Who Are You? {L.S}

>Chapter 48<

Chapter dedication to Mrs_Styliphorik ♥
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[Harry]

"Loueh, you idiot!"

"What?" He asks innocently, as if he just didn't throw his empty pack of cigarettes on my face. I shake my head, rolling my eyes as he lights his fag and takes a deep drag.

"Stop smoking, will you?" I say, trying to sound annoyed. He shakes his head 'no' at me before looking back at the scene of the town below us. It looks beautiful as we watch it from this cliff, especially, at night. "You should quit, you know? It's not good for your health." I say as I lay down on the grass, looking up at the moon, leaving Louis in sitting position beside me.

"Nothing I ever do is good for my health." He says, puffing out the smoke and tilting his head to look at me. "Except you, that is." He smiles softly and I blush, looking back at the moon. It doesn't look that beautiful now that I just saw Louis smile. I get up in a sitting position again, looking at Louis, who stares at the night sky in distance.

"Can I try?" I ask and point at the cigarette when he looks at me.

"No." He says and looks back at the sky.

"Why not?" I pout.

"Not good for your health." He states with a stern look.

"Please, Daddy?" I crawl on his lap. "I promise to be a good boy then." I lick under his ear and push my hip into his in a teasing manner before I hear his breath hitch.

"Fuck, fine! Here." He sighs and hands me his cigarette.

"Yay!" I peck his lips before placing the stick in between my lips. I try to take a drag and immediately start coughing hysterically while Louis rubs my back.

"Slow down, tiger. Don't take a long drag just yet. Start with small puffs." He says and I nod before doing just that.

After a while, I become quite comfortable with the slight burn and the smoke as I take long drags. Meanwhile, Louis nibbles on my earlobe and the sensitive skin of my neck, scattering hickeys. "You know.." He says against my skin as I hum in response and he continues, "As much as I like to say it's unhealthy, you really look hot smoking." he states and I take a long drag before connecting our lips. He immediately kisses back and I let out the smoke in his mouth. He keeps it in for a moment before exhaling it out of his nose. He rolls us over so that I'm laying down and he's on top as we kiss feverishly before parting for air. He plops on his elbow and stares down at me while I bring the fag between my lips and inhale the smoke as I look up at him. Now that his face looks right beside the moon from my view, that whole thing looks nothing compared to just his eyes.

Now that I think of it, I believe, that night, in that moment, was when I realized I was in love with the boy whose smile shone brighter than the moon and whose eyes alone could put it's beauty to shame.

I caress the packet of cigarettes that I found in the closet while packing my stuff, which brought back the memory of when I smoked for the first time. After that night, I had started keeping a pack with me, but only smoked when I was with him. In past two years, I had tried doing it several times, but ended up throwing the stick even before pulling it near my lips. I just couldn't do it without having his arms around me or without having him around me or at least without having his eyes on me as I did so.

I throw the packet in the dustbin and carry on packing my clothes, ignoring the voice in my head that tries stopping me from packing the pink, lace top or the sweats and hoodies from the top shelf that all belonged to Louis or the photo frame on my computer desk. I pack it all, I want to get away from his memories, not the proof of his existence.