A/N- TW// MENTIONS OF SELF HARM
So apparently kissing each other is a new activity they have established and continue to take forth. They've spent a shit ton more time together, upstairs in the mansion where they bake cookies and make ice slushies, in the living room where they read in a comfortable silence, down in the cottage where they dance to the songs filtering through the records; outside in the pool where they playfully dunk each other in and have water fights.
Anywhere they can squeeze it in, and neither one of them complain. Neither one of them decide to have that chat that they know is heavy on their shoulders. The what will happen once you're gone in a couple weeks time? What are we in this moment that'll create something more?
Louis wishes Harry could stay for as long as forever, but he knows that's not to happen, and as much as it hurts, that pain that embeds deep into his bones, is one he's felt far too many times that it is all but a dull hum pulsating through his core.
It's the middle of the night and he stirs out of sleep when he hears a tap tap tap occurring on his bedroom window. Any minute now, he will shoot that fucking bird from tapping its beak against the glass. He's had restless nights recently, that one particular day getting ever more nearer that it is quite literally just around the corner.
Tap.... tap.
Right!
He peels his eyes open, sulkily stomps to the window and pulls the curtains harshly apart, ready to come face to face with a beady eyed demon.
Instead, he spots the mass of curls atop someone's head, crouching down to grab another pebble from the floor, wearing nothing but pyjama bottoms. Louis furrows his brows, the window squeaking when it opens. The cool air chases away the humidity of his bedroom and it causes his sticky skin to pepper with goosebumps.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Louis hisses, shaking his head and thumping it onto the window frame.
"I can't sleep," Harry sulks.
Louis rolls his eyes. "That ain't my problem, love," he pauses. "Why didn't you message me instead of acting like a twat from a romance movie?"
Harry's brows narrow. "I did! You never replied." He crosses his arms irritably.
Louis' lips pull down. "I would've woken up if you did." He leaves the window to grab his phone, returning back. And sure enough, there's six missed calls from Harry, and nineteen messages. "You're not making the accusations of being a stalker any better, Curly," he muses. "I'm surprised I didn't hear it vibrate."
Harry shakes his head. "Are you coming?"
Louis tilts his head. "Where?"
Harry lifts his arms in the air in defeat. "Well if you checked your messages!" he all but shouts, the sound echoing around them and causing Clifford that's in the downstairs kitchen to bark.
Louis unlocks his phone, checking the countless messages Harry's sent him.
Curly H: I'm boooooorrrrrrredddd
Curly H: I can't sleeeeeeeep
Curly H: It's 2:02 how long will it take you to reply?!?!?
Curly H: Could do with a quick blowie ;)
Curly H: wow really thought that would've gotten you out of bed, but I see how it is
Curly H: Pleaseeeeeeee entertain meeeeeeee
Curly H: I wanna cuddle
Curly H: I miss our cuddles.
Curly H: Do YOU miss our cuddles? Or is that why you're ignoring me.
Curly H: if Louis Tomlinson doesn't reply in the next thirty seconds, it means he's gay.
Curly H: HA! GAYYYYYYY
Curly H: We're more alike than I thought, because same, I am gay but shhhhhhhh
Curly H: I trust you not to show ANYONE our messages mister!
Curly H: I'm seriously debating walking into the house and dragging you out of bed.
Curly H: Am I not that much to you? I see how it is :(
Curly H: wow. I hate you too.
Curly H: I'm joking could never hate you!
Curly H: Alright I'm getting you up, be ready.
Curly H: I'm coming now, be readyyyyy
"So... You're wanting a blowie?" Louis questions, raising a brow. "Harold, what happened to the first date?" Louis gasps.
Harry groans, slapping his palm to his forehead. "No! Later, but I just want to cuddle." He toes the pebbles in front of his feet, looking timid, shoulders scrunching up to his neck. "I slept better with you with me."
Louis pouts sweetly. "Wait there, doofus." He closes the door, trotting down the stairs and out the door to where he meets Harry in the courtyard. "Hey." He presses a kiss to his lips because he's allowed, and no matter how many times they kiss, he still cannot believe he's genuinely allowed to.
Harry links his hand into Louis', tugging him toward the cottage. "Fucking finally," Harry breathes, closing the door behind him. "I've missed you."
Louis blows air through his nose sharply, amused. "I only left here four hours ago, simp."
Harry nods. "I simp more for you than majority of my fans simp on me, I fear."
"Stalker." Harry hits Louis upside the head at that.
"Just get in bed so I can be little spoon," he decides and Louis doesn't have to be told twice.
He dives straight into the bed, rolling into the duvet like a burrito, despite the heat outside. Harry crawls in beside him, Louis pulling him flush against his chest, caressing his soft curls.
"What conditioner do you use?" Louis talks into the back of his head.
Harry snuggles further into Louis' arms, nose against the hand wrapped around his chest. "Some sort of coconut hair food. Does wonders, doesn't it."
Louis nods. "So, you want to sleep?"
Harry whines in his throat. "Talk. I can't sleep."
"Why?"
"Because my thoughts hurt when I sleep," he whispers.
Louis can relate to that. He pecks the back of Harry's head. "Better?" he asks, then after a beat says gently, "What do your thoughts say?" He doesn't want Harry to flee, not when he's this close to getting to know the true him and not the big trademark artist everyone sets him out to be. He already gets to know one of his biggest secrets, he doesn't want to make that go in vain.
"What Jeff would say and do if he found out. Found out about what I did on my time off. He will go straight to the PR and get them to find a beard for me. Some mid forty blonde bitch that doesn't know anything other than breathe," Harry states truthfully, and his voice is laced with pain.
Louis grazes his lips over Harry's bare shoulder, a small intimate gesture, to show he's here, he's listening and that he gets it.
Louis lays his cheek onto the shoulder he's just marked. "I get it, H. It might not be as bad as you, but I feel if some of my family found out, then they'd kick up a fuss and tell me it's a phase I'll grow out of. But we're here for each other, yes? We will figure something out, I can assure."
He hopes he's right.
Harry deeply exhales through his nose, nuzzling his nose into Louis' arm further. Louis brings his hand up to stroke Harry's forehead, hoping that it's calming his thoughts. They fall into a silence that's comfortable.
Soon enough, they're both falling asleep in each other's arms, finally having a rest that isn't full of demons and shadows that have come from the past and future to haunt their present.
...
Louis stirs awake, feeling as though his eyes will never learn to open again. They're heavy, but his mind is clear for the time being, being able to feel the soft sheets beneath him that smell like Harry. He rolls over, hand coming back empty when he reaches out for the curly lad.
His brows crease, and he's hoping he didn't just dream all of that and Clifford will lick him awake any moment to ask to go outside.
But when he peeps an eye open after a moment of self protest, he finds himself staring back at his reflection from the mirrored wardrobe. Light streaks through the crack in the light curtains, waving in a breeze coming from outside since the window is opened. There's a bee that comes buzzing in, fat body hitting into the mirror, and Louis is quickly scrambling out the bed, running out the room.
He puts a hand to his heart whilst it hammers, composing himself before walking into the small kitchen where Harry's fixing up two teas on the narrow counter. He can't help himself when he steps forward and wraps his arms around Harry's middle, resting his head on Harry's shoulder blades.
"Morning," he mumbles lowly. "I'm fuckin' tired, what time is it?"
"Just gone eleven thirty," Harry replies, grabbing Louis' hand gently and giving his knuckles a kiss. "Morning, Sunflower."
Louis' belly sores at the nickname, and heat flushes through his face. "What would you like to do today?"
"I need to take a call with Jeff," Harry blurts, sounding as though he'd rather stab a needle through both eyes and eat them. "He's asked me to give him a ring."
"Tell him to piss off," Louis snaps. "It's your holiday, you don't owe him anything when it's your own time off."
Harry breathes through gritted teeth. "It's not that simple," he says sadly. He turns around in Louis' arms so their chests are pressed together. He brushes Louis' hair back, smiling sweetly at him. "Don't worry, I'll be fine."
Louis pouts. "You sure? I can drop kick him if needed."
Harry chuckles, shaking his head with endearment. "I think we will be fine. He's just calling to see if things are okay, that's all."
Louis scoffs. "Who is he to care? I'm the only one who gets to care here."
Harry cups Louis' cheeks, the kettle behind them rattling as it gets to its boiling point. "You're such a fan," he says with a cheeky grin. "Got an obsessed fan on my hands."
"And I've got a stalker on mine, so who's got it worse?" Louis challenges, reaching up to capture their lips into a quick kiss.
Harry's thumbs stroke Louis' cheeks, breath heavy when he deepens the kiss, pressing himself further into Louis. Louis grinds down on him slightly, moan getting caught in his throat. He trails his arms down Harry's sides, resting them on his waist where the waistband of his pyjama bottoms lay. Harry's hands move down Louis' chest and over his tummy, rising them under the tshirt he wore to bed last night, scratching lightly up and down his back, causing a shiver to cascade down Louis' body. His tongue swipes along Harry's, the burning passion writhing them both, but when Harry goes to touch Louis' arse through the boxers he's only got on, Louis' brain shadows and he's quick to pull away, acting as though he's done so to catch his breath.
He leans his forehead into Harry's. "Kettle's boiled, love."
Harry gives Louis one last peck before he's turning around to start on the tea. "I was originally going to bring it in for you as you were still asleep," Harry admits, the spoon tinkling against the china.
Louis shakes his head, itching to get out, his brain humming with old memories he'd rather not see right now. He blames that the day is so close, and it always brings bad memories with him. Anything can trigger it, even if it was something as amazing as Harry giving him the attention his heart has craved for so long.
"'S too hot for tea for me. I'm gonna go grab a milkshake or something," he lies, pointing to the door.
Harry frowns. "Oh. I could always make you one, if-if you want?" he suggests shyly.
Louis' heart wants to be back in Harry's arms and crowding his personal space, but his god forsaken brain screams at him to run, and he always listens to his fucking brain.
"It's alright, love. The sooner you get your call done, the sooner we can have a water fight on the trampoline, how about that?" He just needs a moment to clear his mind, just to get himself back into the right mindset.
Harry looks a little defeated and it kills Louis to see him looking like that, where his eyes sink just that littlest bit, and his dimples smooth out and disappear. "Okay. I'll see you later?"
Louis nods with a small smile. "Course! I can get Mabel to whip us up some sandwiches," he decides.
Harry's eyes brighten at that. "Yeah. Okay. See you then, Lou." He gives him a kiss on the cheek, letting him leave.
Once Louis is back in his room—where he's ignored Mabel's calls for him to tell her all about last night— does his lungs decide to bring a few puffs of oxygen in within them. He paces back and forth, gripping his hair and tugging to try and ground himself. His heart hammers in his chest, the shadows slithering up his body like a snake, crowding around his brain as if its their mousy meal. Tears sheer his vision whilst his limbs begin to shake.
His eyes land on the chest of drawers up against the wall. He knows it's in there. He hasn't had that urge in over a year, and his hand motions toward his thighs instinctively. He walks over toward the drawer, yanking it open and filing through it, the panic within him creating his throat to close up.
He doesn't understand why his brain always results to this when something is this upsetting. Why did his brain even go to those images when Harry was kissing him, anyway? He's not him! Why can't he be fucking normal and kiss the guy he's deeply endeared by?
He throws the drawer out from its slot when his shaky hands can't pick the random bits and bobs from within it, the drawer falling to the floor with a loud thud, the pieces inside scattering around the floor. He sinks to the carpet, hands brushing odd bits of paper and random pens aside until they land on the item his mind seems to crave.
He flicks the flame alight, staring into the oranges and yellows that dance in the air, mesmerising. He lifts his shirt up slightly so it doesn't rest on his thighs, revealing the faint scars that pepper the skin there. He chews at his lip, knows this is a bad idea.
But the bad thoughts always seem to win.
He flicks the flame alight again, bringing it toward his thighs.
A knock on the door startles him and the flame blows out as if it's a magician doing a trick.
"Shit," Louis whispers under his breath. He frantically looks up to the door.
"Lou, son? You okay in there? I heard a bang," Peter asks from the other side.
Louis scrambles up, pulling his shirt down and kicks all the shit under his bed in the hopes of masking it.
"Y-yeah, Dad, 'm good!" he calls back.
The door handle jiggles and Peter is poking his head in before fulling stepping into the room when he sees the state Louis is in. His eyes land on the lighter that hasn't quite made its way under the bed.
His shoulders slump, head tilting and he looks to Louis with sympathy. "Oh, bud," he gently says. "You didn't, did you?"
He knows of Louis' old habits. Caught him on more than one occasion. Every time, he never showed any sign of anger, only pity and understanding, and most importantly, support.
Louis' bottom lip quivers. "No. I didn't, but shit, Dad, I so wanted to," he sniffles, tears spewing over once more.
Peter walks further into the room, pulling Louis into a bear crushing hug. He rocks them side to side, his stubble scratching the side of Louis' face. "It's alright, kid. It's alright. What's got you in the bad mindset?"
Louis grips onto Peter's white pristine shirt with white knuckles. "It's so close, Dad," he breathes out.
Peter squeezes him that much tighter. "I know, lad, I know. But we need to learn to find the light within this, yeah? You can't always result back to this every year, it's not healthy."
Louis rubs his snotty nose over Peter's shoulder, not caring if a bit of snot falls upon the shirt. "I'm sorry, Dad." He doesn't know if he's apologising for almost harming himself again, or for the past that haunts them both.
"It's okay, kid, it's okay."
Louis soon calms down, composing himself. He straightens, wipes his eyes and nose with the back of his hand. "I'm okay."
Peter scans him with his eyes, before patting his shoulder and fishing the lighter from the floor. "I'm disposing of this so it doesn't taunt you, okay?"
Louis nods. "I can live with that." He can use the matches for the fire to light his candles he enjoys lighting on rainy days.
Peter hesitantly steps toward the door before leaving, keeping the door ajar as a precaution.
Louis slumps into his bed, exhaustion running over him.
A/N- HIIIII
Okay gonna write chapter 17 real quick because we are gonna finally find out wtf happened to Louis :)
Vote and comment and I'll see you in the next update
Stay Safe xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox