Louis' eyelids flutter quickly, his mind finding its way back from sleep. A slight frown appears on his forehead once he acknowledges the headache from yesterday's alcohol usage and then he realises he is lying on Harry's naked body.
Yesterday's night rolls like a flow of picture slide on his mind quickly, remembering every word, every touch, every feeling. And he is scared to fully open his eyes and face the inevitable consequences.
What is making the man a little steady is a fact that Harry never moved away, he is still under him, still as naked as he fell asleep, still holding his skinny frame and stroking softly the small of his back. Harry is also awake.
How to approach this situation? How to act? What does it mean, now? What changes? Does anything even change? Louis wonders, but he is dreading to know the answers.
"I know you are awake," a deep deep voice suddenly speaks up.
The rich man not moving an inch, confusedly asks in a whisper, "How do you know?"
"Your heart beats faster. No offence, but move, please," Harry's hold disappears from Louis' back, big hands now pushing his body away by his waist.
The sentence hits the rich man's feelings right in the square, heart sinking deep down into his stomach and he wants to become a fucking vapour so he can just escape this horrendous feeling and awkward situation.
Harry wants to get rid of him, he wants him to go away.
"I'm sorry. Sorry," Louis sits up, trying not to look at the sinful curves of the man in front of him. His eyes travel anywhere just to avoid Harry's, until the younger man sits up as well, reaching all the way to Louis' cheek, cupping the soft skin and making Louis finally meet his gaze.
"What's wrong?"
"I'm sorry for yesterday, I couldn't control myself. It won't happen again," he spits out quickly, desperately. Right now, their fight from a few days ago seems like nothing compared to this. He has to cope with the fact they slept together.
"Well, I'm sorry that you are sorry. Because honestly, I am not sorry for what happened," Harry shrugs casually, not minding that both of them are still naked and dirty, everything dry on their skins. They both need a shower, as soon as possible.
"You wanted me to move."
"Jesus, you dumbass. I wanted you to move because I couldn't feel my leg and my back hurt from having you all night on me. It's not that I minded it the way you probably thought I did," he rolls his eyes, a hand that was cupping Louis' cheek now falling down and taking the rich man's hand instead.
"I'm sorry," he says again.
"Stop saying sorry, will you?" Harry replies with a cheeky smile, intertwining their fingers together.
"Sorry. I mean... Huh. Okay," he stutters awkwardly, "Uh... Thank you for the flowers, they are so pretty," Louis breaths out, looking at the lilies, poor things half-dead on the table next to them.
"I don't think they'll recover anymore, though," Harry glances at them, too.
"I'll try to revive them," the rich man smiles and stretches out to take them into his free hand, "I really like them."
"I'm happy to hear that, then," Harry smiles, liking the view of Louis with the flowers.
"We probably should talk, though," the rich man says with a more firm, stern voice. He doesn't want to talk. He is scared to know Harry's opinion. Only if they could just skip this whole awkward part and finally come to the part where he can feel around Harry the way he felt that summer they met - comfortable and at home.
