nothing // larry stylinson au

Chapter Fifteen

Neither Harry or Louis knew if it was a good idea to do it, but they did it regardless. Despite what the consequences could have been, without considering them, they did it.

Eleanor was home. She was home during the night for the first time since Louis starting sneaking the boy out to his gigs. She was home meaning there was a risk of them getting caught. The smart thing to do would have been to keep Harry home with Eleanor, but Louis didn't want to.

Tears were streaming down Harry's face. "I know you have to leave me, but I really don't want to be alone with her."

"She won't hurt you," Louis insisted, although he wasn't for sure.

"But she might," Harry cried. He stuffed is face into Louis' chest, clinging onto his shirt. The older man was just about to leave the house to go to work, standing at the door with his hand on the door knob. When Harry came around the corner and appeared in the living room, however, he forgot what he was doing. "And what if I get mad and hurt her back? I'm a monster and you know it."

Scoffing and shaking his head in disbelief, Louis muttered, "You aren't a monster, H. Your past is your past. Try and forget." He rubbed Harry's back benevolently while closing his eyes. He closed his eyes, the comforting and warm feeling that Harry caused soothing him. "If she hurts you, call the bar. I'll leave my phone with you."

"No. Please," pleaded Harry. He peered up at Louis with round, tear-filled eyes. Desperately, he pulled at his shirt and whined, only triggering Louis' heart to melt more and more. "Don't leave me, please."

This was Louis' last straw, the only heartstring that needed to be pulled before he gave in, tugging the boy out the front door and towards the car. Prior to driving to the bar, he sent Eleanor a text, not wanting to actually talk to her at the moment. It told her that Harry was in the spare bedroom and had a headache, not wanting to be bothered. Hopefully that would be enough for her not to go in there and discover that he not only does not have a headache, but isn't actually in the house. It was a huge risk. Louis was dumb enough to think it would work.

Singing at the bar doesn't feel like a job if he has Harry with him. Not only does it make Louis more money when Harry is with him since the crowd enjoys it and tips him more, but it also give Louis happiness. At home, life seems a bit dull. The sun shines a bit brighter with Harry. Bringing Harry with him is like their escape, their escape from the harshness and wrath of Eleanor. It's an escape from reality. Looking across at Harry as he sings still fills him with a feeling he can't quite explain. He doesn't have to explain it, though. He doesn't have to know. All he knows is that he is feeling. That is enough to satisfy him.

Although all of the questions concerning Harry's past have been answered, Louis is still constantly curious about how he is feeling in return. The boy is good at sheltering away his feelings mostly because he doesn't know how to express them. He never had to before, hidden in the dark basement. Down there he never felt much of anything. No one was with him to make him feel. In a way, he can relate to Louis in that sense.

They're the reason both feel. They make each other feel.

"Lou. How do you know if you are in love?"

The question caught Louis off guard, so sudden while packing up their equipment after the show. They hadn't been talking too much the whole time. Harry asks about love often and he might've asked this same question before. Louis doesn't mind answering his several questions since no one could answer them when he lived with his uncle and Louis feels bad about that. Just sometimes, Louis doesn't know how to answer the questions.

"I think you just know."

"But how?"

It's not that often that he gets sentimental, but for Harry, he'd do anything.

Louis sighed. "Well, I think if you can imagine a future with them and think about them often, wondering what they are doing when you aren't with them... Those could be signs," he spoke in a low voice, peering into Harry's bright green eyes. "You also love their imperfections. You feel like yourself. You miss them when you aren't with them and feel empty when you're with someone else."

Completely indulged in the man's words, Harry nods, his curls bobbing up and down. To him, it seems like Louis knows exactly what he is talking about. Louis isn't so sure how he knows, but he continues.

"You overcome challenges with them and compromise to make things work for the both of you." Somehow his hand found its way to Harry's, resting it on top of his that lied on the surface of a closed box. "You think of being intimate with them. It's deep and passionate and forever." He leans in closer until their noses rest against each other's, the simple touch making Louis timid.

"I love you."

Those three words that came from Harry's mouth made his heart spring in his chest. All Louis could do in that moment was stand from where they were sat next to the box and begin carrying things outside. Those three words meant a lot to Harry. Those three words confused Louis more. It confused him so much that he attempted to avoid them for the rest of the night. They kept echoing in his head, however. He couldn't escape this.

"I know how I feel," Louis admitted as he started the car. "I just don't want to say it out loud.

From the passenger seat, Harry looked over, intrigued. "Why not?"

"It makes it real."

Louis drove them to the house in silence, feeling awkward and tense, yet somewhat comfortable with Harry near. Isn't it strange how again his hand somehow found its way to Harry's? Only this time their fingers intertwined and Louis felt at peace. That was until he pulls up in the driveway to see a certain female's face in the living room window.

"Louis."

"Be quiet, sweetheart," Louis says in a panic as he turns off the car after pulling his hand from Harry's. "She's going to be mad, but don't pay attention. Just go straight to your room."

"But, Lou-"

"Be quiet and go straight to your room. Now."

Huffing quietly, Harry gets out of car. Louis does the same before leading him up to the house. The younger one keeps his head down, frightened for himself and Louis. They have no one to blame, but themselves.

After Harry was sent to the room, Eleanor exploded. She barely waited for his door to close.

"I can't trust you anymore, Louis," she yells, shoving at his chest furiously. "What do you think you're doing sneaking out with him after I specifically said not to? We're married. We're supposed to be loyal."

Louis' cheeks grow red in humiliation. "I'm not going to argue with you. I'm just sorry."

"You lied. You've probably been lying this whole time."

"Why do you hate him so much that you've turned into some bitch?"

Her mouth gapes open and that is when Louis realizes he is still a fucking idiot.

"You were kissing him."

Louis lets out a sigh, looking down at the ground in shame. "I know and I'm sorry. I feel really, really bad. I regret it. I'll do whatever to make it up to you. You're my wife." The problem is, he doesn't know if he actually regrets it or not.

"Treat me like it."

He ran his fingers through his hair, continuing to not make eye contact with his wife who is practically shaking in anger. "I will, alright?"

Looking unconvinced, Eleanor nears her husband. She gets close enough that their toes touch, so close that it seems as if she is about to kiss him, but she has an angry expression. Her lips are snarled and eyes are glaring. He still didn't see it coming.

She slaps him.

She slaps him again, for the second time, and he feels even more empty in the presence of his wife. Stalking off to their bedroom after that, she is completely silent, almost as if it never happened.

Shocked, Louis only stands there frozen. Guilt pours over him. He is hurt, too, but still feels as if he deserves it. Maybe he deserves to be treated like nothing. Maybe he doesn't deserve anything more than nothing.

But then why would have God given him Harry?