more recognizable as Harry pesters on with the sweet kisses.

"Harry, STOP." Louis finally pushes Harry off of his waist, sitting up and wiping his face off. Harry can feel his heart piecing at the rejection.


"No, Harry. Okay? Just- just quit it, alright? You're drunk." And Harry can't think of a more beautiful lie he wishes he could believe - there's nothing like the blistering kiss of rejection to sober one up. The one that plants itself not on the cheek, not on the nose, not even physically anywhere on the body - not quite up for that kind of consensual commitment -  but is rather like a punch of reality to the heart, the pulling and snapping of hopeful heart strings cut by the sharp blade of reality, leaving no trace of its presence except the pain of its aftermath. Harry wishes he was drunk, wishes he could believe that he'd fall asleep and never remember this night, but he knows that's no longer possible. Tears begin damming at the lids of his eyes and he feels nauseous as he stares into Louis' sorrowful ones. 

Eyes widening and tears falling, Harry turns around quickly, jumping off the bed and grabbing the bunched up puke bags just in time for him to catch every drop of it. He's crouched on the floor, vomiting in a bag in front of the boy he's fallen so hard for that rejected him no less than a minute ago. Harry's not sure how the night can get much worse until he feels Louis rubbing his back beside him, bunching up the bag and helping Harry up to the bed before removing his soiled shirt and joggers leaving him weak and slumped on the edge of the bed, tired and embracing the hurt of his heart. Harry no longer has any shame as Louis lays him down and tucks him in like a child, removing his socks and tossing them on the ground beside his bed. Louis opens up a few bags for Harry, looking at the vacancy and hurt in his eyes as he caresses his cheek softly. Harry wipes his mouth and eyes with the back of his hand - luckily there really wasn't much to wipe off of his lips - and turns away from Louis, sniffling softly as tears well up in his eyes. Louis sighs resignedly before climbing into the bed behind him, cuddling his body softly and running his hand up and down his arm for support, though he says nothing. He's not sure there's anything he can say. Louis reaches behind him and places a bag in front of Harry, hoping he won't have to use it, but leaving it there just in case. Harry sniffles.

"Remember how I told you I'd never need these?" Harry said, talking of the bags. Louis' hand stills as he listens intently. Harry lets out a pathetic, one breath laugh. "I lied to you. Guess that means I don't like you as much as I thought I did - but that's good, isn't it? You're happy?" Louis feels a pull at his heart and tries to correct Harry, make him feel better about the situation at present, but Harry blocks him out and Louis' voice becomes white noise to his broken heart as his eyes flutter shut, hearing the music playing distantly in the background.

Harry doesn't remember falling asleep, but he remembers hearing the song as it played out brokenly - or maybe he simply heard it brokenly - thinking it only fitting that the song to have come on shuffle after his embarrassing sob fest was Break Your Heart by Taio Cruz. Harry silently weeps to the god that seems to be mocking him and his mind is blank after that, not a thought to be had and it's almost as if the world has gone empty of color and sound and happiness. Harry doesn't remember falling asleep, but he knows he did so with the last of his tears and Louis affiliated hopes welling up in his eyes, never quite spilling over. 


Harry wakes up cold and alone the next day with a more than uncomfortable headache pounding at his temples. Still, Harry gets up and pulls on sweats and a jumper before he makes his way out of the room after noticing that his vomit bags have been picked up and taken out. Harry walks into the family room fully expecting to see the boys hanging out or goofing about, but instead finds a softly humming telly on with no one to watch it. Frowning, Harry makes his way into the kitchen only to find a note stuck to the fridge scrawled messily - and unmistakably - in Liam's hand writing.

We've gone out to buy some eggs

and stuff and didn't want to wake

yous so we'll be back but I wouldn't

count on anytime soon, Niall brought

a ten-man family's worth of money.

There's enough soup in the micro

for two. Get some rest!! See you later


Harry crumples the note and tosses it before finding said soup in the microwave. Harry can't tell what kind of soup it is, but he's kind of hungry right now and could definitely go for two person's worth of soup, so he does just that. The soup is still hot as Harry settles himself onto the couch to watch whatever good thing pops up on the channel guide and he thanks the lord he doesn't spill it on himself when Louis walks in. Forget embarrassment, that soup was hot. Harry finds that swallowing soup just after you've choked on it and nearly spit it out is quite the challenge, but he gets through it anyway before clearing his throat and speaking painfully at the boy staring curiously at him with his cute tired morning face and his squinty tired eyes.

"Thought you were out grocery shopping." Harry's heart is racing and, truth be told, Harry kind of prayed to whichever god is up there that he'd never have to see this boy again, but, revelation, of course he wanted to see this boy again, everyday of his life if he could.

"Is that where the boys went, then? I was wondering why it was so quiet." Louis rasps out in his heavenly morning voice and, honestly, Harry woke up with this morning wood, it's not the cause of Louis. "'Cause you know, Niall and stuff." Louis adds after Harry stares at him quietly. Harry blushes and silently curses himself for zoning out into Louis' beautiful voice before cracking an awkward smile and mumbling a small "Yeah."

Louis turns his gaze and rubs his neck as he does in most uncomfortable situations. "I'm just gonna go make some breakfast then." He hustles out of the room and into the kitchen before Harry can say anything and soon enough the curly haired boy's stumbling over tangled blankets trying to make his way to Louis as if this was the most important information of either of their lives. Harry finally makes it, his headache pounding worse than ever and looking like a complete mess, but he makes it.

"Louis, I uh, I didn't know you were here so I just heated the whole thing, but Liam said that this soup was enough for two people and, um, well." Harry clears his throat and averts his gaze a few times as Louis stares at him interestingly. When Harry doesn't say anything Louis speaks up.

"Should I get a spoon?" Harry nods very enthusiastically before cursing his headache again when Louis turns his attention to the silverware drawer.

Soon enough they're both settled into the couch watching some weird sitcom and sharing the bowl of soup. Harry's still on guard and vulnerable, but he's not as tense as he thought he would be as he laughs at Louis' stupid jokes. Everything is going good and while Harry may still have feelings for Louis he's willing to push them out of his mind just to keep him as a friend, he thinks it may just work.

They rest in the comfortable silence that has sunken between them, watching the rather melodramatic show that's on the telly as they recoup from the laugh fest they've just endured - Harry laughing at Louis' lame jokes and Louis at the pleasure he feels seeing Harry happy because of him instead of sad. A condom ad comes on just as they both regain their breath and Harry tenses. It's quite embarrassing, he thinks, noticing Louis' nonchalance as he changes the channel.

Harry feels awkward in the silence that follows and privately thanks heaven when Louis finally speaks up. "Hey, Harry?" Louis is very casual about it, keeping his eyes on the telly even when Harry's attention snaps to him. Harry's alert posture shrinks a little, seemingly shameful of his attentiveness where Louis' nonchalance is obviously what this situation calls for. Harry clears his throat before sinking back into the cushions of the couch and resting his eyes on the screen.


"Who do you wank to?" Harry chokes, literally chokes, as he tries to calm himself at the question. When Louis turns his curious gaze from the screen to Harry he's met with Harry's incredulously confused expression.

"I- what?"

Louis sighs exasperatedly and rolls his eyes, waving the remote around as he explains to Harry. "You know, like, who do you think of when you wank? It's a simple question really."

Harry gulps. "Uh, I don't usually-"

"Harry, do you think of me when you wank?" If the cat hadn't caught Harry's tongue he'd tell the truth because in all honesty he really doesn't think of Louis when he wanks. Or, I mean, at least he doesn't try to.

"Harry?" Louis asks and it's as if it's some kind of question on its own.

"Mhm?" Harry hums, wide-eyed and dry-mouthed as he prays that he's having a nightmare or maybe just a really hot wet dream he'll wake up ashamed about really soon.

That's not what happens.

"You and me," Louis says, making his way to Harry on the other end of the couch. He continues once he's placed himself firmly onto a stunned Harry's lap. Harry keeps his hands to himself. "We've nearly kissed, Harry. Going on - what? Two, three times?" Louis ignores the tenseness in Harry as he straddles him and plays with the collar of his jumper, keeping his eyes off Harry's for casualness, though he can feel Harry's intently on him.

"Th-three." Harry says, tense still.

Louis looks up at the sound of Harry's voice and his eyes turn soft. "Do you remember last night, Harry?" Louis ignores it when he feels Harry cringe under him. "We almost kissed, you know."

"That's not how I remember it." Harry says a little vulnerably, if not begrudgingly, as he averts his gaze.

Louis rubs softly at Harry's jaw before speaking, disregarding his last comment."Kiss me, Harry." He says. Harry's gaze snaps back onto Louis'. He's no longer trying to be seductive. "Kiss me now, Harry. If you really want to, kiss me." Louis pleads softly as his fingers still on Harry, his eyes staring softly into Harry's lovely, wide green ones.


"I won't stop you this time." Louis cuts him off, staring into the hopeful, guarded green depth of Harry's eyes. "Promise." He whispers. Harry sighs with enough hope in his eyes to make Louis believe that he's going to do it, so he speaks up in a low whisper. "Now kiss me you fool."

If Harry's learned anything from past 'incidents' it's that the space before a first or almost kiss is much too long. Thoughts float, revelations occur, and all hell breaks loose when rejection decides to step in. Harry, the expert at these things, would recommend giving it some time, though. Enough time before to give the other person a chance to really realize whether they do or do not want this, but not long enough for them to think that you don't, and certainly not enough time to rethink feelings they were so sure of before. Harry would only recommend this because nothing is worse than having your hope catered to only to have it torn down by aftershocks and revelations of the same caterer.

So Harry waits. He stares into Louis' eyes looking for any sign of second thoughts or any insincerity within the pretty blue. When he doesn't find any of that, but rather finds gentleness, sincerity, and fragile, vulnerable hope in his eyes, Harry decides to dive in. Not too fast, but quick enough to get the job done while still holding the suspense factor of the lead up to a proper kiss. Harry looks up when he's only one lip's space from planting his on Louis' and is met with Louis' curious eyes, waiting for Harry's next move. Harry can feel his heart pulling. Does he really want this? What if he's dreaming? What if it's all a part of some cruel joke Louis' playing on him? How could Louis suddenly decide he wants this after so many rejections?

Harry's always been the master at not thinking. He squeezes his eyes tight and goes in, his lips planted firmly on Louis' with a needy, nervous force that has the butterflies exploding from his heart. It's only the touch of lips and the catch of shaky breaths but it's everything Harry dreamed of and more. He leans into the kiss enough that he's pulled himself from his resting spot deep in the couch cushions and Louis' leaning back, gripping onto Harry's jumper. Harry's hands go to Louis' hips and they're both sitting up properly now, Harry's head leaning back as he reaches for Louis' lips that are ducked just enough to reach his. Harry's gripping onto Louis as if he's not ready to let go of this dream of reality, not quite trusting it's actually happening, but willing to hold onto it forever just to believe it is. Louis' hands are everywhere and no where all at once. His grip loosens and he's feeling at the expanse of Harry's chest and stomach feverishly before he trails them up to his hair, playing with his curls before gripping them, properly disheveling his hair as if he can't ever get enough of this, of Harry. 

Louis' the one to pull away first - after much effort - breathless and flushed, staring into Harry's eyes with a new found lust.

"Been waiting to do that." Harry says, biting his lip through a grin. Louis doesn't miss the twinkle in his eye as he says it.

"I can tell." Louis laughs. Harry's still holding onto his hips and looking up into his eyes with a pleading lust Louis just can't ignore.

"I wanna kiss you, Lou."

"You just did, you oaf." Louis jokes, but he knows what Harry's actually saying.

"I mean again, Louis." Louis' heart flutters at the openness of Harry. He smiles sheepishly before correcting it into a superior quirk with the cock of an eyebrow.

"If you must, Styles. Whatever you do just don't make it fast." Harry plays along with Louis' cocky tone of voice, grinning widely before responding with the best compliant business face he can come up with.

"Why of course, Mr. Tomlinson. Whatever you say." Harry finishes the sentence off with the biggest, happiest grin Louis' ever seen and he has less than a millisecond to gather himself for Harry's impending follow-up kiss. Harry's kissing Louis through a smile and this time it's not just lips and breath but it's all teeth, tongue, and happiness as the two grasp each other like the fate of the world depends on it. Who's to say the fate of theirs doesn't? Louis' hands are moving all over Harry again and this time Harry can't keep his hands from moving up the stretch of Louis' back and under his shirt before he turns them both over and lays him on the couch, careful to keep their lips in rhythm. He pulls away once he has Louis laying properly.

"Wanted to be closer to you." Harry pants through swollen lips. Louis nods hastily before grabbing at the back of Harry's neck and pulling him back in for another kiss, moaning into it when their lips meet again, his grip loosening in Harry's hair. Harry's only begun licking into Louis' mouth when Louis pulls away again. They're both panting heavily through swollen lips and flushed faces, Louis looking at Harry's mess fringe as he tries to fix it. Louis meets his eyes before speaking.

"How far do you want to go, Harry?"

It only takes Harry a second to decide, his gaze flickering between Louis' eyes. "Heaven and back, Lou."

Louis feels his heart flutter in his chest at Harry's words. "Then take us there, Haz." Harry leans back in and licks into his mouth once more, grabbing at Louis' shirt and feeling the heat of his skin underneath his clothes as Louis' hands feel under Harry's shirt. They rustle around a bit more before Louis gets to removing Harry's shirt, Harry pecking Louis lips after they part before speaking again.

"I've never done this, Lou. Never - only with a girl before, I don't know what to do." Harry's eyes are concerned as they stares into Louis' loving ones.

Louis pulls him down and pecks his lips before responding, keeping both hands on the sides of his face. "It's just like a girl." Louis says reassuringly.

"Just like a girl?"

"Just like a girl, babe." Harry smiles wonderingly at Louis before kissing him again, though this time more softly and passionately than the times before.

"Harry," Louis pants between kisses, "Harry, do you have, um-" Harry pecks his lips again before pulling away completely.

"Hang on." Harry turns away and reaches the other end of the couch, sticking his hand between the couch cushions. When he turns back, Louis' sitting up on his elbows looking at Harry curiously with a small smile on his face. Harry looks at the pack in his hand with a sheepish smile, blushing lightly. "If there's anything my father taught me, though perhaps more as a precaution than with consent, it's that I should always be prepared. It never happened, but I always kept things hidden here just in case - I guess now's the time, huh?"

Louis bites his lip and nods. Harry looks up and smiles before kissing him again. "Now let's get this shirt off you, yeah?" Soon enough Louis' only down to his boxers and Harry's sweats are hanging loose on his hips as Louis toes at them during their kiss. Harry pulls away onto his knees and unfolds the waistband trying to get them off until Louis stops him.

"Harry, wait. I wanna do something." Harry looks up suddenly, his hands stilling at his waistband. Louis sits up and reaches for them, lowering his hands from his waist and placing his own on Harry's chest, pushing him down slowly until he's laying down. He pecks Harry's lips before kissing down the length of his neck.

"Louis?" Harry tries to say evenly through a gasp.

"Yeah?" Louis' in the middle of kissing Harry under the cut of his jaw when he feels Harry gasping desperately as he thrusts his hips up to Louis', straddling over him. Louis laughs against Harry's neck. "Alright, hang on you horn." He plants a few more kisses down the column of Harry's neck before trailing them down his chest.

He kisses at Harry's hipbones before pulling his sweats down. "Has anyone ever done this for you, Harry?"

"Only once." His hands are running through Louis' hair desperately as he kisses down his thighs. When Louis makes his way back up and kisses beside the outline of his boner Harry gasps. "It wasn't that good." He moans.

Louis laughs in response. "You're lying. It was great, wasn't it?" He kisses at the fabric on the head of his boner teasingly, looking up at Harry through his lashes, eliciting a gasp from him. "Tell me it was great, Harry."

Harry's grip on Louis' hair tightens at his words. "It was great, Louis. Mngh, it was really, really great, Louis." His eyes are squeezed shut as Louis licks at the head of his dick, innocent eyes on his. "Louis, please." He whispers brokenly, his grip tight in Louis' hair.

Louis finally decides to end Harry's torture and kisses at his right hipbone as he pulls his pants down. He lowers his lips and kisses dryly at the head before taking it between his lips, basking in the sounds of pleasure Harry releases. "Look at me, Harry." He says, pulling off Harry just long enough to have him open his eyes. Louis nearly moans when his eyes meet Harry's desperate ones, and he actually does when he takes the head back in his mouth and tastes the precum leaking from it. He takes all of Harry in and rubs him a few times before pulling away with a pop.

"Now, I don't mean to cut this short," He says, sitting up and cutting off Harry's whine of protest. Louis reaches for the condom packet Harry dropped earlier and begins to unwrap the foil. "Trust me, I could continue doing that for days - not that I've tried - but I'm really desperate here, Harry. And I think, correct me if I'm wrong," Louis tosses the foil off to the side before he turns back to Harry and begins rolling it on him, trying desperately to keep himself from hopping on Harry and riding him until his legs are sore. "I think you're as desperate as I am to just let this happen already. What d'ya think, Curly?"

Harry swallows and nods ferociously, sitting up on his elbows to watch Louis. "Good then! It's settled. Just let me get you wet enough and-"

"Louis, no." Harry says, stopping his hand and sitting up. "You've already done enough, now it's my turn." Louis lays down slowly and Harry climbs over him, kissing softly at the cut of his jaw before taking Louis' hand and looking up at him. "You're gonna have to help me, I don't know what makes you feel good."

Louis nods before gulping, trying to find his voice. "Right, um, just make sure you're all slicked up and wet. Wouldn't imagine you keep lube around here too." 

"Actually-"  Louis slaps his bicep. "Heeeeey." Louis cocks his eyebrow daringly managing to get Harry to hold his hands up in mock surrender. "Kidding. Though if I'm being honest I'd much rather be kissing."

Louis rolls his eyes and scoffs, pulling Harry down for a sloppy, fun loving kind of kiss. Louis thinks he'll nickname it the Harry kiss. "The first thing you can do is get me out of these damn briefs already." Louis pants, red-cheeked and flushed. Harry giggles and pecks Louis' lips before kissing between his collar bones and down his sternum, following his sparse happy trail until he reaches the waistband of his pants. He kisses at the edge once more before tucking a finger underneath, pulling the band back and letting it snap into place.

"Harry." Louis says, annoyed. 

Harry laughs lightly before reaching up and kissing him on the lips. "Just wanted to see what you would do." He teases, grabbing at the waistband of Louis' briefs and shoving it down. He stares for a while. "Nice dick."

Louis snorts as he watches Harry, his stare still firmly and unwaveringly on his manhood. "Not so bad yourself." Harry still hasn't looked away and Louis' beginning to wonder if he's heard him at all, dropping his head onto the couch cushions and allowing Harry to bask in his glory for as long as he needs to. He doesn't expect it when he feels Harry's warm, wet palm gripping him before he starts tugging. Louis gasps and looks up, met with Harry's innocently curious eyes. His head drops in pleasure. "Fuck."

Louis doesn't like being made vulnerable and at the complete will of someone in any situation; in the bed - or on the couch - is not an exception. He bites his lip and allows his eyes to flutter shut before bringing his arm up to cover them, squeezing them tight and panting curse words as his hips thrust up involuntarily. Louis would say anything to defend his utter state of submission here, but he's not lying when he says Harry works a good hand. Or later when he admits in an interview that he's actually really good with them, truly.

Louis' startled when the pleasure stops.

Harry speaks up once Louis' incredulous gaze falls upon him. "I was calling your name and you weren't answering. I figured, well-" He looks away as if he's done something shameful. Harry meets his eyes again after a small pause. "Anyway, I was just...I want to finger you, Lou."

Harry's never been shameful when it comes to the things he wants and one would only think that that shamelessness would transfer easily when it came to the bed, especially with someone as blunt as Harry. Louis thinks of this after the initial shock he feels, but it's still there even after he reasons with the obviousness of it.

"You, uh- what?"

Harry doesn't falter in his response as he tells Louis the truth and it's then that Louis learns to hate his honesty just a little bit because wow he was not expecting that. "I imagine taking a dick up the arse dry is probably not a fun experience and you told me that being with a guy is just like being with a girl. Now, I know the anatomy's different and I've never given it to the back hole, but I assume the principles are nearly the same. And, I'm being cocky here, I do not shove my lust onto anyone without properly preparing them first. It is something I live by and I do get many compliments- hey!" Harry's grinning foolishly as he rubs at his arm, mocking pain from Louis' punch.

"You know, for a moment there I thought you were going to be all sentimental 'I'd do anything to make you feel good' with me." Louis scoffs.

"I'd do anything to make you feel good, with m- er,  Louis." Harry smiles down at Louis, tossing his fringe from his eyes in an overly lovey-dovey manner.

"Shut up, Harry."

Harry feigns true hurt before leaning into a slow, soft kiss on Louis' lips, rubbing his thumb softly across his cheek and staring down into his eyes only a few centimeters from his own. "May I finger you, Louis?" He whispers, just barely, but enough for Louis to feel his breath on his lips.

"You may, Harry." The corner of Harry's lip quirks at Louis' grant and he kisses him softly again. It's a ginger kiss, just the movement of lips on lips and shallow breaths mingling without the extremities of tongue and teeth. When Harry pulls away he's brought a few fingers between their faces.

"Suck." He says softly, and it's not commanding. Louis takes the fingers in gratefully and swirls his tongue all around them, his eyes staring innocently into Harry's the entire time.

 Harry pulls his fingers out with a small 'pop' and kisses Louis hard, but without loss of passion. Louis mewls when he feels Harry's finger prodding his hole and his hands tighten on Harry's shoulders when he puts his finger in entirely, eyes shut and whining as he thrashes underneath him. Harry wastes no time in reattaching their lips as he begins pumping his finger in and out of Louis a few times before adding another and curving them to find his spot. Boys had to have one, right? He knew he found it when Louis' body lifted and he thrust himself onto Harry's fingers. And if that wasn't enough to convince him, the sounds Louis was making were enough to convince him a hundred times over.

"Harry," He gasps, his grip tighter as it slides to Harry's biceps. "Harry, I'm ready."

Harry's lips are overly red and swollen when he pulls away from Louis' neck, but his fingers never falter. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, fuck, just get in me already." Harry nods, panting slightly and kisses Louis' neck once more then pecking his lips before he pulls away and lines himself up with Louis. It's a wonder to them both how Harry's lasted so long both hard and in a condom, but in the heat of the moment Harry didn't mind it much as long as Louis was feeling good. He spits in his hand and rubs himself over in place of not having lube and lines himself up until his head is prodding at Louis' hole. "Harry." He whines, and that's enough to make Harry push into him.

"Fuck." Harry's head falls into a hover above Louis' as he pushes in, his curls just barely touching Louis' forehead, hanging like a curtain around both of their faces. He begins thrusting slowly to the sound Louis' pants, but as Louis digs the blunt tips of his fingers into Harry's shoulder blades he can't help but go faster. The soft panting that Louis was dong earlier soon turns to grunts and moans of pleasure and Harry's trying to keep his composure as he stares down at Louis' pleasure-stricken face.  

Louis' panting a string of "Harry" 's and Harry's still staring down at Louis as he picks up the pace. He's panting and a line of sweat begins to form at his hair line, he's not sure how much longer he's going to last.


"I'm not gonna last much longer, Haz." Harry swallows and nods lightly, Louis' eyes now open and full of lustful concern. Harry plants his hands next to Louis's head and holds his upper body at a slant, his stomach rubbing on the head of Louis' cock with each thrust. Soon enough Louis' writhing beneath him and Harry's pretty sure there'll be a few bruises from where Louis' gripping his bicep in the next day or two, but the way Louis looks under him is enough to make that alright, to make him want them. He slows his thrusts, pulling out slowly and slamming back in in hopes of hitting that special spot that made Louis a moaning mess under him earlier. Louis' cries out and this time Harry knows he hit it and it's not long before Louis' coming on them both, whining hotly into Harry's neck. That's enough to take Harry over the edge, thrusting a few more times just to milk their orgasms for a bit longer.

Harry tries to catch himself before he collapses onto Louis, falling into the crack of the couch instead and pulling Louis half over his body so he doesn't fall. He manages to pull the condom off with one hand and ties it up holding it carefully in the hand that isn't being smashed by Louis' body. He feels satisfied, sure, but he also feels scared. He knows how these things go. Sometimes bringing someone to bed means the end of everything you had before. What if Louis realizes that this was all just a dazed, horny mistake? What if he goes back to feeling how he did before and, now, even worse? Of course Harry reminds himself that they're not in a bed but rather a couch, but the principle still carries. He also reminds himself that Louis was the one who initiated today's transpiring. What if that's all Louis wanted?


Harry sucks in a breath before replying. "Yeah, Lou?"

"I'm bloody cold. Also, you might consider throwing that away rather than just holding it like nothing." The words are unexpected and Harry's unsure of how to feel.

"Right." He agrees before carefully removing Louis from atop of him and moving to toss the condom. When he walks back into the room Louis' sitting up, a mischievous smile painting his features. Harry cocks his eyebrow.

"You've got a nice arse is all." Louis shrugs before tossing Harry his briefs.

"Thanks." He whispers, though he's not sure for what; the compliment or the warmth of his boxers? It really is chilly in the room. Harry's only just pulled up his sweats when Louis appears in front of him and grabs him for a kiss.

"Gonna go bathe. Be right back!" He says cheerily before skipping off with the rest of his clothes. Harry's stands frozen for a bit before he cracks a smile and his heart feeling warm and fluttery. Harry's just finished cleaning up and setting things back the way they were when the boys get home. Harry found some frozen cookies in the freezer that he put to bake so the house no longer smells like the dirty sex he and Louis just had. Niall's especially cheery, carrying three brown bags full of groceries to the counters before he starts whipping it all out.

Liam walks in and sets the keys on the counter and pats Harry on the shoulder as he makes his way to the fridge. "Everything alright?"

"Fine." Harry says, focusing his attention back to the bowl he's scrubbing.

"And you? Feeling better?" Liam asks, half of his body inside the fridge as he moves the groceries Niall piled in around to make more space. Harry sighs, unsure as his gaze reaches Zayn flicking through the channels on the telly, resting on the freshly made couch. Just as he's about to answer with a simple "Yeah", Louis walks into the kitchen, freshly washed and looking as cute as ever, meeting Harry's gaze with a small wink and a sly smile before passing him and grabbing the carton of milk. Harry rinses the bowl in his hands and sets it on the counter to dry, drying his own hands on his sweats before answering Liam, his heart fluttering harder than ever and the biggest smile on his face.

"Great, actually." And of the many times these words have slipped from his mouth holding no more truth to them than "I'm okay, really", Harry truly means them.


"It's a good thing you were fucked up the night before, I think the boys might've been suspicious as to why you looked so fucked over when they came home that morning. Blaming it on your hangover was just prime." Louis laughs to himself, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he stares up at the ceiling.

"Lou," Harry tries, but Louis' not having it.

"Hey Harry, what about that one time, you and I were-"

"Louis!" Louis looks startled, but Harry's finally caught his attention. He sighs. "What are we doing?" He whispers, grabbing at Louis' hand as it begins to slide from his chest, trying not to sound angry. He's just lost, is all. "I love you, Lou."

It's the first time either of them have said it when not immediately following an intense affair of passion or being mumbled during. Louis' tense and Harry's looking at him with open, hopeful eyes and all the vulnerability in the world, but also all the sincerity.

"I love, Lou, you're my best friend." Harry's now laying on his side, holding himself up on his elbow, and still clutching Louis' hand in his own. Louis knows he should feel relieved at Harry's words, but all he can feel in the moment is more crushed and heartbroken than ever before. "You're my best friend," Harry starts carefully, feeling around every word as it leaves his lips. "But you're much more than that, so much more than that, Lou. It's you and me, remember? But we're not even you-and-me anymore, we're just you." He pauses, placing Louis' hand on his heart then bringing it back to his chest and placing it on his own. "And me."

Louis' silent. "I love you and I don't understand why you won't just let me."

Louis feels a squeeze at his heart and he doesn't know what to say. "It's not that simple, Harry." He decides it's a good excuse because, really, a relationship together wouldn't be.

"It is that simple, Louis." Harry's desperately trying to hold onto hope and get Louis to understand, but they both know he's at the end of the rope. "We used to be 'LouisandHarry', me and you, but we're not anymore. We're just Louis and Harry and I hate that. And, fuck me for saying it, but there was a time when I believed you didn't like it either. I love you, Louis, and I'm not afraid to say it. I want to be with you, but God damnit Louis, you're ignoring all of my attempts at getting you to understand that!" Harry squeezes Louis hand over his heart. "I love you, Lou, I just wish you'd let me do that."

Louis' truly at a loss for words. It's silent in the moments that follow until he finally speaks up. "Then love me, Harry. Love me, right here, right now, for as long as you want to just love me. 'Cause now I'm giving you permission and I don't think I'll ever want to take it back. Love me in any way you'd like but bloody hell Harry, just don't forget that I'll always love you, too."

And Louis' finally said the words that have been choking him since their first kiss. Harry's eyes are wide and Louis' watching him carefully, his heart beating a mile a minute. It's not long at all before Harry's shocked expression is transformed into a face splitting grin and he's pouncing on Louis, kissing him all over the face. He plants a big, wet kiss on Louis' pleasantly shocked lips and Harry's just the cutest little thing Louis' ever seen, all giddy and happy. 

"You really mean it, Lou? You really love me?" Harry's biting his lip pretty hard, trying to hold back his grin and Louis thinks it must be hurting him pretty bad since his lips are white around where he's biting them instead of their usual rosy pink, and it's not even fractionally hiding his grin.

Louis cups Harry's hands, cupping his face. "Yes, Harry." He pauses, "I love you." Harry plants a fat kiss on his lips and Louis wipes at his mouth, mocking disgust. "Ugh, would you quit kissing me and make love to me already?"

"Of course." Harry smiles, leaning in for another kiss. Louis complies and moves his lips with Harry's, removing his shirt in the process. Harry pulls away, flushed and breathless as always.

He doesn't meet his eyes as he speaks, just plays with the hair at the side of Louis' face. "Hey, Lou? Do you remember what you said our first time, 'bout how you could go for days, giving me a blow?" Louis cocks his eyebrow and even though Harry doesn't see it he knows this is his response. "Well, do you think you could, um-" Harry's twirling Louis' hair between his fingers now - he might be open and shameless, but he's also a worrywart considerate. Louis rolls his eyes and scoffs, flipping them both over.

He stares Harry at him with Bambi eyes, noses touching and only centimeters away. "Only if you call me daddy." He says, and when Harry nods, wide-eyed and silent, Louis begins his decent down Harry's body. Soon enough Harry's hands are in Louis' hair messing up his perfect fringe, eyes screwed tight and panting broken "Daddy" 's as they create a new memory:

The first time they said 'I love you' to each other (and meant for the other to hear it).

twinklybinkly: (Default)
 It's been going on for a while now, this teasing of lace and bum and big baggy sweatshirts that leave only his teasingly tan legs on view (not to mention the countless men he brings around) and tonight is no different whatsoever. 

Harry's lying on the couch having a proper cup of tea and some biscuits when the front door slams open and Louis stumbles in backward with yet another man macking on his lips disgustingly loud. Louis' smiling against the heated touch, his eyes squinted and forming those little crinkles of happiness they always do when he smiles a genuine smile. And Louis' pulling back now, playing with the collar of the mystery man's shirt and whispering something teasingly at him, his smile still greatly intact. 

Harry clears his throat, eyes remaining on the telly screen. 

Louis looks over curiously as if just remembering that he had a flat mate. "Harry!" He chirps stupidly. He's not drunk, only buzzing and Harry can tell. Whatever. He giggles softly, his eyes all squinty at the sides again as pushes softly at the man's face, nipping and licking all over the side of his neck. Louis whispers softly for him to stop and - nope, Harry doesn't hear the whine the man gives, begging for Louis to take him upstairs as he lists all the things he promises to do to him if he does. Nope not at all. Harry also doesn't feel the need to stick a finger down his throat and bathe in scalding water until he feels clean again. Nope, not at all. 

"Harry, this is - er," Louis pauses, giggling to himself. "Why, it seems I've forgotten your name, would you mind tell him mate?"

"Robert." The man says flatly and drunkenly, starry eyes leaving Louis to glare over at the person who has further more halted all the naughty activities he really would have liked to have gotten to by now. It's not the first time and Harry's rather used to the rude stares he's often given, so he simply gives a small wave of his hand in both dismissal and the fact that he doesn't really care as the next day Louis will probably bring home another man by the name of Albert or Roberto or something. (Okay probably not since those are rather Spanish names but, really.) His eyes never leave the telly.

The next hour or so is filled with moans and shouts and giggles and screams and really Harry considers congratulating the guy for lasting so long. Most men in a bed with Louis never last more than a good fifteen minutes if they're lucky. Harry listens to him complain a lot. Sometimes Louis even likes to be a tease, make them wait for an hour or two and leave them tied up in the bedroom to come out and have a cuppa with Harry. Minx he is, and a right tease at that. Really he should consider doing it for a living. Pay off uni. Harry almost feels bad for the men that Louis brings back, but then he thinks about it and - eh, fuck them. (Then he sadly reminds himself that, well, Louis already has.)

Harry sighs when the short lived silence (minus the telly) is over and they go back to doing whatever it was they were doing before and retires to his bedroom to take a bath. A shower. A long shower. A long shower that - when he's finished doing the yoo-hoo - he sighs and comes out of with hunched shoulders and sick shame on his face. Whatever.

The man - Roberto or whatever (Robert, Harry knows that) - is leaving when Harry exits his room, running a towel lazily over his damp hair as he looks at the two with slight new found interest, stepping down the stairs in his slippers and robe as Louis kisses him goodbye, smiling all squintily and such. (Harry likes to make up words that describe Louis okay.) Louis shuts the door and rests his back against it when Robert's left, gazing up at the ceiling and staring in bliss. Harry almost looks around for the cameras that film this sitcom that is his life.

Louis looks over at Harry, eyes mischievous and smile cocky. Yeah. He knows what Harry was doing in the shower. What Harry is always doing in the shower. "Cuppa?" he asks casually.

Harry sighs and gives a soft laugh. "Yeah, all right."


So this goes on for another week or two, Louis prancing about in skimpy cloth (what he wears can hardly be considered clothing) and meeting guys at the door in said cloth with happy smiles or dragging them in in more or less proper clothing for wearing outdoors and smiling at their obvious handsy behavior just as he does every other day of the year as Harry sits passively on the sofa watching Netflix or something. Now that he thinks about it, Louis probably thinks he's depressed. He doesn't blame him now, for not taking the slightest bit of interest in him. He wouldn't either.

"Do you still like him, then?" Harry can hear the other boy's munching through the phone as he speaks with a full mouth.

Harry sighs. He hadn't even realized that he had a crush for his flat mate until Niall pointed it out six months ago. Yeah, six months ago. Since then Niall's always been his go to person to talk to when concerning Louis and his emotions for him. And every other aspect of his life. Harry really needs to get out more. "Yeah." He says, eyes closed as he leans his head against his hand, his tea gone cold. Louis walks in then and Harry startles up.

"Yeah, uh, listen Niall I'm gonna have to call you back. Yeah alright, love you too." And Harry ends the call with Niall cursing something much too undecipherable on the other end of the line, taking a sip of his tea and cringing as the cold liquid goes down. 

"Niall?" Louis asks curiously, coming around on the other end of the table and stealing Harry's cup for a sip. He cringes too.


"Said he loves you?" Louis' trying to act casual, he knows Niall but only just. Harry doesn't see through it.

"Hates me actually." Louis cocks his eyebrow and Harry waves him off. "Just banter. I hung up on him, hates that, he does."

Louis gives a light nod and entertains the biscuit at his lips, crumbs gathering at the corners of his mouth as he takes a bite. He's looking at the other biscuits on the plate and Harry really wants to wipe the crumbs off of Louis' mouth with his thumb and eat them. And okay maybe that's a bit weird, but it's Louis.  

He shoves the rest of the biscuit in his mouth, crunching loudly and swallowing thickly before splaying his hands on the tabletop and standing up. "Right," he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, "Well I'm going out tonight."

"As every night." Harry mumbles lowly, eyes on his tea as he pokes at the cool liquid and watches it ripple.


Harry looks up. "Nothing, go on." 

"Right, well I was just going to ask if you wanted to tag along. You're inside all day I just assume it gets lonely." 

Harry laughs lightly and waves him off. "Only lonely till you come home. You and your new bloke of course." And Harry might be a little bitter but he's only just woken up and his tea is cold I mean really it's as if the world is at its end. He sighs. "I'm fine, thanks. You go on and have your fun, don't worry about me."

"Yeah, alright." He says. "Well I'm just gonna bathe, maybe after we can watch a film?"

Harry smiles faintly. "Got 'em all on Netflix." Louis gives a light chuckle and walks back up to him room. Harry tries not to stare but Louis in lace is just a damn sin and Louis in lace that's only barely showing is just downright teasing. And also Harry's pretty sure Louis' wearing his jumper - more or less on purpose.

"Put some sweats on, yeah? Wanna cuddle when I get out." Louis says once he's at the top of the stairs and yeah Harry's kinda hard.


When Louis gets out of the shower about an hour later Harry is in the requested sweatpants, already laying on the sofa catching up on his Netflix shows. He stumbled with the remote when Louis first made his way into the room in a t-shirt and panties.

"I, uh - what do you want to watch?" Harry had stuttered, trying to keep his eyes from wandering. He was lying longways along the couch, half sitting up so he could address Louis, but Louis only gave a small laugh and flicked his damp fringe to the side before leaning in on the couch. 

"Budge over." He said before cuddling himself into Harry's body like perfect spoons. Harry's heart was erratic. 

In the end they ended up watching Pretty Woman with Julia Roberts who Louis claimed to absolutely love and Harry was alright with it because, come on, that movie is a classic. Plus it's Julia Roberts. Come on, now. Richard Gere wasn't all that bad either, made some pretty spectacular romcoms in Harry's opinion. But, as excited as Harry was to watch the film - cuddling with Louis no less - he ended up falling asleep embarrassingly quickly, fighting the droop in his eyes until he couldn't anymore, head falling from his palm to Louis' shoulder. Louis was alright with it.

When Harry wakes up again he's alone and he sheet they were cuddling under is cold and rumpled where Louis was. Harry's heart kind of drops, but it's not as if Harry's not used to it, he is. Louis always breaks his heart - whether purposely or not it's completely unrelenting. Whatever. He's used to it. Harry reaches for his phone on the coffee table, laying back and opening the message Niall sent him.

Do something about it, knob.

Harry sighs. He knows Niall is right, he really needs to do something. Maybe he should move out, that would solve his problems. Before Harry has a chance to Google cheap flats in whatever city it is they live in - damn, Harry really needs to get out - Louis' at the door, bag strapped over his shoulder as he searches for his keys or phone or something. 


Louis looks up surprised. "Harry, I thought you were asleep. I was just heading out." He says almost as if he feels bad. Harry shakes his head. 

"Hey, um Louis, I was wondering, could we, uh, talk?" Harry stutters along. He really doesn't know how he managed it. 

Louis gives a lopsided frown. "Could it wait till later? 'M 'sposed to meet Zayn up for drinks and I'm already running late."

Harry nods. "Yeah, alright." Louis smiles gratefully before bidding Harry goodbye and heading out the door. Harry really hates himself. Okay, no he doesn't, but he does feel really bad about himself. Why'd it have to be Louis of all people? The one person Harry didn't even have a sliver of a chance with. (Along with many others Harry has no chance with, he sadly reminds himself, but, you know, whatever.)

No can do, buggeroo

Harry replies and, yeah Harry's pretty damn lame. W h a t e v e r. Harry sighs and pulls out his laptop. If he's going to be lonely for the next few hours...


Louis had a good time with Zayn till half past nine when he said he needed to get back to his missus. Lame-o. (Louis' cool, he can say things like that.) Either way the night was good, when Zayn left he was bummed, but then some bloke on the other end of the bar bought him his favorite fruity drink and all was good with the world again. Louis accepted it gratefully, teasing the tip of the straw and sipping as he eyed and winked a thank you to the man who bought it for him.

Long story short, Louis finished his drink and gave a few teasing hip-swivel dance moves on the disco lit floor and it really didn't take long for the man to grind on his behind (again, cool) and offer to pay cab fare if Louis fancied getting out of there. Louis did. It was a bit difficult making it up the steps and kissing heavily until his flat on the second floor, and this guy was definitely much more handsy than any guy he'd met before. Louis liked that. They made it safely, though, Louis giggling and fumbling with his keys as he tried to get them into the flat. 

Getting distracted by the guy and turning around to push his face away, Louis was giggled and told him to stop so he could get them in. He replied that his opposition wasn't all that convincing and he really wouldn't mind getting in Louis right out there. Before Louis could reply the door swung open revealing a panting, wide-eyed Harry with blown pupils and sex hair. Might also mention he was shirtless and pant-less judging by the low hang of his sweat. Yeah, might definitely mention. For sure. One hundred percent. Yes. All three men are frozen on the spot, Louis looking at Harry shocked and kind of really with a lot of lust, the bloke looking up from Louis' neck in surprise, and Harry just looking at them. Together. About to get it on in the hall. 

Harry clears his throat. "Er, Louis." He greets awkwardly. "Uh, yeah. Sorry bloke, gotta go." Harry says, grabbing Louis' wrist and pulling him in, closing the door on the protesting bloke. Harry meets Louis' shocked eyes and he stares at him speechlessly, his mouth slightly open. Harry moves to say something but thinks it over and pulls the door open just enough to stick his head out.

"Er, have a nice night."

When he pulls back in Louis' still staring up at him speechlessly. Harry doesn't say anything. 

"Uh, Harry," He tries, but before he can say anymore Harry's crashed his lips awkwardly onto Louis, one hand at the side of his face and the other on his hip. Louis' not resistant and kisses back after a moment of shock with tongue and all and Harry probably gets a little too excited, pushing his lips harder against Louis' in an attempt to get closer. Unfortunately Harry did happen to get a little too excited and the back of Louis' head strikes the wall pretty hard. Harry pulls away looking at Louis filled with worry.

"Oh my god, Louis, are you alright?" Louis' hand is holding the back of his head and he cringes a little at the pain but waves Harry off. 

"'M fine, really, but don't quit kissing me, yeah? Quite liked it." Harry looks at him speechlessly with wide, shocked eyes. Louis smirks. "Well go on then." He says, wrapping his arms around Harry's waist with a tempting smirk on his lips. "Kiss me." He purrs and Harry's eyes almost roll back as he leans in and smashes their lips together again - though this time not as aggressively as before, cautious of Louis' head and the wall behind it.

Harry pulls away panting when he needs a breath again. "Tried to wank when you were gone." Harry admits through pants, eyes never leaving Louis'.

Louis smirks. "Oh yeah? And how'd that go."

Harry kisses him again, moaning before pulling away. "Couldn't stop thinking 'bout you."

"D'ya have a good wank, then?" Harry shakes his head soundlessly. 

"Couldn't stop thinking 'bout fucking you the whole time."

"Well now you have me, Styles, what are you going to do about it?" Louis says, his fingers crawling up the sides of his abdomen. 

"What do you think?" Harry smiles, leaning in and kissing Louis again in a clash of teeth, tongue and lips. "'M gonna take you, if you let me." He says pulling away.

Louis rolls his eyes and pulls Harry in again. "Shut up and take me, yeah?" 

Harry bites his lip and leans in again, smacking lips with Louis excitedly. It was a messy kiss, but it was good, fun, and Harry can't get enough of it. He wraps his arms around Louis' waste, pulling his body into his own as close as he can, stepping back and leaning into the kiss until Louis' back was arched and he was clinging onto Harry for his balance, laughing through the kiss. Harry's heart flutters at the sound and his smile can't get any bigger when he hears it, biting Louis' bottom lip lightly before soothing it over with his tongue. Harry pulls away.

"Why don't we take this upstairs, yeah?" Louis bites his lip and nods.

"'Ve got lube in my bedroom." He says feigning innocence. Harry looks at him strangely. 

"What? And you think I haven't?" Louis laughs and rolls his eyes. 

"Well we'll see who gets there first, then?"

Harry's eyebrow quirks. "Is that a double innuendo?" Louis only winks, biting his lip and squirming out from Harry's arms to run up the steps to his bedroom. 

Harry just watches him go, an adoring smile on his face and a little twinkle in his eye and he's pretty sure he's never felt happier in his life - this moment is definitely not just whatever. He follows him after a moment, gripping the railing for balance as he bounds up excitedly. He's looking at the floor when he enters Louis' room, excited grin on his features as his gaze flicks up and meets Louis' seductive one. Louis is looking at Harry with clouded eyes, his head tilted and fringe falling in a properly disheveled manner - sex hair, Harry would describe it. He's got his thumbs hooked on the loops of his skinnies and he's watching Harry watch him before he turns around and drops his jeans, bending over slowly to pull them down his legs.

Once they're off he kicks them to the side, walking forward and peeling the sweater he was wearing off and tossing it on the floor as well. Harry's frozen on the spot, mouth dry and eyes wide as he watches Louis saunter about in yet another pair of his lace panties. Harry's seen most of Louis' lace collection - Louis likes to show off a bit - and he's pretty sure he's never seen this particular piece of cloth before. Most certainly not on Louis. But, they look familiar. 

It's a light lace, pretty and soft looking - it reminds Harry of the apparent softness a woman is told to possess, feminine. (He wouldn't really know.) It's very Louis like, actually. Feminine but only just so and fitting perfectly. It's a light, pretty blue with a slight brightness to it. Harry never really quite realized how tan Louis is, but the blue of the lace against his skin made it all the more apparent. And that's when Harry realizes the familiarity of it. He gulps.

"I hope you don't mind," Louis says, bending over the other end of the bed and watching Harry with his head propped on his hand, elbow on the bed to hold him up. "But I saw this in your bedroom and I just had to have it." Louis pouts, looking at Harry with his best puppy eyes.

"Guess you'll have to spank me." 

So Harry doesn't get out much. He stays inside most of the time, watching Netflix or doing some other pathetic thing like playing Scrabble by himself or, you know, wanking. The whole time trying to keep his mind off of Louis of course. But, as Harry is somewhat a normal human being, he has to get out at some point. Those days usually go alright, Harry's pretty awkward as it is so he kind of just walks around trying to seem normal but really just wanting to get back home and under the covers for an extra-long reintroduction of Netflix and life at home. Does Harry have a significant other in his life? Yes. Her name is Netflix. Nothing serious, though, Harry's already had his eye on someone for much too long of a time. He and Netflix are tight though, never doubt that. 

So it's safe to say that every time Harry goes out he sees something that reminds him of Louis (everything) and convinces himself to buy it because he's already out anyway and this whole ordeal is sad anyway so might as well get something out of it. Those were last month's sad purchase, the knickers. Louis had bent over outside the door to pick up the mail in one of those damn thongs of his and Harry really needed to get out before he got a boner he would have to try and hide the rest of the day. Or wank off. Either way Harry didn't want that today. He had called up Niall to come walk around the mall with him, but half way through he had to leave, explaining he had this thing he had to go to and it was really important and no time to explain. (His fuck buddy called.) Everyone in Harry's life was getting laid consistently except him and that was kind of sad but Harry knocked off that thought when he spotted a pair of blue knickers that looked a mighty lot like the color of Louis' eyes. Harry instantly regretted the purchase but kept them anyway, threw them somewhere in one of his drawers and forgot about them just like everything else he purchased because of Louis. (Whatever.)

It only take Harry a second or two to process which of course goes straight to his dick and he's almost instantly hard that it hurts. Still, his eyes are wide and he can't move, but even if he could he's not even sure what he would do. 

Louis pouts further. "I'm sorry, daddy." And yeah Harry definitely thinks Louis should do this for a living. "Were you planning on wearing them?" Harry shakes his head.

"I'm just a really bad boy," Louis says, sticking his butt further in the air until he's looking up at Harry with his cheek on the mattress. "You're all I ever think about when I'm with those other guys. I just wish I could have you, they're never that good anyway."


"Baby." Louis cuts him off.

"Er- baby, would you get on the bed for me, please?" Louis' face brightens up with that stupid smile of his and Harry doesn't know how but he gets harder at that as well. Louis bites his lip through his grin and nods his head, crawling over to the middle of the bed. 

"Of course, daddy." He chirps, sitting cross legged in the middle of the bed. 

"Right." Harry says with a curt nod. He's not sure what's supposed to do now, but he supposes at least he's got a start. This is really happening. (Of course when Harry imagined it he always assumed the roles would be switched and Harry would be the compliant baby with a cock up his arse but you know. Whatever. It's happening.)

"So, um, tell me," He continues, walking over and climbing onto the bed in front of Louis, "Where did you find those knickers?" 

"See, I went to your room to tell you that I was heading out," Harry nods as Louis begins his explanation, hands on his shoulders as he begins to lay him back slowly, eyes on Louis' as he speaks to him. "But you were in the tub and I figured I could just wait, tease you a bit for doing what you were doing in there or I could leave." He says and his voice is all innocence, even the small snicker he gives at 'doing what you were doing' and Harry finds it really amazing that he can portray it so easily, but he tries his hardest to remain impassive.

"Go on." He encourages softly, fingers playing with the hem of the lace at Louis' hipbone, eyes on his. Louis nods and looks back up at the ceiling as he relays the events to Harry.

"I sat myself on your bed - it's really very comfortable, by the way, I'm quite surprised that I haven't snuck in to cuddle with you and also a little bit offended you haven't invited me in." Louis pouts and Harry's fingers begin trailing up his warm, tan skin slowly, feathery touch drawing patterns on the expanse of his skin softly. Harry looks up at him, fingers pausing. 


"And then I saw some of the lace hung on the corner of your drawer and I was curious so I went over to see what it was and I couldn't help myself when I took them. And they were just my size, which is smaller than you, so I figured, why not?"

"Did you wear them with other men?"

Louis looks down at him confused. "Did you wear them, the knickers, when you were with other men?" Louis looks at him shyly. 

"Tell me about it." Louis just stares.

Harry leans up, whispering in Louis ear then kissing it softly. "Tell me about it." 

Harry leans back, trailing his kisses softly down his neck and tracing his lips over his collarbone. "Did they kiss you all over like this, treat you right?" Louis shakes his head and Harry leans up, kissing at the joint of his jaw before pulling up and meeting his eyes.

"Did you call them Daddy?" Louis shakes his head again. "Speak up, baby."

"No, you're my only daddy." Harry smiles. 

"Good," He says, pecking at the corner of his lip. "Now kiss me, alright? Nothing else, just kiss me." Louis' eager and Harry's hiding his nervousness very well - this will be their first kiss. Well, first sober kiss. Harry remembers quite clearly that one night he and Louis got piss drunk and made out a bit. Louis doesn't seem to recall it and neither of them brought it up, but Harry knows that's the night he convinced himself he had a chance with Louis, the night he fell in love with him.

"I - can I, um?" Louis begins, hands curled up like a puppy's paws against his chest as he tries to get the words out. 

Harry smiles softly, placing his hand on Louis' folded wrists. "You can do whatever you want with your hands except touch yourself, alright?"

Louis' face brightens. "I can touch you?"

"All over." 

Harry smiles and Louis' hands go straight to Harry's shoulders, pulling him down as he leans in. When their lips meet it's a tangle of tongue of tongue and mouth and it's just the perfect combination of heated and passionate. Harry's left hand is at Louis rib cage, holding onto him as they kiss and after a few moments of just lips and tongue Harry brings his other hand up and thumbs Louis' nipple, giving pressure before circling it. Louis whines into Harry's mouth, arching up into his touch.

Harry shushes him softly. "It's alright, baby." He pants between kisses, eyes meeting Louis' briefly before leaning back in and kissing him. "Just keep kissing me." His hand begins trailing down Louis' torso until he's palming his crotch softly over the lace, lips working against Louis' passionately as he whines into it. 

Louis gasps. "Daddy."

"Shh, it's alright baby. Now, will you turn around for me?" Harry asks and he doesn't really quite know what he's doing, hasn't thought it through, but he goes along with his spur of the moment outbursts.

Louis does so eagerly, turning over on his hands and knees, sticking his bum up in the air and looking back at Harry hopefully. "Like this?" 

Harry smiles softly. "Yes baby, that's good. Do you know why I asked you to turn around like this?"

Louis bites his lip and this switch of roles is really starting to get to Harry. "Because I've been bad." 

 Harry nods, crawling on his knees behind Louis. "So what does that mean?"

"I need to get punished." 

"And how do you think we should go about that, baby?"

Louis bites his lip. "I think you should spank me, daddy."

Harry doesn't respond, touching at the lace on Louis' bum delicately before flicking his gaze over to Louis'. "Does my baby want me to spank him or does he deserve it?"

Louis bites his lip. "He deserves it." Harry's eyes are back on Louis' arse, his fingers tracing over the skin beneath the seam of the lace softly. Louis wiggles away a little, the touch tickling. 

 "I think I'm gonna leave these on you, what do you think about that, love?"  

Louis keens at the nick name. "Whatever you want."

Harry smiles, leaning over and laying his chest on Louis' back, kissing his shoulder softly before whispering in his ear. "Will you count for me, baby?" Louis nods eagerly and Harry leans back, hands massaging Louis' ass.

He doesn't tell Louis when he's about to strike, so when he lifts his hand and smacks his cheek (not as hard as he can, but hard enough) Louis jolts forward at the unexpected but very much welcomed pain, whimpering softly and biting his lip to keep from making any noise. Harry massages the pinking skin and gives a little pinch when Louis doesn't call out the number.

"One." Louis squeaks, looking back at Harry from over his shoulder.

Harry smiles and runs his hand softly over the hot skin. "Good boy." He says, eyes meeting Louis'. "Think you're ready for more?" Louis bites his lip and nods, hiding his face shyly behind his shoulder, eyes only barely visible.

Harry hits harder the next time, and the time after that, and progressively so until he's reached the fifth slap on Louis' right cheek only to turn and do the same to Louis' left. Harry's cautious though, careful that Louis is alright with it and that it doesn't hurt him too much. Louis likes it though, gets a kind of rush from the pain and the fact that it's Harry. He's so engulfed in the feeling of Harry and his heat and his hands and his caring, praising words that he really doesn't want Harry to stop, would be fine with it if he spanked him for the rest of his life. Which is good because Harry doesn't think he ever wants to stop. The rosiness of Louis fantastic arse and the feel of heat beneath his hands is enough to make him crazy, and that's excluding the little whimpers and whines Louis makes after every slap and the long gaps between. They're both horny and impatient and Louis' hard and leaking inside his blue lace thong and Harry's hard in his sweats, but he keeps it cool, doesn't want to rush it even though he actually really does want to rush it because fuck he wants to fuck Louis. He needs to. He has to. He is going to.

Louis whines when it's over and Harry's hands are left still on both of his heated cheeks. Louis breathes in hard pants when Harry pulls the lace over them and it's a kind of pain that is so welcome and so good tears begin to sprout in his eyes because he's horny and he really needs Harry right now. So bad. (Bad enough to cry for it, or lack of, rather.)

So that's what Louis does. He turns his head back to look at Harry as his pulls his knickers down his thighs, tears in his eyes as he watches and Louis just looks so fucked over Harry can't help that he gets hard at his disheveled state, properly desperate. Louis chokes out a sob.

"Daddy, please." He whines, hands clenching the bed sheets and biting his lip to keep himself from rutting back against Harry's sweats just to feel something

Harry doesn't say anything, only leans over with a hand on Louis' right bum cheek as he kisses Louis' temple softly, pulling away by only a centimeter and looking at Louis with soft eyes. "Where's your lube, baby?" He asks softly, hand combing back stray strands of Louis' fringe. 

Louis stays silent, the tears in his eyes welling up even more. 

"You can talk baby, come on." Harry soothes softly, petting his hair back. He leans in to whisper at Louis' ear, "I can't fuck you unless you tell me, baby. That's what you want, isn't it? My cock up your ass?" Louis whines softly, teeth biting harder into his bottom lip. Harry runs his hand softly over Louis' bum cheek and he gasps under his, eyes fluttering shut. 

"Daddy," Harry's rubbing soft circles over the heated skin with his thumb now, watching as Louis' face screws in pain and pleasure. "In the top drawer." He pants, eyes still screwed shut and eyebrows furrowed as he whines and pants softly beneath Harry's touch. Harry leans in and places another kiss at his temple before pulling off the bed and reaching into the top drawer of Louis' nightstand. 

When he finds it alongside a few very obscene looking toys Harry's never even known existed, he shoves to drawer shut and shucks of his sweats before hopping back onto the bed quickly. He quickly gets enough lube on his fingers making a mess on the bed, but not quite caring as he pets over Louis' bum softly. "You ready, baby?" He asks softly to which Louis responds with a rather eager nod, head turning over his shoulder to look at Harry. 

Harry's hand is at the top of his bum already, pulling his cheeks apart carefully, meeting Louis' gaze briefly before he looking back and inserting a finger carefully. Harry's not really done this much at all ever for anyone else before so this is a double-ended new experience for everyone. Actually just Harry. It's really not long at all before Louis' whining and shoving back softly against Harry's slow moving finger, begging for more. Who would Harry be if he didn't comply?

He adds another finger, building a rhythm both slow enough to be torturous and fast enough to leave Louis begging for it. Which is exactly what he does. His eyes are screwed shut but his head is still turned and Harry can see all the pleasure that his simple fingers are feeding into Louis' system, crying and begging for more. Louis' panting, chanting a chorus of 'Daddy' s and 'Please, please, please' s with so much desperation in his voice and on his face that Harry thinks if he doesn't do something soon they may both end up cumming before anything really happens and Harry most definitely is not going to let that happen. 

He pulls his fingers out, not daring to venture to a third for fear of an early ending and reaches over to Louis' nightstand for a condom, shushing Louis as he whines softly in desperation. Without much delay, Harry's got the condom on and is beginning to lube himself up when Louis shoves himself back, bum sliding across the covered tip of Harry's dick. Harry's eyes widen and screw shut at the sensation - Harry might be really good at keeping himself under control without a touch for long periods of time (having always usually getting rather embarrassingly large boners in public or around Louis), but it's been an extremely long time since he's had any and he's really truly afraid he might blow any second now and much too soon.

He finishes lubing himself up quickly, kneeling behind Louis and grabbing at his hips as he lines himself up. "You sure about this, baby?" Louis nods, bloodshot eyes on Harry's concerned ones. Harry nods. "Alright." He says before lining himself up once again.

When he enters Louis, slowly and just barely with the head of his dick, it's probably the most surreal thing Harry's ever felt. And probably the best. Louis' bum is warm and tight and just about everything Harry could have ever dreamed of (and has). He sucks in and involuntary breath of pleasure and Louis does too, eyes fighting to keep open as he stares at Harry. When Harry's in all the way he doesn't hesitate to begin moving, slowly at first, seconds passing between every slap of skin before building a quicker rhythm that has both him and Louis holding out for more. 

They're both panting now and Harry's trying really hard, thrusting with everything he has, to find Louis' sweet spot and he knows he's found it when Louis' shoulders drop and he cries out a broken "Daddy!". He turns his focus to reaching that spot with every thrust, keeping his mind off his own pleasure for time's sake until Louis looks back at him, face blotchy and eyes filled with tears before they shut again in broken pleasure. Harry pulls his bottom lip into his mouth, biting roughly as his grip sinks into the skin of Louis' hips. Louis looks back up at Harry, tears still in his eyes and his mouth forms a little pout around his words.

"Daddy, please, please can I-" Louis' words get cut off by another cry of pleasure and that's when Harry remembers he forbid Louis from touching himself. He feels bad, knowing how bad it must be hurting him by now, but..

"Not yet, baby. You can hold it, yeah?" He pants thrusts getting faster and sloppier, just trying to finish off already, but not too quickly. Louis bites his lip and nods softly, eyes bloodshot. Harry leans over and kisses his shoulder softly, his thrusts getting slow before he pulls back and picks up his rhythm again. "Good boy."

Harry continues his thrusts, fingers spreading Louis' still warm cheeks as he watches himself enter Louis over and over again. Louis turns back too, sniffling and twisting his body to get a look as well. Harry can't help himself when he cums, between Louis' abused hole and his tear stained face Harry was absolutely hopeless. He feels the worst though, pulling out of Louis and discarding of his condom quickly before flipping him onto his back as he whimpers from the emptiness and the harsh rub of the sheets on his cheeks.

Harry doesn't waste a moment diving in and taking Louis' dick into his mouth hurriedly, not wanting to make Louis wait a single second more. Louis gasps and Harry can tell that it was unexpected and Louis really, really sobbing now, hands at Harry's hair as he watches him with watery eyes. Harry's a bit rusty, gag reflex kicking in slightly as he takes Louis in further. He ignores it though and gives it all, going down until his nose nuzzles at Louis' pubes, forcing himself down on Louis' cock. He continues bobbing as fast as he was thrusting, hands holding Louis' waist to keep him still. Louis cums when Harry's reached his base again, hands clenching at his disheveled curls as the sobs of his intense pleasure rack through his body. 

Harry pulls off slowly, cheeks hollowed before he swallows, leaning back in to lick at Louis softly until he shifts and pants in discomfort. Harry places a small kiss at the tip of Louis' now flaccid dick before pulling up beside Louis and wrapping his arms around him in a cuddle, placing a soft kiss on his forehead. Harry doesn't want to say the words that are at his throat, knows that it's much too soon even given what they just did together. He just hopes that this wasn't a one-time thing and maybe he'll have a chance to say them later.

Instead he lets the moments of silence that follow pass soundly, petting Louis' hair back as he sniffles under him softly. Louis puts a hand on Harry's chest and scoots away from him, Harry's hold falling easily from him as he watches in confusion. Louis wipes at his eye and huffs a laugh before speaking. 

"I'm not a dog, Harry." Louis' smiling up at him and Harry knows he's only trying to move on from what's just happened without being awkward. Harry gives him his best confused look. 

"I certainly hope not. Don't know how I'd go about explaining to my mum I'm a beastialit-ist." Louis rolls his eyes but cracks a smile anyway, shaking his head as Harry looks at him happily.

"You know what I think you were better off petting my hair." 

"Does that mean I get to cuddle you?" Harry flirts with a cheeky smile. 

Louis rolls his eyes. "Shut up." He scoots into Harry's arms and rests his head on his chest. They've both got their breath back and Louis likes the rhythm of Harry's breathing, slow and soothing, but they're both thinking of so much right now there's not a chance of sleep anytime soon. Okay that's actually probably a lie. 

After a little while more of silence and breathing, Harry speaks up with a new found thought revelation. "Louis?"

"Yeah?" He answers softly, relaxed and dazed by sleep.

"That guy I kicked out earlier, he's not gonna kill me or anything, right?" Louis laughs against Harry's chest, sighing comically after.

"Well he's a bit of a pro wrestling fan." 


Louis laughs again, turning Harry over on his back and laying on his front. Harry looks up at him confused. "You? Will do, babe. Anytime." He winks, leaning in and capturing Harry's lips in a snog. It's slow enough to enjoy but heated enough to get things going and soon enough they're both going on hard again. Louis pulls away and Harry's looks dazed.

"I'm on top this time." And Harry can't help but brighten up at that, eyes fluttering in excitement as Louis straddles his stomach and leans in for another kiss. He pulls away and begins placing soft kisses down Harry's torso, Harry's hand running through Louis' soft hair, thinking. Louis bites on the side of his stomach and Harry flinches and moans at the slight painful pleasure of the love bite, his other hand in his own hair as he begins to pant softly.

Louis makes his way lower, licking, sucking, and nipping occasionally until he's reached his dick, placing soft, dry kisses on the length of it. 

"Pro wrestling?" Harry pants, eyes on the ceiling as his hand runs through Louis' hair. Louis doesn't answer, just gives a kitten lick to the side of his dick before trailing his kisses lower on his length. "You pick the worst guys, you know that? Hasn't he ever heard of football?" 

Louis peppers kisses up the length of Harry's dick before pulling away. "Shut up, Harry." He says before taking him in without warning. It's unsure if Louis was trying to shut Harry up with what he was pursuing for the second time that night, but Harry was most definitely not quiet after that and their neighbors may or may not call the cops or complain or something about a seemingly crying child crying Daddy all night long, but, you know, whatever. 

(They fucked.)


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September 2014

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