Redamancy (1/3) : Mentalistecbm Unevenfootsteps

1/11/14 1:29 AM lovewilts: Redamancy [1/3]
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Redamancy [1/3]
-
notes: massive thank you to betsy ( mentalistecbm) for being my beta and elizabeth (
unevenfootsteps) for the insane amount of cheer leading and re-reading she did for
me. like, guys, i didn't sleep. i'm still awake. shit. anyway, i'm so swamped with my other
wip's i might be hiding in my google docs for a while. feel free to bug me about updating
- god knows i need it. lyrics credit to mumford & sons' liar, and quotes are from the
movie casablanca. i hope everyone enjoys! | warnings: slightly au. language, angst,
sexual content, consent boundaries |
-
Oh please, don't cry, you liar -
You're leaving for your last kiss
& who in this world could ask me to resist
-
Well always have Paris, a voice rumbles behind him, and Harry turns
around in his spot to face Louis Tomlinson. Louiss face is pale underneath
the airports harsh lighting and there is stubble on his chin. He looks tired.
Harry shifts on his other foot, holding his back tightly. A twist in his gut.
What are you doing here?
You know what Im doing here, Louis cuts him off. He looks around for a
second, probably for paparazzi, tugging the beanie closer over his ears. Ive
come to bring you back, obviously.
Harry shakes his head, and feels a grim smile curl around the corners of his
mouth, And what makes you think I want to go back with you?
Louis rubs the back of his neck, and for the first time since coming up
beside Harry like a total creep, looks sheepish. I didnt. I didnt think.
Harry crosses his arms, looks away. The terminal is so close. He should be
boarding soon.
Louis says, I dont want you to go, his admission is private, voice is soft.
His tone reminds Harry of all those secretive, little moments from before -
but. But its best not to dwell on those, at least not now. Its a painful
feeling, Harry thinks bitterly, to miss someone standing right in front of
you.
Harry shrugs, arms spread in defense. His can feel his face scrunch up, and
hes cornered. He feels completely cornered. I already told you, I cant keep
doing this. Please just let me go in peace, Lou. Please dont make this a big
thing.
But I want -
What about what I want? Harry cuts him off angrily, before shaking his
head, erasing the words that threaten to tumble out of his mouth. Im
sorry.
I am too.
So its like this, Harry realizes, and he kind of wants to cry, but he doesnt.
Instead he smoothes the wrinkles of Louis maroon sweatshirt. Hes not
allowed to touch him anymore than that, and theres one of the reasons,
right there, why this never worked out in the first place.
Harry watches as Louis stares at Harrys hand, tracing the curve of his
shoulder for a second, and his line of sight follows Harrys fingers back to
where they cling at the bag on his shoulder. And because Harrys been a
goner since day one, he quotes back to him, Heres looking at you, kid.
Louis nearly chokes. Harry boards his plane, and thats how it ends.
-
The story begins one blustery day in May. Its sunny but the wind has kept
up nearly all morning and Harry isnt keen on going outside. Its warm in
the bookstore, even though it smells musty, and hes just opened a packet of
his favorite biscuits. Hes trying hard not to count the clock on the wall.
Their first customer comes in three hours after Harrys clocked in, and
while hes glad there is business, he has to turn down his wireless and stand
up. Look interested. He hopes this guy will just find what he needs and
leave, or just leaves in general, as long as he doesnt browse. Browsing is the
devil.
The guy disappears behind the tall bookcases, between the Romance and
Sci-Fi section, as little and unimportant as they seem to be, and Harry
catches the tip of a very pink hat between shelves.
Finally, he says, Do you know what I can help you find?
The guy looks skittishly around the store like its bugged, and Harry
inwardly groans, like here we go. Another nutter. Then he says, Um. Do
you guys sell DVDs here too?
Um. Harry looks around even though it isnt necessary. No.
Oh, the guy looks crestfallen, even though its a bookstore for christ's sake
and maybe if Harry knew the store wasnt so hard up for sales hed direct
the guy elsewhere.
Well, how about mystery books?
Harry perks. Sure. Ill show you.
The guy ends up being pretty nice, albeit strangely jumpy and he has his
dark sunglasses on the whole time even though theyre inside and its a bit
pompous of him to. Harry chatters away on uselessly though anyway,
because hes bored and hell just be returning back to his sweets, and the
guy seems generally interested in whatever the hell hes saying.
He rings the guy up for a few different novels, including The Count of Monte
Cristo, one of his favorites, and a collection of short stories by Stephen
King.
Im Harry, by the way, Harry says, and he feels immediately lame. His
cheeks burn because he has no idea why he says that, there isnt any real
reason to say that at all, but its been said, and thats that.
The guy looks up, and then he pushes his dark sunglasses up his forehead.
His styled hair is molded out of place for a second. Er. Hello Harry. Im
Louis, Louis smiles brightly. Thank you for these.
Harry breathes out, and thinks that Louis, without his sunglasses on, looks
vaguely familiar.
-
He doesnt get it until he goes back to his dorm and passes a music shop on
the way home, and Louis - the man from the bookstore - Louis face is
staring right back at him from the poster. And then Harry kind of gets it.
Louis as in Louis Tomlinson, one-fourth of the boyband One Direction, and
seeing as Harry lived in a very active dorm, with girls who had openly
fawned over how wonderful and precious those One Direction boys were, he
should have gotten it sooner. He realizes how much of an idiot he must have
looked, too.
Whatever, Harry tells himself derisively, because since when has he cared,
its not like youre going to see him again anyway.
-
He does see Louis again, and theres such a gap between the first time in the
bookstore and now that Harry almost forgets his embarrassment.
Hello, Harry, Louis greets him, his hood up around his face even though it
is July and already too warm for Harrys liking. Harry can feel heat bloom
in cheeks at Louis endearing smile.
Hi, um, what can I do for you today? Harry asks, clicking his pen on the
counter and then realizing how annoying that is, so he stops and puts his
hands flat on the register. His palms are sweating (from the heat, alright).
Well the books you suggested were really good. I read them in my down
time and Im not much of a reader otherwise, but these, these were good.
Really. Harry deadpans. So what did you like about the Count of Monte
Cristo, then?
Er, Louis looks around. Hes much more tan than the first time Harry saw
him, hiding behind giant, bug-eyed sunglasses. Louis throws up his hands in
defeat. Okay! Okay. I didnt read them. I remembered there was this really
cute boy in a bookstore and Id thought Id come say hi.
Harrys not sure how to respond to that, so he just kind of blinks and hopes
his blush hasnt bypassed tomato-red yet.
Okay, shit. Sorry. I should be better at this, but course Im not. Sorry.
Again, Louis finishes, running a hand through his feathery bangs and
Harry did not just describe Louis bangs as feathery, oh god -
Um. Well. This is awkward.
Well you didnt have to say it was awkward. Now we have to acknowledge
why its awkward, and it would have been so much better if I just walked out
silently and we could have put this whole thing behind us.
Sorry? Would you really have just turned and left without saying another
word? Thats a bit freaky, mate.
Louis huffs, and Harry wonders if when he woke up this morning the
universe knew this was how his day was going to turn out. No, I guess not. I
mean, it was an option until now.
Oh, its not now?
No. Now Ive got to tell you that Im sorry for making you uncomfortable. I
am truly horrible at hitting on people while Im not drunk.
Well, have you ever tried sober?
Louis looks outside the window briefly, skittishly like the last time, but
Harry surmises now that he could be watching for paparazzi. At that
thought he colors all over again, but hes got an international superstar in
the bookstore, and on top of that, hes trying to pick Harry up. Hes
surprised he hasnt puked in embarrassment.
Cause it might work, you know, Harry says after a pause, and his voice
shakes a little because all he can think of is what the hell am I am saying
and Im sure Im the color of a beet by now, God.
Obviously not, Louis sighs, rubbing his face. Lets try it again. Harry, you
are lovely. A very lovely bookstore keeper. Would you like to go out to for
afternoon tea with me?
Um. I get off at one? Harry squeaks, and Louis beams, his whole face
lighting up.
Perfect. Ill send a car then.
Oh, no, I have a bike - Harry protests, flushing even darker at the thought
of a car being sent for him, but Louis already pulled his hood up and
stalked out of the bookstore. Harry bites the inside of his lip and wonders
what the hell hes gotten himself into.
-
-
They end up not going to a cafe because theyre being attacked by some kind
of violent flash mob - one that sends Harry spiraling into near hysterics and
they hadnt even seen Louis properly, just recognized the car and there were
people banging up against the windows and Harry kind of closes up inside
of himself, because really, what other reaction was he supposed to have.
Louis appears embarrassed when Harry has the guts to look over at him.
Harry feels uncomfortable on the shiny leather, his elbow nearly hitting the
mini-bar and knocking all the tiny, expensive alcohol over - but Louis looks
at home in it. Hes slouched, and hes got two different phones - very nice
phones - sitting precariously on each of his legs.
Sorry, he apologized, though Harrys pretty sure he didnt really want to
be mauled like a piece of meat. Theyre just happy were home. Good thing
they didnt see you, though.
Me? Harry chokes out, looking incredulous.
Louis chuckles. Yeah. Its a bit - overwhelming. Anyway, want to come back
to my hotel?
Harrys not given enough time to consider what going back to the hotel
means, so he just nods and tries not to flinch when a fourteen year old girl
slams her entire body up against his tinted window.
-
Louis hotel is ritzy and glamorous and Harry should probably expect as
much. Hes never been anywhere quite like it, though, and he is reminded of
his social standing as he takes in the marble statues, the glittering, beautiful
staircases, the people milling around in business suits and high heels. In in
his red converse and sweatshirt, he feels more than out of place.
My suite is this way. We can order room service and Ive got like, six
hundred channels, Louis blabs, tugging Harrys wrist as soon as they reach
his floor.
Inside his hotel room, which Louis double locks, both beds are mussed up
and there is a suitcase full of clothes that has seemed to explode all over one
corner of the room. Harry isnt sure if what do except stand there - and he
feels exactly how he used to when he was the only kid at the sleepover that
had to be invited so he wouldnt be left out and he doesnt know where to sit
-
Louis sits on the edge of his bed and starts pressing a bunch of numbers on
his hotel telephone. Harry, what do you want to eat? He looks over,
cradling the phone between his chin and his shoulder.
Harry feels even more awkward, but he is hungry, so. Um, whatever.
Surprise me, he finishes lamely, sitting gingerly at the end of the bed next
to Louis and looking around at all the shoes scattered throughout. Some of
them still have tags on them. And one of those price tags has a comma on
them, holy shit.
Alright, Louis clicks the receiver back in its cradle. Alright. Well, sorry
were stuck up here. Thought all that madness would die down and
whatnot.
Harry shrugs, isnt sure what to say. Sokay. I guess. So.
Tell me about yourself, Harry, Louis blinks flirtatiously, throwing himself
back on the bedspread and smiling goofily. I expect to know everything
about you before the chicken cutlets arrive.
So Harry takes a deep breath.
-
It turns out to be nice, because Louis is nice, and Harry vaguely looks down
at his hands and wonders if this is a one time thing. He really hopes it isnt.
Its nearly eleven and theyre still talking, and Harry is kind of scared by
how much they click, really. The banter is easy, effortless, and Harry finds
himself laughing openly now, not so much behind his hand. Louis is
probably the laziest person hes ever met, curling up under his bed sheets as
he listened to Harry and told stories of his own. He even ate his dinner in
bed, but he paid little attention to anything else but Harry. And Harry found
himself liking that, probably too much.
Want to watch a movie? Louis asks. Its proper date conduct, I suppose.
Oh, is a date? Harry grins, stretching out beside Louis, though there was
considerable distance between them.
Well, yes, seeing as I paid for your dinner and everything, Louis scoffs.
I could have paid, you know. I could have taken you out, Harry exclaims,
because Louis hadnt even given him the option to pay.
Louis flaps his hand wildly to dismiss Harry. I think thats hardly fair,
given my fans nearly scared you to death earlier. Thought you might have
shit yourself, from the looks of it.
Oh my god, I did not shit myself. Harry can feel himself blushing again.
Louis chuckles into the crook of his elbow. I didnt, Harry protests
weakly. It was just scary, and theyre so loud.
That they are. Louis nods. Ill let you pick the movie, how about. Make it
up to you.
-
Harry ends up settling on Casablanca because its one of his favorites from
when he was a little kid and his mother would watch it nearly on repeat
every summer. He can feel his eyes getting heavy, seeing as he has been up
since six that morning - but he refuses to let his eyes close.
Louis had gravitated much, much closer through the film, and his body heat
radiates through their clothes in a pleasant sort of way. And even though its
dark and he might be able to get away with it, he doesnt look over at Louis,
not once, even though he can hear his laugh in his ear and can feel him,
expensive and famous and so, so out of Harrys league.
He ends up falling asleep.
-
Hes shaken awake some hours later. The movie is off, and Louis is
alarmingly close to his face. Harry nearly headbutts him in surprise.
We must have fallen asleep, Louis explains, and Harry is too tired to say,
well, obviously. Just stay here, tonight. Ill have someone take you home
tomorrow,
He doesnt give Harry much of an option, so Harry doesnt waste his energy
speaking. Hes learned this pretty quickly about Louis and realizes that
maybe he isnt used to having people say no to him - perhaps hes always
used to getting his way. Harry snuggles back into the warmth, and his jeans
are uncomfortable but he ignores it - too scared and too sleep hazy to take
them off. Louis rolls closer to him, the top of his head right next to Harrys
chin. He smells so nice.
-
The next morning, a burly looking guy takes Harry and shows him out to a
car. Louis is nowhere to be seen. The guy looks friendly, Harry supposes - if
it werent for the scowl and the giant muscles tucked neatly underneath his
t-shirt. Harry stumbles out of the hotel, tennis shoes untied and hair
sticking up in every direction. His eyes hurt.
Another black car, far bigger than one would think need be, directing Harry
outside from the back of the hotel. He blinked, sleep eyed and told them his
address blearily. They dropped him off in front of his university, and Harry
stands on the pavement as they pull away, and thinks, well, that was that.
-
Harry works at the bookstore, goes to class. There are hardly ever any
customers, much to the owners dismay. Every time the little bell dings
Harry finds himself looking up, terribly hopeful, only to sink back when he
realizes its not Louis. A twisted, cruel part of him reminds his brain that it
will probably never be Louis, either. Because surely he would have come by,
again. Or called, or something.
Its bordering on unhealthy, how much Harry thinks about Louis, and hes
never - hes not that type of person, really, to obsess over anything. Hes
always just kind of floated from place to place without much of a care, and
now it feels like hes been rooted on the spot. The girls in his dorm talk
about One Direction and Harry finds himself listening in, holding back
questions as not to raise suspicion.
And he downloads all their music, and most of it is mush, anyway, but there
are a few really great songs - really great - and Harry just kind of withers
when he hears Louis sings. He kind of gets why girls go crazy for musicians,
now. He kind of gets why One Direction is such a commodity, really. Theyre
just out of reach, and that is tantalizing.
He thinks about that night a lot. Some of the memories are burned into his
brain - like Louis snuggling right up next to him, or the way Louis had
sounded, still half-asleep, when he orders Harry to stay. Some of memories,
however, crop up during his day when hes finally convinced himself hes
just fine, like the shoes lying on Louis floor - so many brand new pairs,
never worn. Or the way both beds were slept in, or how tanned Louis skin
was compared to his last visit to the bookstore.
By the time hes going to sleep every night, hes convinced himself that Louis
is not someone to dwell on. That Harry has a life to get on with. That hes so
not obviously smitten with Louis Tomlinson.
But Harry knows, in the morning, hell be starting all over again.
-
Its not an abnormal August night by any means, except for it is, because
Harrys phone is buzzing and Louis voice is on the other end.
Hey, Harry, Louis voice sounds funny over the phone, different. Deeper,
a little.
Um. Harry squeaks, pulls his phone away from his ear for a second and
looking at it before pushing back against his ear again, Louis?
Yeah, remember me? Louis chuckles, and Harry wants to say how could I
not, but he doesnt, because that might be weird. Anyway, are you at your
dormitory?
Yeah. Yes, I am, he says and before hes even given himself to think about
what kind of question that was, Louis was already talking about.
- so buzz me on up, then. Hurry, I dont want anyone to see me, to be
honest. Louis finishes and Harry is happy his roommate has left for the
weekend because his mouth his hanging about a foot from the floor. Before
he can even slip on his shoes hes tripping down his dormitory - because
how is this even real - until theres only a glass door between Harry and
Louis.
Louis raises his eyebrows at him, slipping his phone back into his pocket.
Harry finds hes still holding his up to his ear and looks at it with
bewilderment for a second, before realizing that Louis is still outside. He
nearly drops his phone trying to put it in his pocket, before pushing open
the door and letting Louis sneak inside.
Oh, dorm life. Tell me, is it just like in the movies? Louis laughs, but it
sounds off. Harry would know, seeing as hes spent the better part
memorizing the way Louis laugh had sounded that night, and bloody hell,
hes such an idiot.
I dont know. I dont think so, at least. Harry shrugs. Up this way.
-
Harry wishes he had cleaned his room, but alas, he didnt. He was going to watch reruns
of The Office and eat ice cream his roommate had left in their fridge straight out of the
carton, but now he has Louis Tomlinson standing in the middle of his room, looking
around at the messy twin bed and the clothes on the floor. Harry finds it unnerving that
a girl just next door has a poster of his face plastered on her wall.
So, um. How did you know I go to school here? Harry finds this the most logical thing
to ask first.
Wasnt hard to whittle the answer out of my driver who drove you here. Louis shrugs,
and he doesnt apologize, doesnt say, sorry for not calling, sorry for not saying
goodbye, sorry for being good looking and aloof. Instead he sits down and spreads out
like its his own bed.
Oh. Well, what can I do for you? Harry sits on the edge of his bed, looking down at
Louis and rings his hands together.
Louis laughs, and the Christmas lights hanging around Harrys window make his face
glow attractively. Were not at your bookstore, Harry. You dont have to assist me.
Harry colors, shakes his head. Right. I just thought there might be a reason why youd
want to see me.
Louis shrugs, looks away. Whatever Harry said, there had been a tick in there
somewhere, and Louis smile had disappeared, quick like lightening. I just...I just like
the fact that you dont treat me special, I guess, Louis says finally. No screaming. No
pictures. Or whatever else.
Harry smiles. Shrugs. Youre arent so special.
Louis sits up, looking at Harry like hes gone mad. Bollocks. Ask anyone in a three mile
radius that Im special.
But yet youre here with me, Harry squints, a person you once went on a date with.
And I bet it was the best date of your entire existence, wasnt it? Louis looks haughty,
but he smiles, leaning back on his elbows and Harry immediately wants to say yes.
He doesnt, however. No, it wasnt. You are so full of yourself, how does your head not
fall over because there is no way your body can support all of that -
Rude! Louis interrupts, swatting at Harry. Harry finds himself giggling - giggling,
catching Louis wrist and pushing him away. Louis pokes his ribs and Harry nearly falls
over, twitching with laughter, until hes pink in the face and breathless.
Okay, okay, stop, he protests, but Louis just keeps on, and he literally might explode if
he doesnt stop - For the love of christ - Louis -
Louis suddenly stops, and Harry breathes deeply, nearly choking on the air and then he
looks up Louis from between his eyelashes. But Louis isnt looking at him - hes fixated
somewhere south and thats when Harry realizes it, oh shit. He rolls over onto his
stomach and wants to die a little.
So, Louis clears his throat. That was a boner.
Sorry. Okay, Im sorry. I wasnt - that was. Oh god. Fuck, Harry rambles, and his face is
so terribly warm it feels sunburnt.
Louis doesnt leave like Harry expects him to. Louis doesnt brush over it, either, act like
it didnt happen. They dont settle down and watch a movie and pretend theyre just
forming a very strange friendship like Harry had thought before. Louis doesnt say
something like, its okay, happens to everyone. And he doesnt say, wow, are you gay or
what because that was -
He doesnt do anything of those things. Instead, he turns Harry over, looming over him,
and hes squinting, slightly. Like he cant figure Harry out and Harry wants to say
welcome to my life, because nothing about Louis makes sense.
Harry cant find the power in him to say anything either. He waits for Louis to do
something. Touch him, maybe, and the immediate want that sparks in his body is nearly
overwhelming. Louiss body heat is almost intoxicating.
Louis slopes off the bed and onto his knees, finding Harrys crew socks and pulling them
off. His fingers work up the legs of Harrys denim, smoothing the creases, and Harry is
frozen, stuck wondering when the moment had become so heavy with intimacy. Louis
presses his fingers to the button of Harrys jeans, and Harry lifts his hips so they slip off
rather easily.
Louis - Harry starts, nearly choking on his own spit as he attempts to lean up on his
elbows. Louis silences him with a look, fierce and straightforward as he leans his hand
flat against Harrys chest, pushes him down.
You want this, right? Louis asks. Hes between Harrys spread legs now, Harrys bum
just off the lip of his bed and held up by Louis cupped palms. He doesnt look unsure,
just calm, gazing at him with an intense look that Louis seems to think is normal. Harry
is so turned on its rather embarrassing, because hes eighteen and in university, for
Christ's sakes, and hes no sexual gallivant but hes no virgin either, and well. Well.
Harry just nods, and then Louis hand is palming at his dick through his underwear and
Harrys hips surge up to their own accord. Louis touch is spurned on by this, and Harry
nearly yelps when Louis teeth come into contact with the skin thats canvassed tight
over his hip bone, body skinny from a diet of pot noodles and box cereal. Louis looks up
at him with narrowed eyes and smirks.
Harry kind of wants to wipe that look right off his face, but on second thought he
doesnt, because Louis fingers are so talented and maybe hes a lot more gay than Harry
originally thought - because no one does these sort of things without any kind of
experience beforehand - and well. Harry knew he liked boys, but hed never been with
one, - and this was different. This was scary. He didnt know about this.
His anxiety crawls up his throat when Louis starts on his t-shirt, and then his boxers
because woah, he isnt sure about this. What if - what if hes bad at it? Or like - it hurt or
something - Wait. Wait, um. Ive never done this before.
Youve never gotten naked with someone before? Louis laughs disbelievingly. Youre a
bit behind then, mate.
Harry shakes his head hurriedly, his hair hitting him in the face. No, like, sex. With a
boy.
Sex on the first date? Harry, what kind of boy do you think I am?
-
continue
-
Redamancy [2/3]
Harry blushes and is thankful its nearly dark in his room because he does not need to be
having this talk with Louis Tomlinson in his dorm with nearly fifty people in a ten foot
vicinity of them. So instead he says, Um, if were following the same rules as last time,
then this is our second date.
Louis scoffs. Hardly. You havent fed me and we havent had some activity.
Id call this an activity, Harry protests. Cmon, Im taking you out to eat first. Cmon.
Um, Louis points out. Youre kind of naked.
Hes not. Harry wants to point out that hes totally still wearing his pants, but it seems
fruitless at this point. Harry pulls his jeans up and hopes his dick gets the idea that hes
not getting laid right now. He shrugs into a sweater and his red tennies and pulls Louis
by his hand out his dorm, keys and wallet in hand.
-
They end up going to a McDonalds since its the only thing open at two in
the morning and its honestly the only thing Harry can afford. He slaps
Louis credit card away and pulls out the last few notes he has left until pay
period next week, but whatever.
They eat while walking home, Harry trying to fit three or four fries in his
mouth at a time, screw decorum or manners, because its fast food anyway,
and Louis doesnt seem to be doing much better.
I havent done this since before X-Factor, Louis comments, tangling their
fingers together as they round the corner back to Harrys dorm.
What, walk around eating fast food? Harry asks, because its basically
what he does every summer since he turned thirteen. Louis nods, looks
around at the empty neighborhoods. Its peaceful, and the air is warm, and
Louis fingers are slippering from the grease in Harrys hand. It is nice,
Harry supposes after a few seconds.
They end up kissing underneath a broken street lamp, Louis twirling and
dancing along the sidewalks as Harry belts out a terrible rendition of
Robyns Dancing On My Own. Louis tastes like ketchup and Harrys
probably not much better, but its their first kiss and thats what matters.
-
So why did you decide to call me, of all people? Harry muses, pressing his
mouth into Louis shoulder. Its nearly morning, the light turning lighter in
a spectrum at gray. Itll be hours before the sun peeks through. Louis is
running his fingers up and down his own bare stomach. Harrys pale in
comparison to his beautifully tanned skin. Its almost too perfect, to be
honest.
Louis shrugs, rolling over and propping himself up on his elbow, staring
down at Harry. He has a bite mark blooming on his shoulder, courtesy of
Harry from earlier. I dunno. We were at this opening and the most
mundane questions were being asked and people were just, I dunno. I
wanted to be around someone who doesnt ask questions and stare me, I
guess.
I can stare at you if you want, Harry suggests, and his eyes go wide as they
loom up at Louis. Louis makes a disgusting face and pushes him onto his
back, lumbering on top of Harrys body. Hes starting to smell less like his
expensive cologne and more like Harrys cheap bedsheets.
You are so creepy looking, Louis says affectionately, brushing Harrys
hair from his head, and Harry can feel a dazed smile blossom on his face.
Idiot, he thinks to himself. You are such an overly romantic idiot.
Not nearly as creepy as you. Showing up at my dorm like that. What if I had
been out partying with my fellow classmates, hmm? What would you have
done then?
Louis laughs, and the sound is low in his chest. His knees bracket the
outsides of Harrys thighs, warm against his creamy skin. Sorry if you had
plans.
Harry shrugs. Nah. Was going to re-watch episodes of the Office.
Thrilling, Louis drawls.
They end up watching The Office all morning anyway, drinking lukewarm
coffee and eating whatever Harrys roommate left in the fridge, mainly
some Poptarts and a few bananas each. They dont get dressed, still
wrapped up in Harrys blankets, balancing the laptop on their knees. Louis
hair slowly loses its perfect shape, brushing over his forehead and Harry
has to resist running his hands through it every few seconds. Even though
its getting light out and people are starting to mill around, and he wouldnt
have dared last time, he sneaks a glance every few moments when Louis
laughs. A few times he catches Louis looking back.
-
-
Its sad, but he expects Louis not to talk to him again, until maybe
September. But Louis surprises him. Harrys phone buzzes only a week
later.
I was in class, Harry mutters when he calls him back, looking around as
he crosses the quad, as if people would know he was talking to Louis
Tomlinson. Dont you text?
He can almost hear Louis roll his eyes. Texting is a waste of my time. Much
easier to just talk.
Alright, Harry says. So anyway, hey.
Hi, hello, hey, Harry, Louis babbles on. What are you doing this
weekend?
Probably getting sextiled by my roommate and half-assing homework,
Harry thinks ruefully, but he doesnt say that. Um, nothing important,
why?
Want to come to Paris with me?
What? Louis - you cant do that - Harry sputters, except then he realizes
that actually, yeah, someone like Louis can come whisk someone like Harry
away to a romantic wonderland in France for a weekend, just because.
Harry clenches his jaw shut, in jealousy, but also in nerves, because its a
little overwhelming still to be in Louis presence, especially when hes not in
his own element.
Course I can. The boys and I have some time off, and I wanna go. So how
bout it, babes?
Babes. What even. That - that sounds good - er, what should I - ?
Just pack a bag of summer clothes and my driver will pick you up Friday.
-
Harry expects Louis to be inside the tinted black SUV when he crawls
inside, smiling nervously at the driver, but hes not there. Hes mysteriously
gone from the airport, where Harry nervously asks if a Paul Higgins has
reserved a ticket for him, like Louis had said to do. The flight attendant had
looked it up and passed it on to him, smiling sweetly. Harry sat in the
terminal, feeling slightly like he wanted to puke.
The sun is hot and it smells French and wealthy when hes escorted off the
plane into another car and then to a hotel. Hes handled by more men hes
never seen before, silent except for a gruff affirmation that he is in fact
Harry Styles. Harry sits in the back, knees tucked together on the shiny
letter, playing with the lip of his t-shirt. Hes been chewing on his lip so
much through the whole trip its bruised and swollen.
Theres no one in his hotel room, either, and Harry sits his bag down on his
bed and thinks, okay, what the hell. He agreed to spend a couple days in
Paris with Louis, not with all of Louis stoic personnel, and if he wanted to
be by himself he could have stayed at his university and milled around.
Maybe he even would have gone to one of those stupid parties, even. Maybe
he would have even hooked up with a girl, or something.
Hes unusually tired, probably from nerves. Harry strips of his jeans, and
crawls underneath the blankets of the double bed closest to the balcony. Its
air conditioned and smells too clean in the hotel room. He falls asleep
minutes later, but not before distinctly thinking, Im in paradise all alone.
-
Hes awoken by a rustling of blankets and a pair of hands running down his
side underneath the sheets. Harry shuffles, and hes awake now even
though he refuses to open his eyes. Theyre nearly glued shut from sleep and
his hair is all over his face, he can feel it.
Mmm, he mutters drowsily.
Louis chuckles and drags Harry over to the cool side of the bed, right up
against Louis body. He smells like coconut lotion, he smells foreign, a
million miles away. Harry rubs his nose into the cotton of Louis shirt, his
hands grappling lazily at the muscles in his lower back.
Thought you were gonna travel with me, Harry says into Louis
collarbone. Louis chuckles, petting Harrys curls away from his forehead.
Had some last minute business to wrap up with the lads, so I had you sent
here earlier. Thought youd explore. Clearly, I was wrong.
I had a headache from flying, which was partly true. Harry wipes his
mouth with the back of his hand and cranes his neck to kiss at Louis. He
finds his lips on the second try, licking a swipe for entrance. Louiss hand
reaches down and curls around the back of Harrys head, pinching his neck
slightly and holding him there.
Harry spreads himself out on the sheets, moving his arms and legs across
the soft silk like he is making a snow angel. Louis crawls over him, pushing
the comforters to the floor and aligning himself between Harrys legs, his
thumbs pressing down on Harrys hips. Harry sort of misses when Louis
smelt more like his dorm room.
Louis kisses harder, more demanding and Harry gives into it. He lets Louis
kiss him and push him in every which way, still sleepy, and when Louis
hands pin Harrys wrists above his head, Harr doesnt complain. Hes
starting to learn the curves and twists of Louis, of his body. Hes starting to
understand that Louis, when in all seriousness, demands power.
They dont end up having sex. Harrys not sure hes ready for that, really,
because while its okay that Louis a boy (hes still unsure whether hes okay
that its Louis Tomlinson, but, whatever) but hes not quite eager to really
delve into all that gay sex and whatnot, not yet.
And Louis gets his hesitancy, he does. Harry starting to recognize that Louis
likes to push at Harry sometimes, just little comments or a remark, waiting
for Harrys reaction. See if Harry will sell him to some newspaper, which
honestly is such a strange concept to him - he doesnt even know how he
would even orchestrate that or what he would say, besides having no actual
reason to do that. Tabloids are still strange to him, even before he met
Louis.
Harry forgets constantly that people want to know these kinds of strange,
personal quirks of Louis, all the time. Harry takes for granted that these
little tidbits of Louis, like his footprints left all over Harrys life, arent open
to the public. Hes starting to realize that - whatever this is between them -
its so exclusive. Secretive. And it makes Harry on edge, it really does,
because Louis is an enigma even when hes been completely honest.
-
They end up eating room service food, which is quite good and expensive
enough that they dont leave prices on the menus, something Harry seems
guilty about but Louis doesnt even flinch at when he orders for them.
Someone had ticked off paparazzi about Louis being in Paris, so there is a
swarm of photographers and a few fans sitting by the entrance of the hotel.
Louis looks down from his room with a discontent look on his face. They
watch Legally Blonde in French, trying to translate it and do so terribly,
Louis giggling when Harry trips over his words. They take a shower
together, and so at least now, Harry thinks, they smell the same.
Underneath the hot pressure of the water, Harry kneels down gently on the
tile floor and tries his hand (no pun intended, he swears) at a blow job. He
must not do too badly, seeing as Louis clutches at the tile walls and knocked
all the soaps off the tiny shelf when he comes.
Its well into the night now, and the paps and fans have disappeared,
disheartened that they didnt get a glimpse of Louis. Finally, Louis
announces, they can go out and explore.
Harry thinks its interesting, rather because Louis is this very rich, very
famous international pop star and Harrys just a university student, one of
millions around the world, but Louis has restrictions in his life Harrys
never even considered. If Louis werent Louis Tomlinson of One Direction,
they could have spent the whole day outside, playing in the sun and
gallivanting around town, eating ice cream and going to the shops. They
could have climbed the Eiffel tower, look at all the expensive soaps and bath
salts. Maybe even hold hands, or something.
Instead, they have holed themselves up in a hotel in a beautiful city, and
Harry has a feeling that had Louis been with his bandmates, they would
have done all these things and said fuck all to the paps. But Louis seems
intent on keeping Harry a secret, hidden away, and Harrys not sure if he
distrusts that or appreciates it.
Its late. Later than late. There are a few late night restaurants still open,
and Louis pulls Harrys hood up, ties the drawstrings tight to protect his
curls. Louis wearing a similar one. No one bothers them, but Louis still
gives Harry a short pep talk, of sorts.
If anyone recognizes me, were just old friends. If that happens, we cant,
you know. Be all lovey around each other. Apparently Im straight or
something, he rolls his eyes and leads Harry away from the glow of bars
and the people tinkering up around them.
They walk along the streets until just the promenade lights their way. The
half-moon is lovely as it reflects off architecture. Louis tucks his hand into
Harrys sweatshirt pocket, keeping him close. Their hips knock into each
other, clinking like ceramic glass.
So, you having a nice time? Louis asks. Its starting to turn cold. Its nearly
three in the morning.
Harry nods, but hes not as tired as he should be. Something about being
with Louis makes him feel strangely awake. Thanks for taking me here.
Wanted to spend some time with you. I really like you, Harry.
Harrys heart sort of stutters in his chest for a second. Because Louis likes
him. And its obvious since he took him on a trip and the kissing and
everything - but this means something to Harry, this admission. Up until
now, it seemed like Louis was just getting into some kicks and Harry was
too starstruck to really object.
I. I like you too, Louis. Like, a lot.
You like like me? Louis prods, a laugh in his voice. Harry rolls his eyes,
looking up at Louis and gives him a good glare, even if he is only half-
serious.
Are we in grade school? Yes, I like like you, you daft.
Glad were on the same page, because Id like to do terrible, terrible things
to you, Harry, Louis whispers, pressing his lips to Harrys forehead.
Harrys gut squirms, in equal parts excitement and nervousness, because
hes pretty sure what that entails. He smiles, grips Louis hand tighter and
Louis turns them around then, walking back through the streets.
-
Harry was pretty sure Louis had said he liked him, pretty sure thats what
he meant, but now hes not so confident because its been two weeks and no
Louis. Not a drop-in, a call, not even a text, though he wasnt really
expecting that anyway.
Hes starting to get angry, even though his brain tells him stoutly not to.
Because its not like Louis and him were dating, he reminds himself daily,
and his mood turns sour when his mind ever turns to the topic of Louis,
which, unfortunately, is a lot.
Maybe all Harry was to Louis was a good couple of romps in the bed, some
quality time spent with someone who didnt openly ogle him, and that was
that. And Harry feels like a fucking loser for being so caught up in all of it,
the giddy feeling of finding someone who entertained him, challenged him a
little, when obviously Louis didnt give two shits from Tuesday about him.
Hes starting to do that stupid, terrible unrequited love bullshit where he
thinks of how he could have screwed it up, thinks back to every little
inconsequential thing he ever said to Louis, wonders how he could have
made Louis think hes no longer not attractive. Hes starting to get a
complex, damnit, and its not fair.
Its not fair. Louis is probably off somewhere signing someones boobs and
making another million, while Harry is drooling in boredom at that
bookstore and drowning in his student loan debt.
Get over it, Styles, Harry tells himself for the thirty-second time that night.
Its Friday, after all, he has a red cup in his hand, and hes a house party
near his University with most of his fellow peers. He should be enjoying
himself, but instead hes just sad and a little drunk, his thumb over Louis
number in his phone.
He doesnt end up calling Louis, thank the gods. Instead he fumbles around
with some girl from his Algebra course in some dark corner of the house.
She tastes like cheap vodka and chocolate and Harry squeezes his eyes shut,
tries to ignore the way her hips rock up against his because hes pretty sure
shes at least ten steps ahead of him, but whatever. He goes with it. Tries not
to think of Louis.
And then, yeah, of course Louis has got to pop in his head the minute he gets
her hands under her skirt, and he pushes himself off of her like hes been
burned, wiping his hand absently on his shirt. Shes still leaning against the
wall, panting and grinning.
Got to go, He mutters, feeling drunk and completely out of his element.
She shimmies in a peculiar way, and Harry is horrified that she might be
trying to finish her off in front of him, until she produces a pair of lacy pink
underwear, wrapping them around his wrist.
Theyve got my number on the tag, She winks, and Harry is still too
flabbergasted that hes got a pair of some girls knickers on his arm that he
doesnt have time to ever respond to that. See you later, Harry, She says
before slinking off. He blinks, realizes he doesnt even really know her
name, but she knows his, and.
He walks home, underwear still around his wrist. For some reason he feels
cruel if he were to just leave them there, especially if she found them later,
even though she might not even care. Shes probably passed out her
underwear before. The thought of that kind of disturbs Harry.
His eyes are heavy with exhaustion and hes still sort of drunk. His lips are
kissed red and he doesnt even bothering taking off his most of his clothes
before falling straight onto his bed.
-
Theres a large thump when he wakes up, and his squints at the light. His head doesnt
hurt, which is a relief, but he feels like absolute shit. He looks up, squinting slightly, and
sees Louis, dressed rather nicely and clean, sitting on the end of his bed.
Howd you get in? Harry mumbles, licking at the sleep film on his teeth.
Good morning to you, too, love, Louis deadpans, and Harry sits up, quickly sitting the
pink underwear underneath his pillow before Louis sees it. Hed really rather not like to
explain that at the moment. Some student was on his way out and let me in. Told him I
was your uncle.
Really. And he believed such crock? Harry blinks.
Louis shrugs, looking contemplative. Reckon he wasnt really awake yet.
Ugh, Harry is not quiet about his contempt for his state of being this morning. Uck.
Im gonna go shower. Stay here.
Louis lies back on Harrys bedspread, kicking off his bright white Toms, not marred with
a speck of dirt. Harry gathers his toiletries and exits, tries not to make eye contact with
too many students milling the halls. One or two them clap him on the back for getting
with Jessica. So that was her name. Hes too tired to be worried what exactly she told
them, because hes pretty certain the truth its a lot less entertaining than what they
heard.
He showers quickly, pees, and brushes his teeth. He feels loads better. He hurries back
to his room, doesnt even bother with getting breakfast because Louis Tomlinson is still
in his room and goddamnit he better not still be drunk.
He lets himself back into his dorm quietly as he can. His roommate is absent from his
bed - probably over with his girlfriend again, something Harry is thankful for. Hed
rather not have anyone know, particularly, about Louis at this point. Seeing as Harry
doesnt even know about Louis either.
His heart sinks at a good meter when he finds Louis sitting rather stiffly on the edge of
his bed, twirling that pink pair of panties in his fingers. He looks up at Harry, and his
eyes narrow.
Whose are these?
Jessica, apparently, Harry shrugs, I dunno, really.
Well, you must know, seeing as they were in your bed.
But - wait. Are you mad? Harry sputters, and Louis jaw locks unpleasantly. Harry
shakes out his wet hair and crosses his arms against his chest. Oh my god, you are.
Youre totally pissed. What the hell, Louis?
Think I have a right here, Harry, seeing as youve got little tramps passing through here
leaving their shit about - Louis protests, standing up and motioning towards the door
as if that indicates anything at all.
You have a right? Are you kidding. Youre not. Youre seriously angry. Wow. Well,
Harry licks his lips, his cheeks on fire, Fuck you, Louis.
What -
You cant come in here and make me feel like shit after you disappear for weeks at a
time. Like, okay, I get that youre busy and you have a life and Im obviously not
important, but were not exclusive and were not a couple, so you cant come in here and
give me shit for a pair of underwear.
Louis pales considerably, and Harry clamps his mouth shut so he doesnt apologize.
Finally, Louis whispers, No one has ever talked to me like that.
Yeah, well, Im not used to feeling like Im just some back burner entertainment,
either.
Youre not. Youre not, Harry, its not like that. Louis says, tossing the underwear on
the ground and gently grasping Harrys elbows, cupping them with his palms. Louis
ducks his head around until he catches Harrys line of sight, and his gaze is serious, and
honestly, frightening in its intensity.
Whats it like then, Louis? Harry sighs, and he drops his head against Louis shoulder.
He smells different, always smells so different. A million miles away. Since Im already
embarrassing myself here. I just want to know what we are, okay? Just want to know.
His voice is muffled into Louis shirt and he dribbles on it slightly. He mashes his cheek
up against the wetness, closing his eyes tiredly. Louis rocks them slowly, kissing the top
of Harrys head, his curls, his cheeks. Harry feels his eyes close as Louis hands cover
most of his face, pulling closer. Feels his lips part by Louis tongue and lets him explore.
Louis presses him into the bed and crawls on top of him, kissing him with a hunger he
had previously reigned in before in respect of Harrys hesitancy. But no more. Harry
feels as if hes being nearly swallowed whole, the way Louis consumes, touches him. He
can feel his erection stirring, the blood pooling in his groin and he surges up, tugging
Louis closer to him and making grabby hands, pulling and pushing, kneading at Louis
skin. Louis is dominant, pressing him into the mattress, but Harry is going to make sure
he leaves a bruise.
Harrys clothes are shed and then Louis are too - brand new and still crisp from their
boxes, hes sure, lying in piles on the floor. Louis skin is nearly perfect - tanned without
any sun lines and free of blemishes. Harry has nicks and bruises, his knees are scabbing
over from when he fell down last night - and his body is flushing all over from Louis
neediness. He doesnt feel so beautiful, but the way Louis is looking at him - he might
just close his eyes and believe it.
The kissing is intense, until Harrys nearly bucking up into Louis fist, wrapped neatly
around his dick, and he thinks here we go until Louis whispers, Do you have any stuff?
in his ear, his breath coming out in a puff of hot heat against Harrys skin and before
Harry even thinks about what is about to happen, hes pointing to the bottom drawer of
his nightstand. Louis rips it open and scrambles back onto the bed. Harry squeezes his
eyes shut tightly against the strange, cool wetness that is spreading between his cheeks.
Relax, Louis soothes, and Harry thinks, yeah, I can do that, and tells himself to relax.
Tells himself this is okay, honestly. That hes ready.
Its painful, even though hes so close to his orgasm. Harry turns his head away from
Louis so he doesnt have to look at him, his legs finding their way around Louis waist
and cinching tightly, and hes so nervous hes not sure theyll ever unlock. Louis is soft,
gentle, everything Harry could ever ask for a lover - hell, he wishes his first time with a
girl had been like this - but theres this sinking in Harrys stomach that wont go away, a
blush still thriving in his cheeks that wont quite fade.
Louis finishes Harry first, of course he does, Harrys neck nearly bending all the way
back because hes never came so hard in his life. His vision whites out for a second, and
his spine tingles in the most unsettling way. His breath is labored when Louis comes a
second later, biting at Harrys collarbone and pulling out.
Harry feels different and sore and not at all like he wants to. He doesnt want Louis to
see him like this, so when Louis turns away to find his underwear and discard the
condom, Harry crawls underneath his blankets and pulls them up to his chin and bites
his lip, hard. He hopes he draws blood, itd be satisfactory at this point. Louis crawls
back to him, his stomach rippling pleasantly, a shadow of muscles taut underneath his
skin.
Louis crawls in with Harry and his skin is so much warmer than Harry remembers,
almost smothering when their thighs brush together. Theres a throbbing deep within
him, and Harry tries not to squirm when Louis kisses his temple. Its so tender. Like
theyve had decades to practice this kind of intimacy.
He feels a swell of panic in his throat, Dont leave me like that again, he pleads, and he
hates how fucking pathetic he sounds. Maybe he should just be back-burner
entertainment, because hes obviously failing at everything else here.
Louis sighs sweetly, I wont. I promise, I wont, Harry.
Louis falls asleep after that, cupping Harrys hip, but Harry isnt able to sleep for a very
long time.
-
continue
-
Redamancy [3/3]
-
Harry must have fallen back to sleep though, because it gave Louis the
opportunity to leave. He wakes to an empty bed and nearly rolls back over,
thinks, fuck it all and goes to sleep.
Hes got a voicemail, however, and hes puzzled that its from Louis because
he thought that this was another one of Louis brilliant vanishing acts. He
presses play, and listens.
Harry, love, good morning whenever you get this. Didnt want to wake
you but management called. Ill call you later for a later lunch.
So theres that, really. Maybe Harry should have had sex with him the first
time they met so Louis wouldnt treat him like he did - reappearing
whenever he wasnt touring or on vacation or whatever else super stars did -
only showing up when he was bored, and there was no one else to play with.
Harry counts the bruises on his hips, his stomach, the ones Louis left
around his biceps. Some are large, shaped like Louis hands, other tiny
spots, like fingerprints. Harry aches more than a few bruises would warrant
but he doesnt want to think about why. Not yet.
-
Louis sends a car to pick Harry up after his shift and Harry sits on the
leather alone, playing with his fingers. He feels tired, nearly too tired to see
Louis. Hes not sure he can muster a smile at the moment, and he sure as
hell isnt awake enough to fake one.
Louis greets Harry outside the elevator when Harry reaches his floor. Hes
wearing flannel pajamas and his thumb presses against the corner of
Harrys mouth. His smile is too intimate, and Harry looks down. He can feel
a blush break out along the tops of his cheeks, but he takes Louis hand
anyway and they walk down to his room, their fingers intertwining and
separating in tandem.
Louis pulls Harry down next to him on his bed, kicking the covers back and
settling his legs on top of Harrys knees. Harry runs his thumb over Louis
hand absently, staring at the ceiling.
What are you thinking about? Louis says, balancing his chin on Harrys
shoulder.
You, Harry says honestly. Louis smiles, presses his lips chastly against
Harrys neck.
And its nice, alright, being with Louis like this. This is what he wanted, after
all, and now hes got it: Louis. Hes got Louis paying all of his attention on
him, Louis left him a message before he left, hes spending time with Harry
when its not the wee hours of the morning and - and this is nice. Its
unsettling, how intimate, how close Louis is to him now, how quickly this
has all developed. Harry figures thats how Louis operates regularly,
however, fast paced and self-centered, but this is what you wanted, right.
Youve got him now.
This is what Harry wanted. He just wishes he didnt feel like he gave
something up in return.
-
Harry stays over. Louis treats him to breakfast and buys him a huge box of
new clothes, something Harry was not expecting. Its all so nice, such
complete quality that Harrys never even been in the vicinity of before,
Topman underwear and Jack Wills jeans and a thin white t-shirt that
probably cost more than what Harry makes in a weeks worth of earnings at
the bookstore.
Louis actually looks sheepish as Harry runs his fingers over the clothes. I
know you liked simple. I just wanted you to look nice, think of me when you
wear them.
Louis, Harry nearly chokes, and a smile threatens to split his cheeks open,
Thank you.
He loves the clothes, he loves them so much and they fit so nicely in
comparison to his worn out, thrifted sweaters and his corduroys with the
holes in the knees, but in the back of his head he wonders if by accepting
these gifts if hes opening a door he doesnt want to.
-
My bandmates are dropping by. Im going to meet them in the hall. Louis
pauses, pocketing his phone. He tugs at Harrys collar, already moving the t-
shirt out of place. It feels brand new and too expensive on Harrys skin.
Louis smoothes down the shirt against the planes of his stomach. Want to
come?
Are you sure? Harry asks, and the thought of being in the presence of the
other three makes him nervous - he doesnt want to intrude on their band
rapor or whatever, and itll be obvious among them how different he is,
even dressed in Louis new clothes.
Louis rolls his eyes to show his indifference. Sure, why not?
-
He sees them before they see him. Theyve got this halo effect - some kind of
immaculate glow that famous people must give off, especially in groups, and
together theyre absolutely stunning. Louis glow has dimmed to Harry,
mostly because of all the time hes spent with him. Louis slinks right up to
them, Harry close on his trail, and Harry watches as Louis glides seamlessly
from his Louis to Louis Tomlinson of One Direction. He shines just as
bright.
Harry swallows nervously, standing behind Louis, peeking out to look at
them. Liam is tallest and the most broad, and Niall is laughing at something
on his phone, beautifully aloof. Zayn is looking around disinterestedly, and
the only word Harry can put to him is cool.
Liam is the first to notice him, and he waves, smiling in a decidedly kind
way, his lips quirking up a little.
Attention, Louis calls dramatically, and Harry hopes he isnt going to
introduce him because that is the last he wants - This is Harry. Harry, these
are the boys.
Er, hi, Harry nearly squeaks, stepping out of Louis shadow and clutching
his own arm.
Niall looks up from his phone and grins. His teeth are almost blindingly
white. Hey, so youre Harry. How goes it, man?
Goes - goes, well, Harry says lamely, and this cracks Niall up, his whole
face distorting in a fit of giggles. Louis grips at the inside of Harrys elbow,
smiling slightly, even though his eyes are fixed on the boys.
They end up going out to eat. Niall is quiet while hes eating, focused on his
meal and working his plate clockwise, and Zayn pays him nearly no mind,
which is strange seeing as hes sitting at the table with them but hes also
grateful. Louis talks to him privately, mostly sharing little tidbits of weird
information in Harrys ear, but Harrys still too anxious to really laugh at
anything. Liam is kind, his eyes sweeping over Harry and engaging him into
conversation. Harry appreciates Liam, he does, but he feels like a right idiot
when he talks to them.
Rounds of drinks start coming, and Harry pulls down one of Louis hands
and clenches it tightly in his lap as if to translate, Im not comfortable right
now. Hes starting to feel antsy but he stays put, tapping his leg underneath
the table and smiling briefly whenever the other boys interrupt into
laughter. Whether or not Louis can read Harrys body language is
unbeknownst to Harry, but he ignores it either way, instead pressing a tiny
shot of Tequila in Harrys other hand.
Harry stares at it, but takes his and lets the alcohol run down his throat.
Louis smirks at him, something akin to self-satisfaction in his smile and
maybe Louis did understand how nervous Harry was and just chose not to
address it. Harry steals another shot out of Louis hand and downs it,
laughter rings in his ears supplied by both Niall and Zayn.
-
Bleary eyed, Harry is tipsy, but he isnt drunk. Everything is looser, warmer,
and Louis arm is slung around his shoulders, slamming Harrys shoulder
into his rhythmically. Louis drank a lot more than Harry did, and he
stumbles a bit, leaning against the door as he unlocks and lets them in.
Harry barely has time to kick the door shut with his foot before Louis
attacking his mouth; his kisses are Tequila fueled and sloppy.
It feels nice, Louis touch, until it doesnt, becomes too needy for Harrys
liking, too insistent. As if on cue, his lower back gives a particular tingle and
the memory of the throbbing returns front and center in Harrys brain.
He rolls out from underneath Louis, breathing and lying against the pillows.
Blinks his hair out of his eyes and only has a second to realize that Louis
engulfing him in a kiss once again. His hands are convincing, softer than
they should be and clammy against Harrys skin. Harrys brand new jeans
slink off his legs, twist around his ankles until he kicks them off. Louis
fingers trace the outline of Harrys new boxers, smiling brightly and
smacking a kiss to Harrys cheek before trailing his mouth down his
stomach. Harrys milky thigh muscles grow taut when Louis breathes wetly
against his boxer, the heat spreading to the tips of his toes.
Hes better at blowjobs - far better that Harry figures hell ever be - and the
idea of Louis sucking someone else off gives him a flare of jealous. And
maybe hes got this all wrong. Maybe - maybe hes the possessive one, not
Louis. Maybe - Maybe Louis just wanted a fun tag a long and Harry made it
into so much more, and here he was. Trapped underneath Louis needy
hands and wishing he were anywhere but.
So Harry closes his eyes tightly and grips at the luxurious sheets as Louis
brings him closer and closer to his orgasm - tastes the alcohol on his mouth
when he bites his lip. Louis finishes Harry off with what seems like ease,
complete and relative ease, and fucking hell, does anything come hard for
him? Harry chokes back on his sob as Louis licks him nearly dry,
oversensitive and nearly seething.
Louis surges back up to kiss Harry and Harry lets himself be engulfed,
tasting himself on his tongue. He gives everything away to Louis, because
hes learned just how talented Louis is at taking, and thats probably what
he wanted in the first place, anyway.
-
Louis goes on tour, back to America for three weeks. He kisses Harry in his
hotel bathroom, brushing back Harrys curls from his forehead to touch
him there too. Harry feels marked, as he runs his fingers up his newly
acquired bruises, but he likes it in a way too. Louis showers him with gifts.
He accepts them all.
They fuck three more times - each time differently. Louis can be rough at
times, pushing Harry far past his boundaries - and Harry starting to like
erasing his lines in the sand, only to rewrite them later. He can also caress,
and Harry finds he likes this too, soft Louis, how he hums Harry random
songs throughout the day, his hand curling around his neck, possessive but
not snarling. Harry sinks into his touch, and yearns for it when its absent.
Louis rides with him back to his dorm and nearly gets Harry off through his
pants like theyre in bloody secondary school, but Harry thrusts up in his
palm anyway because public displays are always dangerous but they feel so
good, burning along in Harrys veins. Its the only time Harry ever sees
Louis blush, and thats enough for him to know that he feels the same
amount of excitement.
Louis drops him off at his dorm, kisses him goodbye and promises to call.
Harry believes him. (Dont get your hopes up, dont get your hopes up.)
-
The next day, its posted up all over the internet sometime before Harrys
even awake. Its his roommate who wakes up him, shoving his ipod under
his nose, and laughing, Dude, since when had you gone twinky? in a
rather mocking manner.
Harry has no idea what hes on about until he gets a good look at the
picture, staring at it because theres Louis, and theres him, wrapped up in a
tight embrace and theyre kissing, oh fucking hell, theyre kissing and
theres a picture of it. Harry nearly chokes on his own spittle before surging
up and nearly headbutting with his roommate, who laughs again.
Fuck off, Harry glares, throwing his covers back and finding his laptop
somewhere underneath his bed. He types in Louis Tomlinson in his search
bar, holds his breath, and watches in horror as the same picture fills nearly
the whole first page.
-
By mid afternoon, hes able to pinpoint that the picture was from their stay
in Paris a few months ago, when Harry was still blushing under Louis stare.
Theyre kissing near the steps of a small bakery, and they had sworn there
had been no one in sight - it had been three in the morning, after all, and
Harry doesnt know how this even fucking happened.
His facebook has been spammed with hundreds of comments, questions,
and rather personal questions about his sex life. He panics, unable to delete
them all and hes certainly not going to answer them, so he deletes his
facebook. His twitter, which he used only before to keep in touch with his
old mates back in Holmes Chapel, literally had thousands of followers over
night, most of them with names like 1dMAILK or mzhoran and
love_tommo, all girls, and there is a such a massive overflow of pure hate,
words hes never heard someone even say out loud to another human being,
much less written several times over.
Harry scrolls through the comments with a blank stare. His mind is numb
and his fingers ache from twisting them together. He deletes his twitter,
slouches back onto his bed. Louis hasnt called, and hes had to have gotten
the news by now, even with the time difference. And its like, Harry feels
alone all over again.
Only then does he have himself a good cry.
-
He cant leave his room. Many of the girls in his dorm have knocked on his
door - at first Harry thought, to support him - but instead theyre just
asking how Louis Tomlinson was in bed and Oh my god I didnt think he
was gay, wow. Harry locks his door, texts his roommate the fuck off for the
rest of the day, and buries himself underneath his quilts.
He gets a phone call late, which means its probably still early in America.
Its a restricted number on his caller ID, and he thinks, Louis, thank god.
Hello?
Its not Louis. Its Jess or John or Jake, one of the One Direction managers,
who speaks in a very calm but otherwise rather unfriendly voice.
Apparently, someone on their crew had leaked the story to the press, and a
picture was found to floating around the internet since forever ago, but
there had been no proof to it until recently. Naturally, Louis sexuality had
been of speculation for a long time, and it was going to be hard on him for a
while, and its best to lie low while he approaches his audiences in the right
way.
Harry nods and hums and agrees. Finally, he promises not to go to any
magazines, though he has no idea what the hell he would even say, really,
because its not like he wanted this either. Its only until Harrys hung up the
phone that he realizes that entire conversation was about Louis and his
issues, even though Harrys holed up inside his dorm room with hate mail
coming out of every orifice of the internet and no support. Hes got no
bandmates, no management, no body guards, and no publicists to help him.
Most importantly, Louis still hasnt called, and really, thats what stings
most of all.
-
He gets hounded by a small gaggle of paparazzi when he tries to ride his
bike to the bookstore, and they scare him so badly he nearly runs into a
parked car. He blushes furiously before speeding away, trying to ignore the
annoying clicking sound of their cameras and the embarrassment welling
wetly in his eyes.
-
On the fourth day, he calls Louis. It goes to voicemail. What the hell is your
problem, Harry hisses into the phone, I thought you said you werent
going to do this anymore. Thanks a lot, Louis.
The voicemail is bitter and angry but not nearly as angry as Harry truly
feels, trapped and alone and feeling the onslaught of public backlash that he
never asked for.
Its not just the being outed to the world and becoming some kind of famous
commodity overnight that really churns over in Harrys gut, though that
definitely adds to it: its the humiliation Harry feels that Louis cant even
return his fucking call. Harry wonders if he just doesnt care or if hes really
that stupid to think that this doesn't effect Harry too.
Thats the thing, with superstars, though, is that they dont get it. Louis, and
Niall and Liam and Zayn, too, theyve got a sturdy team of people watching
their every move and protecting them, praising them, primping them for
every little thing. Theyre cushioned by their so called hired help, publicists
that make one-track mind teenage boys into humanitarian and
philanthropists with just the twist of a few one words, managers who direct
them up more staircases of success, more limelight. Their image perfected,
their music edited to adhere to the current pop culture, and its like, it might
suck being told to do, and at the time Harry had sympathized Louis
frustration, but no more. Nothing sucks worse than feeling this alone.
Nothing.
-
Hes already signed up for the credit abroad program through his university
by the time Louis returns home. Harry knows this because one of the girls
from next door pounds on Harrys door and tells him so. Harrys phone
rings four times in the next hour and he studiously ignores them all. Its
been nearly four weeks since the pictures hit the internet, and Harry has
cultivated ways to avoid thinking about them and Louis all together. Its
easier, this way, even if he does miss his touch.
Those memories are tainted now. Tainted by the invasion of privacy, by the
leering eyes trying to speculate the ins and outs of their relationship, their
blatant lack of respect when they tell Harry just exactly what they think
about Louis and his relationship, like he cares.
-
One would think since Louis was so eager to leave Harry totally in the dust
that he would get the hint and leave Harry alone. Instead, he shows up at his
dorm at nearly two in the morning, hat pulled low over his ears. Hes
wearing glasses, which would be endearing as fuck except Harry still hates
him.
Hes thankful most of the dorm has either gone home for summer vacations
or is asleep, because it would create quite a shitstorm had they been around
to see Louis hurrying into Harrys dorm in the wee hours of the morning.
Harry, Louis breathes, and a slow, unsure, smile breaks out his face.
Howve you been?
Are you fucking kidding me? You couldnt have asked me that three weeks
ago, since you know, I was outed via the fucking internet?
To be fair, I was too, Louis points out, and Harry wants to strangle him.
Thats not the point, Louis. You told me werent going - going to ignore me
anymore and yet you still did, and I fucking needed you this time, didnt I.
Im sorry, Harry, Louis shrugs, looking halfway to apologetic and very
uncomfortable. I was told not to contact you until we made a statement.
Oh. Well, if you were told so, I guess its fine, Harry drawls sarcastically.
God, I just, I feel so fucking unimportant to you.
But you arent, Louis protests weakly. His voice sounds strangled, like he
has an idea already where this is going and he doesnt like it. I love you,
Harry.
The admission stills his heart, and Harrys not going to pretend like he
didnt nearly kiss Louis in that second, just that second - but a larger,
stronger part of him recoils at those words, because theyre not in the right
context and Harry wishes they could have been said with justice, especially
because he feels the exact same way.
Finally, Harry shakes his head and bites out, Thats not good enough,
Louis. Im sorry. I dont - cant do this with you anymore. Its too much,
Harry hates the way his voice breaks over the last word.
Louis strides over to him and grips at his arms, pinning him between his
hands and Harry thinks back to when he craved Louis touch so much it
made him nervous enough to puke. And now, and now. Louis eyes are wide
and in so much hurt that Harry doesnt know how to deal with it. He knows
right away hell never forget the way Louis is looking at him, nearly begging,
but he can find himself able to tear his eyes away.
No, Louis presses his fingers in Harrys skin, and it hurts, but. You love
me. Tell me you love me back, Harry, He growls, shakes Harry so swiftly
Harrys neck snaps back and forehead like a bobblehead. Tell me.
I love you, Harry whispers and steps out of Louis hold when his fingers
slacken; the admission seems to break Louis as much as it confirms exactly
what he wanted. But its not enough anymore. Im done.
Harry expects Louis to hit him, and he thinks maybe a small part of him
wants Louis to, because then Harry can hit back - but Louis surprises Harry
(once again, once again) and kisses him, his hands come up to cup his
cheeks. Louis pulls away, and Harry realizes that this may be the first time
hes ever looked so human. He looks broken, like the rest of them, all that
shine drained out of his body.
Alright, Louis nods, wiping his mouth. Alright.
-
Well always have Paris, Harry thinks ruefully, Louis hopeful voice echoes
inside of Harrys head for the rest of the plane ride - thinks of Louis,
standing in the terminal in his maroon sweater, bags under his eyes. Harry
wonders if hes already back home, empty handed. If hes with his posh
bandmates, or perhaps wallowing with a expensive bottle of liquor to keep
through the night. Harry shakes his head as if trying to shakes his thoughts
away. He doesn't need to be thinking about Louis any longer.
Louis always knew where to inflict the most hurt, and Harry still has
bruises, raw but invisible to the naked eye. Hes yet to heal, but hes going
to.
-
His phone has three voicemails by the end of his summer, and he doesnt
listen to any of them. He knows theyre all from Louis, and hes not sure hes
ready to open that door again.
Spending the summer in Spain has given Harry the time to forgive Louis, as
much as he can, because even when Louis had forced Harrys admission of
love, Harry hadnt been lying. He did love Louis, loved him more fiercely
than anyone hes ever known - but hed been consumed by so much anger
and pain that it hadnt mattered at the time.
Louis shouldnt have kept taking from him like that, because eventually,
Harry would have broke. He could feel the cracks already, before he left,
and knew he had been teetering too close to the brink for far too long.
-
Schools starts. He gets a single room this time, and picks up more hours at
the bookstore. He spends his time listening to his tiny portable and eating
biscuits, warily watching the dreaded browsers and drooling over his own
boredom. Sometimes he feels tired, slipping back into his old life, almost
like it takes constant effort to forget the whirlwind of months he had spent
with Louis.
Back in London, Louis reminds him of nearly everything. Every tinted black
SUV, pink pom-pom beanies, those One Direction posters plastered inside
music shops and Harry gets a flash of Louis behind his eyes. Sometimes hes
not his face, but his smell, thick and always different. Or his touch, too
smooth and then too rough and always keeping Harry guessing. These
memories are not always unpleasant, sometimes - sometimes Harry
welcomes them.
-
The sun is starting to peek out through the clouds, and September is nearly
coming to an end. Harry likes September. He mourns the loss of it.
The bell dings and Harry doesn turn around right away, but when he does,
he can feel the heat blossom in his cheek. Well, shit, he thinks, because after
all this time he thought he was past this whole embarrassing - flushing bit
Louis always evoked out him, but why is he even surprised. Louis stands for
a second, looking skittish and like he might just turn around and walk out
without saying a word.
Hello, Harry clears his throat.
Hey, Louis says softly, eyes downcast for a second. How was Spain?
Good, really good. I had a lot of time to think.
About?
Everything, Harry grunts again, thinks maybe hes coming down with
something because its getting awkward how many times he has to pause to
cough. Me. And you.
I called you. Louis says and he sounds so tired and unlike Louis in that
moment.
I know. I havent listen to the voicemails yet.
Good, Louis says, sighing in relief. Dont. Theyre shit anyway. I want to,
um, start over, Harry. Try us again.
Louis - Harry starts to cut in, but Louis shakes his head.
Im not going to fuck up before. Ive had three months to really think about
how much...how much I really fucking love you, alright? Because fuck
everything, honestly, if I cant be with you. Really.
Harry looks at Louis, really looks at him. Beneath his fame and his glamour
and the carefully placed armor thats been made for him, behind his flashy
exterior and that aloof quality that only celebrities seem to possess, Harry
really looks at him, just Louis, not Louis Tomlinson, one fourth of One
Direction. Just Louis.
And Louis, his Louis looks back. Harrys smile is lopsided and he shrugs,
Alright, then. Lets give it a go.
Excellent, Louis leans over the counter on his elbows and Harry bends
down to kiss him. Thinks fuck, yes, this is what Ive been missing.
So, Louis smacks his lips, looking around the empty bookstore with little
interest, You guys got any DVDs around here?

Redamancy (1/3) : Mentalistecbm Unevenfootsteps

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