Silent conversations were fast becoming Harry and Louis’ forte; there was something weirdly daring about flirting so boldly right underneath everyone’s noses, and even though it was probably dangerous and asking for trouble, it was so exciting and almost addictive in a way that they carried on without considering the consequences. Despite their obvious teasing and the longing looks that they gave each other whenever there was too much distance between them, nobody seemed to suspect a thing. This made Harry giddy; enamored with the idea of having a secret lover, he flaunted his attraction for Louis in front of everyone, unashamedly baiting Louis to a level that was unparalleled by anybody Louis had ever met before. He had considered himself a flirt; usually he would do completely outrageous things in the name of flirtation, but Harry was on a level of his own – Louis had to scold him for being too obvious on more than one occasion, such as when Harry had caught his eye from the other side of the room, winked at him, and mouthed ‘Hey gorgeous’ into the air, punctuating it with a kiss into the air. Luckily, nobody spotted the gesture, but Louis had lectured Harry for a good ten minutes during one of their sessions before a lighthearted remark caught him off guard and they had disintegrated back into silly banter once again.
Louis started living for his weekly twenty minutes with Harry; by fiddling with the clock in the hallway outside his office, he managed to sneak half an hour every session or sometimes more and the guards posted outside were none the wiser, although he had once seen Liam frowning in confusion and poking his watch on a very lucky day when they had managed a whole three quarters of an hour before Harry had been summoned and sent back to the main area with the other prisoners.
These precious moments they snatched together were filled with hours’ worth of conversation crammed into the space of a few minutes; each was determined to understand as much of the other as he could, and topics ranged from their families and friends to their favourite types of food. They were different in so many ways – and yet strikingly similar as well, and even though they never so much as held hands, Louis felt that he could trust Harry with anything. He shared secrets with him that he’d never have dreamed of telling anyone else, and in return Harry confided in him, until there was nothing much else to tell. That was when they truly relaxed around each other; knowing everything there was to know, they relaxed into an easy routine. Louis told Harry about silly things happening in the outside world, from celebrities to the daft escapades of his own family – Harry never failed to be amused by stories of Daisy and Phoebe’s antics – while Harry found out every possible scrap of prison gossip and relayed it to Louis instantly. A strange kind of bond formed between them; they grew so close that Harry became agitated when he went even a day without speaking to Louis, and Louis felt uncomfortable when he stayed away from the younger boy for too long, although they both agreed that he hid it better.
Even talking became unnecessary after the first few weeks. Louis longed to take things a little further, and that longing manifested itself as a desire to sit and stare almost creepily at Harry for long and preferably uninterrupted periods of time. If anyone disturbed him while he was watching Harry, he instantly fell into a foul mood, snapping at everyone and bewildering whoever had tried to attract his attention. Deny it as he might, Harry found this hilarious and sometimes, just to be annoying, he would get up and wander casually around, and then laugh so much he nearly fell over at the sight of Louis’ head bobbing up and down as he tried vainly to keep Harry in sight. This earned Harry several weird looks from all the people who couldn’t understand what he was laughing at, and Louis would just pout, and sometimes he would sulk, which only made Harry laugh harder.
Of course, Louis wasn’t going to let him get away with THAT. So when Harry was crammed into the lunch hall, eating, Louis would cheerfully stroll up and down the room, taking long, deliberate strides, and then he would casually help himself to some food – and he then ate it as provocatively as he could. Sometimes he looked alluring; other times he looked like an idiot, but for some reason, anything to do with Louis’ mouth moving fascinated Harry, and he would simply stare like a moron, forgetting his own food, so that by the time he remembered what he was supposed to be doing and looked down at his plate, he would usually discover that either his meal had gone cold, or Niall had eaten half of it. One time, Harry became so enthralled by watching Louis eat a breadstick in slow motion that when he returned his attention to his food, his plate was completely empty, and Niall was innocently staring at the ceiling with the crumbs from Harry’s sandwich smeared around his mouth. Louis had burst out laughing, naturally, and the disgust on Harry’s face had amused him so much that he had staggered into a wall and slammed his head so hard against it that he almost gave himself concussion.
These silly little moments might have seemed inconsequential to an outsider, but to Harry and Louis they were everything. What they didn’t dare to say, they expressed through playing, and it was the kind of thing that could easily be passed off for a joke – unlike many things that happened within the privacy of the office.
It was nothing remotely intimate; in fact, nothing physical happened between them at all. But the long pauses filled only by yearning, the wide-eyed glances they shared, the odd little murmurs of conversation that betrayed just how closely they confided in each other, and the little moments of synchronization where they mirrored each other’s body language and spoke in unison – all of these things, as far as Louis was concerned, were more intimate than the most passionate of embraces. He wouldn’t have traded those moments for anything – not even a real embrace, a real kiss instead of a wistful fantasy conjured from his imagination. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to kiss Harry – he did, and so much that it was painful. His chest hurt sometimes because his heart hammered so hard, beating violently against his ribcage like it was trying to burst its way out, and his lips seemed to tingle with an unexplained heat on an increasingly familiar basis, trembling uncontrollably with longing. Even a lookfrom Harry’s direction could reduce him to an aching mess. Yet despite his wish, he was content just to dream, because he knew that when the moment came, it would be more perfect than the most amazing fantasy he could have come up with. Harry seemed to share the sentiment; he never complained, although Louis caught him rubbing his mouth sometimes with a rueful smile, and occasionally his breath would catch and he would sigh longingly. Those little movements would be Louis’ undoing; his willpower started diminishing at every breath that escaped Harry’s lips, and when Harry huffed in frustration, Louis’ intestines tied themselves in knots, his heart hurtled into the bottom of his stomach, his whole body rippled with shudders of desire and he had to rush out and compose himself. It happened on an increasingly regular basis.
They carried on in that way for over a month, and Louis found himself mooching along the prison corridors with a dreamy expression on his face. Liam, Zayn and Niall all took him on one side to ask him if he was okay, and he assured each of them that he was absolutely fine, just a little distracted – which was entirely true. Liam never bothered approaching him with concerns about Harry any more: Harry was constantly in a brilliant mood, and he wasn’t afraid to show it. Some people glared darkly at him, annoyed simply because he had the audacity to cheerfully stroll around grinning at people, and making conversation with the grumpiest people he could find, just for the sheer amusement of irritating them. Louis couldn’t help but be amused by this childish behavior; seeing scowling middle-aged men hurrying into the toilets in their desperation to escape Harry’s stream of happy chatter never failed to make him smile.
They had nearly reached the two-month anniversary of their sort-of-relationship, and Harry had found an excuse to pop into Louis’ office. That had been a good hour ago. They had begun a conversation about a film Louis had seen with his sisters at the weekend, and somehow had progressed to the pros and cons of ebay, which Harry disapproved of. It was a pretty boring discussion, with Harry outlining in mind-numbing detail every flaw he could find in the site, and ticking off all the possible dangers and ways in which ebay could cause you to be the victim of fraud, overcharging or various other misfortunes, while Louis pretended to be attentive and secretly let his mind drift. He couldn’t be bothered listening to the many faults Harry listed, and he had no desire to join the hate-campaign against the site, so he absently watched the movement of Harry’s lips as he continuously spouted skepticism about ebay’s many failings, which he was adamant overshadowed its benefits. It got so dull that Louis was ready to rip his own ears off, but the sound of Harry’s voice changed his mind; he could listen to that voice forever.
He was about to open his mouth to interrupt Harry’s tirade and point out that ebay was intended for selling mainly second-hand items, which couldn’t be expected to all be in pristine condition, when it struck Louis that he was in love with the curly-haired idiot he was talking to. The realization made him stop dead, and he stared in awe at Harry, who carried on talking, clueless.
“ – but you know, I really think he’s right. I mean, you never know what you’re buying off ebay, do you? I’d never do it. You don’t know what kind of condition the item could be in; it could be complete rubbish and you wouldn’t have a clue until it arrived. I’ve never been a fan of online shopping. Give me a good old fashioned supermarket any d – you’re staring at me, did you know?”
It took Louis a few seconds to realize that Harry had asked him a question, and by the time he realized, he was blushing rather obviously.
“Sorry?”
“You’re staring,” Harry repeated conversationally. “Do I have something on my face?”
“No.”
“Oh, good.” Pause. “So why are you staring at me?”
“I was thinking,” Louis said slowly.
“Oh, God, don’t do that; I’m not sure your brain could take it.” Harry grinned. “What were you thinking about?”
Louis’ answer was instantaneous: “You.”
“Obviously. Anything specifically to do with me, or just myself in general?”
“I was just trying to work out the exact moment when I fell in love with you – but I can’t remember. I just know that…I love you.” Louis smiled to himself.
He should have been troubled by the news; he was acknowledging deep inside that he would do anything for this boy, that he cared for Harry more than he cared for himself. He was tying himself down, committing himself to this, and incriminating himself because he could no longer even attempt to deny his feelings, and by intentionally having a relationship with his patient, he was breaking the law. The fact was that Louis had fallen for Harry too hard to be bothered by such mundane concerns; he was still stunned by the impact of his sudden rush of feelings, and all sensible thoughts had been banished from his head. He wanted to jump up and down and yell every deepest, darkest thought out to the world; he wanted to proclaim his love from every rooftop of every skyscraper in the world – but at the same time, it seemed a secret thing, something to be cherished and kept close to his heart forever. Still, no matter how much he craved secrecy, there was one person he had to tell.
“I love you, Harry,” Louis said in wonder. “I really…I really do love you.”
“That’s good,” Harry said softly, leaning forwards and resting his chin on his hand – “because you see, I love you too.”