"You can't do that"
"Do what?" Harry challenges.
" You can't walk around smelling all-"
" Smelling all what?" He was enjoying the effect he was having on Louis, though part of him was terrified.
" Like fucking heaven"
" I thought vampires didn't bel...
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AUGUST 23, 2024
It was a beautiful Saturday afternoon. The sun was out so the entire house was bathed in a beautiful golden color. There was a time when he'd enjoy the beauty of it—how everything seemed almost ethereal when it was bathed in that beautiful color. But now, everything seemed bland compared to when the golden hour had once brought to life the bluest of eyes. He'd never known a beauty quite like the one he gazed upon when the man, beautiful and golden, would gift him a smile.
He had ruined the beauty of the golden hour for him, just like he had ruined the color blue, pancakes, tea, and just about anything that he could relate to the man.
Harry had moved on in his life, but his world always seemed to stand still whenever the memory of him would come back.
Today though—today he had planned on cleaning his house. He had woken up, made himself some breakfast, got a surprise visit from Zayn and his 3 year old son, got scolded by Zayn for not cleaning out Louis' old room, and then decided that maybe it was time to clean out the room.
He wasn't cleaning out the room though.
Instead he was deep cleaning the rest of his house. I mean if he was going to clean out that room, then he may as well clean the house too right?
Right.
He had tidied up the guest room, the bathrooms, the kitchen and the living room. He was now cleaning out the closet in his bedroom and had taken down the clothes that were folded on the shelf in order to dust it. He smiled as he grabbed the stack of magazines that was at the corner of the shelf.
Most of them were home magazines and some were destination magazines that featured different places in the world. He used to collect them to use the pictures on the magazines for inspiration on what to paint, usually when he was lacking artistic inspirations.
Some of the magazines weren't that old. The most recent one being about a year old. However, the ones at the bottom were much older, from years back.
So naturally, he found himself sitting on his bed surrounded by magazines that he decided to sort by category.
He was opening another magazine when a photo slipped out from it. When he picked it up and flipped it over, nearly all the wind was knocked out of his lungs.
Fuck.
He thought he could do this but he was wrong. He was so—so wrong.
It was impossible to just erase him, to move on from him. It has been 11 years now and his heart still aches like it was just yesterday when he'd seen him last.
He allowed his thumb to graze the picture lightly as if doing so would somehow allow him to feel his skin under his thumb again. He found he wanted that more than anything in the world.
