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“Here’s to Louis!” shot glasses clinked together, spilling some of the content over their arms, but they didn’t seem to care. They all took their glasses to their mouths, swallowing the contents and grimacing at the burn that it left on their throats. Louis grinned widely, smiling at the other people toasting with him. They all had this blissful and unpreoccupied look on their faces.
Personally, he would say his life was going pretty well, he did what he loved more than anything, had an amazing group of friends, and lived in a nice house.
He worked as an artist, and although that was a work that was difficult to live from, he did it.
It all started as an infatuation that Louis had with art when he was a kid. He had sketchbooks from almost every stage of his life. He got constantly reprimanded at school because he was drawing instead of doing his work. His parents were always supportive of him and his love for art, but they always tried to nudge him into having a plan b, just in case that art wasn’t enough. He owed most of it to his grandmother, who used to tell Louis he was going to be the biggest artist ever and who shared her love of art with him.
Until a couple of months before, Louis was waking up at seven in the morning to head to work, a mediocre nine to five job at a retail store that paid decently. He had graduated from art school, which was something that he had always dreamed of but never thought possible,but the need for money was too big for him to get a proper job that involved art. He took on being one of those artists who drew people in public spaces, earning a bit more money with that.
That was until some business woman approached him when he was making a sketch of a little girl who was grinning at him from where she sat on her stool. The woman took a look at the drawing and started nodding, which confused Louis, but he needed to keep his focus on the drawing. He felt uncomfortable under her gaze, shifting in his seat.
When the picture was finished and the girl’s parents paid him, the woman cleared her throat.
He felt intimidated by her, with her blue eyes boring into him and her powerful stance.
“Um, can I help you?” Louis had asked, confused as he stared up at her from where he was sitting on his stool in front of his wooden stand.
“Yes you can, my name is Taylor Swift, I work at the Southpark Gallery.” She said, reaching into her purse and taking a card with all her contact information and handed it to Louis. “I like your sketch, you have an excellent technique.I think this might be what I was looking for” Louis inspected the card, it was pink all over, not what Louis would exactly consider the most conventionally professional.
Louis’ eyes widened. “Really?”
“Yes, do you have any other works that I could see?”
That's how Louis found himself opening the front door of his apartment for her, nervous under her intense gaze. He had always dreamed of having a studio, but due to his current economic situation, he only had a small apartment where he could paint.
He walked towards the sofa, which contained some of his paintings. He lifted them and leaned them on the old piece of furniture so that she could inspect them better.
Taylor looked at them with intent, her gaze serious. After what felt like an eternity for Louis, she spoke: “I like them, I think they have potential, I think you do too. Visit me at the museum tomorrow and bring some of your other works”
Months later, he was celebrating with his friends that his exhibition on the Museum of London was a complete success, the place filled with people gushing over his paintings. In a short period of time, Louis turned into one of the most successful modern artists.
“I can’t believe how far you’ve come, Lou,” one of his friends, Jade, said to him earnestly. She was the kind of person that got emotional when they were drunk.
“I know right, it's insane,” Michael, another of Louis’ close friends, said as he draped an arm over his shoulder.
“It seems like it was just yesterday that I found you in the park making a portrait of a little girl. You were just a man with a dream and a love for art. They grow up so fast” Taylor wiped fake tears from her eyes. That action made Louis roll his eyes playfully and smack a loud kiss on her cheek. During the time since they started working together, they grew inseparable. Taylor ended up quitting her job at the museum to become Louis’ manager instead, and had been his partner in crime ever since.
“Aww, come here” Louis wrapped his arms around her.
“Group hug!” Niall yelled, and they all scattered around to wrap their arms around them, which made them all laugh.
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Louis dragged his feet as he opened the front door to his house. He had made a small fortune with the money he was earning, and he didn’t hesitate on moving. He held no attachment to his previous small apartment, he once did, but now it was just a bitter reminder.
Louis closed the heavy door and made his way to the sofa, an expensive one instead of that cheap one that they had dragged through the subway when they found it on the side of the road. He plopped face down on the couch, grunting at the impact.
He heard feet padding down the hallway, and smiled. He turned his head, cheek still squished to the cold leather. He saw Dalí approach him, before she leaped onto the couch and laid down next to Louis.
“Hello, my precious” Louis smiled as he stroked the black fur of her head, the cat nuzzling his hand.
He stood up, groaning and cracking his back. Making his way towards the master bedroom, Louis started taking his shoes off. As he gained sight of his bed he started stripping off his clothes, just tossing them on the floor, too tired to care, he’d just fold them later. He flopped on his back on the bed, now justo on his briefs, staring at the ceiling. The last thing he heard before falling asleep was the sound of Dalí’s paws on the floor as she joined him on the bed.
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Louis got to his studio with Dalí in his arms. He spent most of the day there and didn’t want to leave the cat alone for such long periods of time.
As he opened the door, Dalí jumped off his arms to the floor, he smiled at her as he closed the door behind him.
He loved his studio, it was his favorite place. It was near a park, giving it a gorgeous green view, along with the fact that he had multiple plants cramped in the place.. It had floor to ceiling windows, which gave him the perfect lightning and were also perfect for him to not die intoxicated with the chemicals. Paint stains were everywhere, as well as different containers, palettes, tubes, etc. He put on his playlist and cracked his neck and fingers before getting to work.
He had been working on an abstract piece. It wasn’t what he normally painted, but he was akin to trying different styles. He would usually mix realism with some abstract components, letting his imagination roam free.
As he started mixing his colors he heard a soft knock on the door. “Come in!” he shouted, hoping it was heard over the music.
“Hey Lou” Taylor smiled at him, handing him one of the two mugs that she was holding.
“Hi T” Louis walked over to her, taking the mug from her hands and smiling gratefully.
“So, I wanted to talk to you about something” She said as she sat down on one of the park benches that Louis had in his studio. Michael always complained about it being uncomfortable to sit on when he visited, but Louis refused to get rid of it. He also reminded him that there was a perfectly fine couch on the other side of the room.
“Sure, what’s up?” He placed the mug on the table after downing half of it as he continued mixing the colors for the painting.
“So, you know Brickyard?” She crossed her legs and started petting Dalí, who had jumped on her lap. Taylor was the one who convinced Louis to get a cat, her having three of her own already.
“The hotel?” Louis said as he examined the canvas.
“That one, well, they want to sponsor a gallery showing off your works in one of their hotels” She said, caressing the fur between Dalí’s ears.
“Really?” Louis said, starting to paint, not paying much attention.
“Yes, and I think that it would be a great deal. They’re giving us an entire salon for it, which means that more people could go to see your paintings, and they’re offering a lot of money.”
“How much?” Louis said, turning around.
“A quarter million dollars.” She grinned.
Louis’ eyebrows rose and his eyes widened. That was an immense amount of money, much more than what galleries often paid him. He was unsure about the whole deal, he couldn’t quite understand why they would want him specifically when there were more influential artists willing to do it.
“You would have to go to the Brickyard offices this Thursday to officiate the whole deal.”
“Yes, I’ll do it,” Louis nodded. Brickyard was one of the most prestigious and luxurious hotel chains in the world. And that could give him good publicity, besides he heard they had just gotten a new CEO for the company, and it sparked curiosity in Louis.
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The halls lining the offices were white and elegant, decorated with the occasional painting. The whole place had an air of formality and seriousness that was making Louis’ insides churn.
The receptionist had directed him to the fifteenth floor, which is where the CEO’s office was located.
He stood by the elevator in silence, contemplating how out of place he felt in that environment.
When he got out of the elevator on the fifteenth floor he spotted who he figured was the secretary.
“Hi, I’m Louis Tomlinson, I’m here to talk to the CEO” Louis smiled politely as he approached her.
“Hold on a second” The woman said, not even looking at him. She stood up, adjusted her skirt and made her way towards the door and the end of one of the halls.
“Mr Styles, Louis Tomlinson is here to see you” the woman said as she opened the door a little and peeked her head inside.
Louis’ heart was pounding against his chest. It couldn’t be, he left. He did, he left.
“He’s asking for you to come in” She told Louis as she took her head out of the inside of the office, where she was peeking.
Louis stood up and headed to the door, taking deep breaths and forcing the air to enter his lungs.
He got to the door and pushed it to open it wider.
“Hello Louis.”
Shit.
It was him.
Even though he left.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.
Louis stood there dumbfounded, momentarily in shock. He shook himself out of it, refusing to let Harry see him like that, refusing to let him see that he still had an effect on Louis.
“Hi” Louis said, with a voice as firm as he could make at the moment.
“Please, take a seat” Harry gestured in front of him.
Louis sat down, staring at Harry. The man had changed a lot. He had his hair long, reaching his shoulders. He had sharper features, and a more intense stare. His shoulders were bigger, so were his arms, and the material of the suit was straining against the muscle. He looked serious, nothing like the Harry he used to know, the one he used to love. Well, before they fell apart.
“So, I wanted to talk about the gallery,” Harry started, not bothering with greetings or introductions. “I’ll make an exhibition to attract more people to the hotel.”
“Okay” Louis said flatly, staring blankly ahead.
“And your works fit the idea that I have” the man continued, expressionless eyes piercing into Louis.
“Okay.”
“The exhibition would take place five months from now” Harry laced his fingers together and placed them on top of the table. “And I think that would give you perfect time for you to make some new paintings.”
“Okay” Louis brought his left hand up and started checking his nails, scraping paint from them.
“If there are new paintings, that might also attract some other art enthusiasts that want to see some of your newest works” His eyes trailed to where Louis was checking his nails. “I’ll send you the requirements for the next pieces.”
“Oh, there's no need for that,” Louis brushed off, taking his eyes away from his nails and looking at Harry.
“Why?” Harry raised his brow, his whole composure felt extremely weird, stiff, in no way natural.
“Because” Louis smiled as he leaned in and rested his head on his hands “I’m not doing this shit.”
“What?” Harry frowned.
“You heard me, this is all bullshit, I’m not doing this.” Louis kept smiling as he stood up. “No one can tell me what to paint, especially not you.” He shot the man a cold stare.
“I’ll pay you double,” Harry said, still not showing any emotion.
“Ha! No.” He deadpanned, walking to the door.
“Triple.”
“No,” he kept walking.
“I’ll give you a million dollars.”
Louis stilled, hand still on the doorknob. He stood in silence, before he sighed and turned around, facing Harry.
“Fine, but I’ll paint what I want,” Louis said with a serious expression.
“Fine,” Harry said, his gaze cold. “Do we have a deal then?” He asked, extending his hand.
“Yeah, whatever.” Louis said, hesitantly shaking Harry’s hand, ignoring the sparks he felt encompass his whole arm. He took back his hand as if he had been burned, and left the office without saying another word.
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As soon as Louis got to his car and locked the doors, he let out the loudest scream he could muster, not caring that the whole neighborhood probably heard him.
He drove home with a stone set expression, not wanting to break down on the highway.
He called Taylor as soon as he got himself to calm down when he arrived home.
“So, did you take the offer?” Taylor said as soon as she picked up the call. Louis could tell she was eating something.
“Yeah, they increased it to a million,” Louis informed her.
“What?! A million fucking dollars?!” Taylor shrieked from her side of the line, making Louis flinch from the intensity of her voice.
“Yes, a million.” He nodded.
“They really do want it to be you who makes the exhibition, huh?” She asked thoughtfully.
“I mean, I guess so, it's not making the most sense to me to be honest.” Louis laid down on his bed, staring at the ceiling as he chatted with Taylor.
“I mean, way to go babe.” She said, and Louis could hear her smile from her voice.
“Thank you.” Louis smiled genuinely.
There was a loud crash on the other side of the line. “Oh shit, Meredith, get down! Get down!, sorry Lou, gotta go.” Taylor said as she hung up, making Louis laugh softly.
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“So, is it true they’re giving you a million dollars for an exhibition?” Niall asked Louis when they were both doing groceries at their local farmer’s market.
“I mean yeah, I don’t really understand it to be honest.” Louis inspected the tomatoes in his hands and softly squeezed them in order to taste their firmness.
“But like, if they offered you that much money it means they really really want your works.” Niall continued.
“I mean I guess, I still don’t get why,” he shrugged.
“It's because you’re an amazing artist Lou.” Niall squeezed Louis’ arm. “Also, maybe the CEO guy has some sort of crush on you, and that's why.”
“I really hope that's not true.” The man paid for his tomatoes and put them into his tote bag.
“Why? Is the guy ugly? Bald?” Niall babbled.
“No, Niall…”
“Old? I bet he’s old.”
“Niall! It's Harry, he’s the CEO guy.” Louis sighed.
“What?!” Niall shrieked, probably startling the whole block.
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A month later,Louis was in his studio, blasting Beyonce. Dalí was there with him, looking with an amused expression at his dance steps while he painted.
He was currently working on the second piece for the exhibition. He chose to do something riskier than he usually would, purely to spite Harry. The man had tried to contact Louis via mail several times, which were all deleted.
A loud knock on the door interrupted one of his best moves, making him scowl and go open the door, not bothering to turn the music down.
“Hello?” Louis asked as he opened the door a little so that Dalí wouldn’t run away. He was met with the sight of Harry standing in front of him with a serious expression. He was wearing another suit, and Louis wondered if all his wardrobe consisted of them. He remembered the shitty suit that Harry used to wear before.
“What are you doing here?” Louis scowled at him, narrowing his eyes.
“I sent you an email saying I was coming today.” Harry said in lieu of a response.
“That doesn't answer my question” Louis sassed.
“I came to see how you were doing with the paintings.” Harry rolled his eyes.
“Whatever, but make it quick, I don’t want you here,” he turned around and left the door open for the taller man to get in.
He then took consciousness of his outfit. He was wearing a stained jean overall that was a size too big, with a tight white shirt that was also stained with paint. He refused to feel embarrassed by it, reminding himself that he didn’t care if Harry saw him like that.
Harry started looking around the place with a look that Louis’ couldn’t quite recognize.
“I’ve finished this one,” he said as he extracted the canvas carefully from where it was stored. He showed it to Harry and waited for a reaction, but there was none, save for the slight glint in Harry’s eye.
“And I’m finishing this one.” Louis gestured to the canvas he was painting on. Harry tore his eyes away from the first painting towards the unfinished one. He walked over to the stand that held the canvas.
Louis tried his best not to be nervous, he didn’t care if Harry liked his work, he just wanted the money, right? Right.
Harry diverted his gaze from the canvas towards him, and then behind him. The man’s eyes stayed fixed behind Louis’ head. Out of curiosity, Louis turned his head as well, instantly finding what Harry was looking at. It was a self portrait he had made of his body.
When Louis went through a period of depression, he started to hate parts of himself. And something that helped him was to paint those parts. He had made that painting a couple weeks before, it showed his back from his neck to his upper thigh.
He had felt awkward taking a picture of himself like that at first, but he was in love with the result.
“You used to never do self portraits.” Harry commented absentmindedly.
“How do you know it's me?” Louis asked, looking up at him. The painting started from his neck, his head and hair out of the frame. The dimples on the bottom of his spine could be a possible tell, but there was no way Harry even remembered that. His ass was on full display too, showing off his curves quite nicely.
“Of course I’d recognize you, Lou.” Harry murmured, probably not even realizing.“Gorgeous,” he muttered again. He was using what his friends had once called his “Louis voice”; it was when his voice got deeper but at the same time softer. Louis remembered falling asleep to that same voice multiple times.
The world started spinning for Louis, panic shooting up his spine. A familiar feeling consuming him, a feeling that he never wanted to have for the same person.“Stop it, shut up.” Louis said, driving Harry out of his haze.
“What?” Harry furrowed his brows. He looked up at Louis confused, there was a hint of emotion behind his voice, like he was letting his guard slip away.
Louis’ heart was beating, his walls were falling, he coulnd’t feel like this again, for fuck´s sake. Not for him. “Don’t call me that, I’m not your friend.”
“Sorry,” Harry said, his tone as flat as always, but something in his body, in his eyes, deflated.
“I think you should leave,” Louis told him.
“You’re right.” Harry said, face angry as he let himself out, Louis not bothering to take him to the door.
When he heard the door slam shut was when he let his façade slip. Tears started falling from his eyes freely. His hands clenched into fists. He made his way towards the painting they had been staring at. He grabbed it and started trying to tear it, to break it, to destroy it. He was able to rip it, throwing it against a wall.
He looked down to the broken painting he had made of himself, one he was so proud of. He sank to the ground, covering his face with his hands as he sobbed. Ghosts from the past finally catching up to him.
As he kneeled on the ground, throat aching from the sobs that were ripping through it, Dalí reached him, nudging his elbow with her head. He just took her into his arms and cradled her to his chest as he cried.
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Louis sat in his car as he willed himself to calm down. He was parked in the Brickyard parking lot. He gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white and his fingers ached. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Louis unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door, got out and headed towards the front door.
He found himself inside the salon where his paintings would be displayed. The exhibition would consist of his most praised and famous works along with the new ones.
He was talking to one of the managers when he caught sight of Harry. Harry, who he was dreading seeing. He decided to ignore him in favor of focusing on the placement.
“I was thinking of organizing your paintings by colors, making a sort of transition.” The manager, who presented himself as Joe, pointed behind himself, to where the walls were.
“I guess that makes sense, but I think that the paintings should be organized chronologically.” Louis looked at him, “that way we have similar styles together.”
“Okay then,” Joe shrugged, “tell me where you want the timeline to start.”
Louis walked towards the wall that met the doors to the room and inspected it. “Here, so that the room looks like a proper timeline.”
They started inspecting the room, grabbing a pencil and measuring and marking where they wanted the pictures to be placed.
“Hold on, let me see.” Louis said as Joe lifted an empty canvas where he wanted the artwork to go. Louis walked backwards, and stumbled when he was met with a hard chest.
A firm hand pressed against his waist to stop him from falling, and when Louis looked up, he found the face that had been the reason for his sleepless nights and tear stained cushions.
Harry looked down at him with an unreadable expression, lips pressed into a firm, straight line and brows furrowed as always.
It took Louis a moment to remember they were touching, and he slowly detached himself from the man’s grip on his body.
“Harry.” Louis breathed, his voice coming out shy and airy.
“Louis.” Harry replied with a curt nod. Louis felt the breath getting caught in his throat, still not used to Harry saying his name. It reminded Louis of how he used to say it, with a warm tone and fondness coating his voice.
Louis cleared his throat and adjusted his sweater, straightening the ends of it.
“Mr Styles.” Joe intervened, with a surprised tone on his voice, reminding Louis that they weren't alone in the room.
“Hello, Joe.” Harry gave the same curt nod towards his employee.
“I wasn’t informed you were joining us today.” Joe noted, eyes wider and his body language getting more fidgety.
“I figured I could check how the place was going,” the man shrugged. For a brief second, Louis caught a glimpse of what seemed to be embarrassment on Harry’s face, almost as if he had gotten caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing. But that brief moment ended as soon as it began, Harry slipping on his stone mask again.
“Okay then” Joe nodded, far too eagerly. “Do you think this is a good place for a painting?”
“If you could drag it a little to the left.” Louis tilted his head, nodding after. “Perfect.”
He turned around, looking for where Harry was, finding him on the wall on one side of the room, eyeing both of them from the side. Gulping, Louis continued.
Harry’s eyes were relentless, and as much as Louis would love to say that they didn’t affect him, it was a distraction for him. Thankfully, it seemed to also be affecting Joe, who was fidgeting nervously, but probably for a different reason.
The man's eyes were boring into Louis, following his every movement and being a constant reminder of his presence. Besides that, he made no move, did not speak, didn’t move, just stared at them with a stone cold face.
“Thank you for coming.” Joe thanked Louis as they finished marking the placement of the artworks.
“No problem, I’ll bring the paintings I have finished so that we can see how they actually look hanged.” Louis smiled at him.
“That would be amazing.” Joe grinned back, eyes darting back to where Harry was watching them.
“Well, I have to go now.” Louis said, pursing his lips awkwardly.“Take care.”
“You too.” Joe gave a tight lipped smile.
As Louis grabbed his messenger bag, which he had left on the floor next to the doors, he gave Harry a last glance, seeing him staring back at him, expressionless as always.
Louis gave him a small nod, and left the room before he could see Harry’s response.
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“So, Louis, how’s the whole exhibition thing going?” Jade asked, taking a sip of her margarita.
“It's alright I guess,” Louis said, taking a sip of his beer.
“C’mon, there’s gotta be something more,” she insisted, leaning over the table from where she was sitting opposite of Louis on the booth.
“I mean, the pay is nice,” Louis offered, giving her a half-assed smile.
“How much?” Michael asked.
“A million,” Taylor intervened, smirking when he watched Jade and Michael’s eyebrows rise.
“Holy shit, that's a lot of money,” Michael wolf whistled.
“Yeah, it is,” Louis nodded.
“Also, the CEO is hot.” Taylor wiggled her eyebrows.
Louis gulped his beer, looking over at Niall, who was giving him a worried stare.
“I guess,” Louis shrugged.
“You should totally ask him out!” Jade squealed, excited.
“You totally should!” Taylor agreed.
“I need to go pee.” Louis said as he abruptly stood up, ignoring his friends' worried expressions. “I’ll be back in a sec.”
When he reached the bathroom he headed straight to the mirror, propping his hands on the counter as he stared at himself, his breathing getting more erratic.
He heard the door open and he tried to compose himself.
“Hi” he turned around and found Niall looking at him with a soft smile, which Louis knew was to try to comfort him.
“Been better.” Louis shrugged.
“Come here.” Niall extended his arms, inviting Louis, who hugged him instantly. “It's alright.” He patted Louis’ back. “How bad is it?”
“He’s an asshole.” Louis muttered against Niall’s chest, which made Niall laugh.
“Not surprising.” He chuckled. “At least you’re stealing his money.” Niall tried.
“Yeah.”
“Hey, it’s gonna be alright. Okay?” Niall said, which comforted Louis a lot. Niall was there when Harry left, and he was the oldest of Louis’ friends. He doesn’t know what he would have done without Niall, who helped him when he was at his lowest.
“Okay.” Louis said, believing it this time.
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A week later, Taylor was helping him take the paintings out of the van. They were going to check how they looked in the salon, and if the placing was convenient or not.
Some security guards approached them and helped them move the artworks to the main salon, being careful not to damage them as per Taylor’s instructions.
They set the paintings down on the floor, resting them against the wall. As Louis looked up, he found Joe waiting for them, same as Harry.
Taylor, ever the professional, approached both of them, extending her hand. “Hi, I’m Taylor Swift, Louis’ manager, I don’t think we’ve met in person before.”
Harry shook her hand with a firm grasp, staring at her cautiously. “Harry Styles, CEO of Brickyard,” he nodded.
She retracted her hand after the shake and went to shake Joe’s hand. Who Louis could swear he saw blush lightly.
“Joe Alwyn, head designer,” he said as he shook her hand, which lasted a lot longer than typical hand shakes.
“Well, better get to work gentlemen.” She said, turning to look at Louis. He didn’t miss the way that her eyes didn’t deter from Joe.
They started hanging his older paintings, placing them at the beginning of the room as planned. They continued placing them in the chronological order that had been stated before.
When they got to the most recent ones, the ones Louis had been working on, Louis backed away to inspect the paintings. He already had four finished, the rest in his studio, currently as blank canvases.
He felt a presence besides him. “What do you think?” he asked, not looking at them.
He had chosen to work with clear colors, playing with different tones of white, light yellow, and gray. For that specific painting, he chose to make a man. In the painting, his body was painted gray and as if he was being dragged, his chest forward and arms flanking backward. He felt a special connection to that painting. It was a representation of how he felt, how he felt dragged by his past and his memories.
When the person didn’t answer, he turned to look at them, expecting to see Taylor or even Joe beside him, but it was Harry. He was staring at him intently. He turned around in search of Taylor or Joe, and found them chatting animatedly.
Louis gulped beside him, but kept holding his gaze, feeling hypnotized by those green eyes that had made him fall all those years ago. Those eyes that had held him when he fell down, those eyes who promised him the world, only to close themselves and never look at him again, until now.
He could swear that he saw Harry’s expression change, his features less harsh, his face more relaxed. He felt as if the moment stopped, and his heart was beating so fast he thought it might burst straight out of his chest.
“You want to know what I think?” Harry asked, frowning again. Louis wanted nothing more than to smooth the frown with the pad of his fingers.
“Sure.” He shrugged, in a way he hoped came across as nonchalant. He tried to pretend that Harry’s opinion didn’t matter to him, that it didn’t affect him.
He saw Harry’s expression soften. He saw his past flash before him, Harry’s expression awfully similar to how it used to be, when they were together, when they were happy. For Louis, it felt like a different lifetime.
It was the way that Harry’s eyebrows relaxed, his frown disappearing. It was the way that he stopped tightening his lips, even if he wasn’t smiling. It was the way his eyelids dropped, adopting a calm look. It was the way that made Louis feel like he was 18 and in love again.
Harry suddenly froze, his features returning to their initial harshness, all the warmth that had peaked out of the blizzard hiding again.
“I think it's decent, at most.” Harry avoided his gaze.
“What?” Louis asked, hurt lacing his voice, making a slight attempt at concealing it.
“I mean, it’s kind of mediocre. I had expected more to be honest.” Harry still wouldn’t meet his eyes, because if he did, he would see the blue of Louis’ eyes break. “I really should have listened when they told me not to hire you.”
“Fuck you.” Louis’ voice wavered, his eyes watered and his bottom lip quivered. He was angry at Harry, but most of all at himself, had he not learned anything at all? He turned around and walked off to the entrance.
He saw there were people at the lobby when he tried to get out of the building, so instead he turned around and headed to a darker hallway the opposite direction, not wanting people to see him on the verge of crying.
As he was making his way towards the hallway, he felt a hand grip his arm, and he turned around, finding Harry again.
“What are you doing? Let go of me!” He tried to free himself from Harry’s grasp, but it felt like fighting with a wall.
“Stop it, you’re making a scene.” He said as he dragged the both of them into the hallway, where they were free of prying eyes. Once they reached it, Harry let go of Louis’ arm.
“What do you want?” Louis sniffed, crossing his arms and putting himself in a defensive stand.
“Will you stop being a baby?” Harry rolled his eyes at him.
“Will you stop being insensible? Just hire someone else, I don’t give a shit about your stupid money.” Louis snapped. “Lets see if they can stand working with you.”
Harry clenched his fists.
“You know, I tried to tell myself you were different, that you matured. But you are still the same arrogant piece of shit.”
“Shut up.” Harry growled.
“Hasn’t leaving taught you something, or are you that thick that you don’t understand anything?” Louis mocked. “No one’s gonna love you like that.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Harry scowled, breathing heavily.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m sure you’re gonna find someone very nice, who will love you very much, and then you’ll just leave them. Isn’t that what you do?”
“Shut up!” He fumed. Harry looked like he was ready to burst into flames. His whole chest was moving as he breathed heavily, and his fists were clenched so tightly his knuckles turned completely white.
“Or what? You’ll leave”? Louis defied. That seemed to be the breaking point for Harry. He surged forward, caging Louis against the wall, and took his hand straight to Louis’ throat, pressing strongly.
Louis was expecting to be hit, but instead of that, Harry smashed his lips against his. The feeling was one that he knew all too well. Harry might have changed in most ways, but he kissed the same. The feeling was all consuming, and Louis immediately kissed back.
For a moment, it felt like they never were apart, like they belonged together again, like they were in love again. Harry took his free arm and wrapped it around Louis’ waist, and inched his body closer to the other man. Louis draped his arms around Harry’s neck, and brought one of his hands to Harry’s hair.
The sensation was familiar, and so was the tongue that roamed his mouth once he parted it. He felt himself be lifted by his thighs, which he then wrapped around Harry. Louis felt high, like he was floating, he felt like he was coming home.
Harry separated their mouths, and latched his mouth onto Louis’ neck, sucking with fervor. Louis could only try to suppress his whimpers and cling to Harry like a vice. He pulled at Harry’s hair, inching him closer to his neck, who was burning with the way Harry was abusing it.
Harry inspected his work, and went back to pressing their mouths together. After a long kiss, they parted their lips from each other and rested his forehead on Louis’. He could feel Harry’s heartbeat underneath his hands, and he could tell it was going incredibly fast, just like his own.
Harry stared at his eyes while Louis did the same to him. And something shook in Harry, who pulled away from Louis, as if burned. Without Harry supporting him, Louis fell to the floor, groaning at the impact.
The floor felt cold against his skin as he stared up at Harry, a mixture of hurt and confusion on his face.
“This was a mistake.” Harry declared, slipping his stone demeanor back on. With that he turned around and left, leaving Louis staring at his retreating figure.
-----------------
A loud knock interrupted Louis as he was painting. It was raining, which consequently inspired Louis.
He was finishing the fifth painting, only having two more to complete. And he was trying to end it all as fast as he could. The knocking persisted, in fact, it got stronger and more frantic.
“I’m coming, jeez.” Louis muttered, walking to the front door. He was confused as to who it could be, since he isn’t supposed to be working at the moment, it being eleven pm. He briefly thought about it being a serial killer, and considered pretending there was no one in the room, but he discarded the idea once remembering he had already called out to the person.
He opened the door with caution, coming face to face with a drenched Harry Styles. He felt his whole body freeze, surprise etched on his face. His first reaction to the image was anger, wanting to turn him away because of how he treated him the other day.
He opened his mouth to tell him that and kick him out, but upon getting a better look at him, he saw something he remembered better than he wanted. Harry looked sad, no, he looked pained. Louis’ mouth parted, confusion painted over his features, but he closed his mouth quickly.
Before he could think better of it, he turned to his side to let Harry into the studio. The man got in, but stood near the door, not wanting to get water all over. Without a word, Louis turned to one of his closets and extracted one of the towels he used to try to clean himself of paint. He handed the towel to Harry, who took it hesitantly.
“The bathroom’s over there, the shower has hot water, and I can lend you some clothes.” Louis turned to the same closet and took out some of the extra clothes he stored, in case his got ruined by paint. He had an oversized hoodie he figured might fit Harry, and some big sweatpants he bought two sizes too big by accident and was too lazy to return. He handed the clothing to Harry, turned around and headed back to his canvas.
He watched Harry through his peripheral vision, and saw how he lingered before heading to the bathroom, a perplexed expression on his face.
He continued painting, and when he had to stop to wait for the paint to dry before he could add the next layer, he headed to the little table where he had his boiler and his tea bags. He set the boiler and took two mugs out of the cupboard, placing a bag on each of them. When the water finished boiling, he poured the water and went to get the cream for Harry, not for himself. He cursed himself for still remembering perfectly how Harry liked his tea.
He left the mugs to cool down before he went back to his painting. He felt Dalí rub against his ankle and picked her up, rocking her in his arms back and forth, an action he knew calmed her down.
Harry came out of the bathroom while he was rocking her, making them both turn their heads at the sound. The man sat down on the couch behind Louis, who walked towards the table, Dalí still in his arms, and handed Harry his tea, who took it hesitantly. For a moment, their fingers touched, and Louis could swear he felt goosebumps line his skin, so he quickly turned away.
He went back to his palette, putting Dalí down on the floor carefully, who meowed in annoyance. He gave a small giggle at her antics.
“Thanks,” a mumble broke the silence. He turned to Harry. “For the tea, it’s perfect. Also for letting me stay here.”
Louis pressed his lips together and gave a curt nod. He turned towards his painting again, inspecting it. As he painted, he felt Harry’s eyes on him again, but he tried to ignore them.
“What’s his name?” Harry asked, gaze fixed on Dalí, who was eyeing him skeptically.
“Her name’s Dalí.” Louis smiled at his cat, before turning around and returning to his painting.
Knowing Harry, well, at least knowing the old Harry, he preferred to talk when something was upsetting him, letting Louis comfort him and reassure him. But he figured that Harry might prefer silence.
After he finished his painting, he took a step back, inspecting it. As he did that he felt a presence besides him again, but decided to ignore it.
“You’ve gotten better using gouache.” Harry commented, observing the painting.
“Well, four years of art school does that to a person.” Louis shrugged nonchalantly.
“You went to art school?” Harry asked, looking at him with wide eyes and a disbelieving expression. It was a drastic change from his apathetic composure.
“Yeah, I did.” Louis felt uncomfortable with the subject, mainly because Harry knew that getting into art school had always been his dream. And when he did get in, it felt incomplete and wrong not being able to tell Harry about it.
“Oh my god, congratulations!” Harry said, smiling widely, excitement clear on his expression.
The sight made Louis freeze. For a brief moment, he was 18 again, talking about his dreams with Harry, both laying on their bed, looking at the worn out glow in the dark stars they had pasted and pretending to stargaze. But the illusion turned bitter quickly, an ugly reminder instead of a comforting one.
“Thanks,” Louis said, averting his gaze.
“When did you start going?” Harry had what Louis could clearly identify as genuine interest in his voice, catching Louis off guard.
“Around four years ago.” Louis rubbed his forearm with his palm, fidgeting. “I got there on a scholarship.”
“Wow, that’s amazing, I’m proud of you.” Harry searched for his eyes again. His words made Louis stare directly at him, trying to pretend those words didn’t affect him as much as they did. He felt warmth pool on his stomach.
“Thanks.” Louis said as he tried to avoid eye contact.
“What happened after you graduated?”
“I started working on this shitty store, and then Taylor sort of discovered me, and the rest is history.”
The man listened carefully to the words Louis was saying, shocking him by showing what he recognized as genuine interest and curiosity.
They stood in agonizing silence for a while, a tension creeping under their skins. Finally Harry ended the silence with a loud sight, taking enough air that one might think that he was running out of it. The sound was strong enough for Louis to direct his eyes to him with curiosity. “Look, Louis, I’m really sorry about what I said the other day. It was completely untrue, I lost my temper and it won’t happen again,” Harry said, looking at the floor.
“It’s alright. What about you? What has been in your life?” He tried to deviate from their interaction in the salon.
“I started working in a sales company, I met this guy at a bar who hired me for the job. I got pretty good at marketing and business in general. I got promoted, and then they offered me the title of CEO in Brickyard.” The man shrugged.
“That’s great Harry, I’m happy for you.” He said, surprising himself with the sincerity of his words. “You must have gotten pretty loaded,” he teased, nudging Harry before he could think better.
Harry looked down towards where they had touched. “Yeah, I guess,” Harry shrugged.
“Congratulations, that was what you wanted all along, wasn’t it?” Bitterness found its way to Louis’ tongue.
“Yeah, it was.” Harry was staring straight ahead, looking at the painting, but Louis guessed it had more to do with him trying to avoid Louis’ gaze.
“You must be happy.” Louis gave a forced smile, watching how Harry tensed at his words.
There was silence, so Louis figured that the conversation was over, and he grabbed his brushes to take them to the sink.
“Not really,” a whisper made him turn around.
“Why not? You are a successful man, head of a major hotel chain, and you’re rich. That's what you longed for.” It didn’t come out as a question as it did an affirmation. He knew that was what he wanted, that was the reason he left after all.
“I did, but I was wrong, it was all a mistake.” He turned to Louis again.
“I don’t understand.” Louis furrowed his brow and tilted his head to the side.
“I got the money, I got the job, I got the success, but there is something missing.” He studied Louis’ features again. Hesitantly, he lifted one of his hands and rested it on his cheek.
If Louis was a smarter person, he would have stopped the touch, but there was a longing that he couldn’t deny. He leaned into the hand, the touch making him feel like he was floating, the familiar hand rubbing circles against his cheekbone.
“What is it?”
“You.”
“What?” Louis’ eyebrows furrowed further, taking a step backwards and detaching himself from the touch.
“It’s you that's missing. It's the lack of you that makes me unhappy.” Harry whispered, making his vulnerability visible since Louis saw him again. He looked at Louis with an unknown glint in his eye, one that Louis wasn’t able to identify. Louis felt his blood run cold, and just as quickly boil again, Harry had no right to say that to him.
“Well it's not my fault, is it?” Louis crossed his arms, glaring at the taller man.
“I never said it was,” Harry stumbled over his words.
“You have no right to say that.” Louis pointed an accusing finger at him. “Not when that action you’re regretting is the one that caused the lowest point of my fucking life. Not when your selfish actions left me miserable.”
Harry stood in front of him, at a loss of words. Mouth agape and body shrinking into himself.
“You fucking left me! And now you come here, telling me that you miss me and that I’m the reason you’re unhappy.” Louis screamed at him, face red from anger. “I won’t put up with your bullshit, not again. So get the fuck out.”
“Lou.” Harry murmured, pained.
“Don’t call me that, only people I care about call me that.” Louis sent him a stone cold glare. “I won’t ask again, get the fuck out or I’ll call the security guard.”
Harry walked towards the door, opening it and getting out. He opened his mouth to say something but was silenced by Louis throwing his soaked clothes back at him and slamming the door shut on his face.
As soon as the door closed and Harry could no longer see him, his anger dissipated, turning into panic. He started breathing erratically, holding onto his chest, feeling suffocated. Tears were streaming down his face, and his resolve broke again. He sank to the floor and sobbed, Dalí approaching him gently.
“Oh Dalí I’m so so fucked.”
--------------
Louis felt elegant in his suit. It was tailored for him, which was something very unfamiliar to Louis, but he needed to remind himself that he had the money, and that he needed the suit for the opening of the exhibition.
He was surrounded by his friends, who he invited to the exhibition. They were all dressed formally, and he could say they all looked pretty good.
He had only managed to get a hold of friends a few moments ago, when he was able to escape from the grasp of people who think they know about art giving him their opinion on his paintings.
He had been purposefully avoiding Harry like the plague, and that didn’t escape Niall’s prying eyes. He could tell that Niall was angry at Harry for upsetting him.
He could stop the glimpse he caught of Harry, who was looking mouthwatering in his tuxedo. The fabric only seemed to accentuate Harry’s physique, making Louis have to physically stop himself from staring any longer.
“Ladies and gentlemen, '' Harry announced, making the crowd fall to silence. “I want to thank you all for coming here today to admire the breathtaking art of Louis Tomlinson.'' He said this while looking directly at him, and Louis, eyes on him, could do nothing but stare back.
“I want to thank him personally for agreeing to this exhibition, and for letting us sponsor him.” Harry continued, never breaking eye contact. “I’ll let you get back to your activities.”
Louis looked at his friends with an uncomfortable demeanor. But his friends were all clapping, happy for him. Except Niall, who was looking at Harry cautiously.
“Let's not let him ruin our night.” Louis said as he got closer to Niall. And that’s what they did.
The night passed in a haze of expensive champagne, laughter and jokes about the pretentious rich people roaming around the room.
He felt weightless, careless, but not in a snobby kind of way, but more in a free kind of way. He always felt that way around his friends, them being one of the biggest rocks in his life, the people he knew would always be there for him, people he considered family at that point.
His eyes crinkled and his stomach ached from how much he was laughing. It served as an ideal distraction from the Harry situation, which he was thankful for. But that distraction was broken when he turned his head from his friends to stare at a woman whose lip fillers they were discussing, when he found Harry looking directly at him.
His stare was the most unidentifiable that Louis had found so far. There was something in his eyes, but it wasn’t his usual seriousness, it was something more, it was emotion peeking from under the mask that he had built around himself. But the emotion behind his eyes is one Louis couldn’t decipher, although it seemed familiar.
He used to be able to read Harry like an open book, having memorized all of his expressions, the way his eyes gleamed, the way he pursed his mouth, the way he frowned, the way he talked. But that was all in the past.
Harry’s eyes were a mixture of emotions Louis knew, it had a bit of longing on his eyes, and a bit of amazement on them too. He returned to his conversation when Jade asked him something, which Louis wasn’t able to respond due to his lack of attention to the conversation.
At one point, he was throwing his head backwards laughing at something Michael had said when he noticed that Niall was leaving their little circle.
“Where are you going?” Louis asked Niall before he could get far.
“I have to use the bathroom.” He said with a fake smile adorning his lips. Louis watched Niall’s retreating back, and went to turn his head away and into the conversation again when he saw Niall approach Harry, who was chatting with some old men that you could visibly tell had a lot of money.They seemed to talk in what didn’t look like the friendliest conversation, and then both turned their backs and headed towards the exit.
Dread filled his stomach, not wanting Niall to start a scene. He told his friends that he also needed to use the bathroom as he followed the both of them, seeing that they had gone to the dark hallway. The one he had gone to when he was looking to escape Harry, the one where he kissed Harry, the same one he had gotten hurt again.
He walked cautiously, hiding behind one of the walls, with a limited view of what was going on. He wasn't able to listen to their conversation, due to the noise coming from inside the hall.
He could see Niall saying something to Harry, jabbing his pointer finger at him. The taller man just crossed his arms. He could tell that the blonde’s words were increasing in speed, his resolve crumbling into an infuriated one. Harry kept his arms crossed, and Louis could tell he was faking disinterest and trying to appear like he was not affected, but the clench in his jaw was evident for him. His friend's face was getting red, and Louis would not be surprised to see smoke come out his ears. Something Niall said dissolved the composure Harry was trying to maintain, and he uncrossed his arm and instead clenched his fists on his sides.
It was like a bomb waiting to blow off, like a catastrophe waiting to happen. Louis felt powerless, not intervening though he wanted to. Their voices were increasing in volume, and Louis could start to make out what they were saying.
“...do you really think you could change? C’mon, don’t be so stupid, you’re the same person. You’re still the same selfish and egotistical person. Ever wondered why you don’t have any friends?” Niall raised his voice.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Harry gritted his teeth and his fists were so clenched that his knuckles had turned white.
“C’mon Styles, it's obvious, you have no one. No one. And you never will, and even if you do, you’ll just leave them. That’s what you do, right?” Niall smirked, noticing how his words were affecting Harry. “You just leave people, you just leave until you have no one left to bail on.”
“Shut up!” Harry fisted Niall’s suit and pinned him to the wall, his breathing erratic and loud.
His scream turned heads, whose curiosity peaked. Louis, with his heart beating and panic written on his face, rushed towards the pair.
“Stop!” he screamed, “what the hell are you doing?” he snarled at Harry, who looked surprised. “Let him go.”
Harry obliged, dropping Niall with a shove. He looked at Louis with his chest going up and down, his mouth pursed and his eyes fierce.
Louis rushed to Niall’s side, ignoring Harry standing beside him. He helped his friend stand to his feet.
“Are you okay?” Louis grabbed Niall’s face, turning it to the side to inspect if he had any sort of bruises. He had his eyebrows furrowed with worry.
“It's okay Lou, I’m all right.” Niall whispered softly, grabbing Louis’ hands that were resting on his face with his own. “Let’s go home, we’ll just text the rest that I’m not feeling well and you helped me get home.”
Louis nodded and turned around, walking towards the exit alongside Niall, who draped his arm around his waist, an action Louis mirrored as well.
As much as he wanted to stop himself from doing it, he couldn’t help himself from turning his head back towards where Harry was. Harry was still standing in the same place, frozen. He had a look on his face that Louis recognized as hurt. That look on him Louis knew well, it was the same from when they were young.
“Lou?” He turned his head back forward again when Niall called him, breaking his haze.
-----------
“That was unnecessary.” Louis said, sitting on his couch once he and Niall had made themselves comfortable in Louis' house.
“I don’t think so.” Niall snorted, sipping from his beer.
“Niall, I don't need someone to stand up for me.” Louis said, seriously.
“I know that Lou, I just couldn’t help it.” Niall sighed, straightening himself and placing his beer on the coffee table that was in front of the couch. “I just couldn’t stand the thought of him hurting you again. I remember how bad it got when he left, it was like a part of you left with him. Your glow, your joy, your sunshine left.”
Louis listened to him with glassy eyes, tears threatening to spill at the memory. “I did lose a part of myself. I did, but I gained it back, I got myself back. It hurt, like a bitch, but I survived. And that helped me be more aware of people, of how they are.” Louis took his knees to his chest and rested his chin on top of them. “I like to believe that my judgment has gotten better, and that I can take care of myself.”
“You can, you definitely can. You are one of the strongest people I know. I just….wanted to avoid you hurting again.”
“I know Ni, and I don’t resent you for it.” Louis smiled, “come here you goof.”
He laughed when Niall launched himself on top of him, crushing him into the couch.
--------------
The sky was orange as Louis stared at it from the window of his studio. Sunsets never failed to make a calm wash over him. He saw the colors dance in front of him, and the dim light caressed his face gently. Beside him was Dalí, laying on the floor and enjoying the sun as well. She looked elegant as she extended her paws in a stretching manner.
Louis felt relieved at having finished his partnership with Brickyard, no longer having to deal with Harry and his past wounds. But deep down inside him, there was a part of himself that was disappointed in not being able to see him anymore.
It didn´t matter how much he reminded himself that Harry left him for good, that he wouldn’t come back. Even if he knew where Harry was, that didn’t mean they would go back to being together. He sighted, finding comfort in the sun hiding between buildings.
As orange turned into purple, he heard a faint knock on his door. He figured it was the delivery guy bringing him the pad thai he had ordered. He rushed to his wallet, extracting the money and went towards the door.
He opened the door with a greeting smile, one which quickly evaporated. It felt like it was starting to be a routine. Harry was at his door again. Louis knew that he should turn him away, but when noticing the tears that were starting to spill from the man’s eyes, he stood frozen.
“Harry, what are you doing here?” He tried to keep his voice calm, and tried to hide how his hands twitched, wanting to comfort the man.
“Can I come in?” Sensing the hesitance in Louis, he pleaded. “Please.”
Sighing, Louis opened the door wider so that he could get inside the studio.
“Did you want anything?” Louis crossed his arms and leaned against the counter, looking at Harry with uncertainty.
“Louis, I can’t keep doing this.” Harry blurted, making Louis furrow his brows.
“Doing what”
“Pretending.” He breathed, tilting his head upwards in an attempt to pause the tears. “All I do is pretend, pretend I’m happy, pretend I’m okay, pretend it's not killing me.”
“What is killing you?” Louis furrowed his brows, worry coating his voice instead of displeasure.
“You, you kill me. Seeing you kills me. You look so beautiful all the time, it's like you’re mocking me.” Harry fisted his hair. “I hate my life, I hate it, I hate it.”
Louis looked at him with darting eyes.
“I had it, I had it Lou. I had it in my hands. Maybe I didn’t have much money, but I had it.” Harry started pacing around the studio, mumbling.
“Had what?” Louis uncrossed his arms and approached him slowly.
“You, I had you.” Harry sobbed “I had you and I was happy, but I wanted more, I wanted more and I ended up having nothing.”
Louis stood speechless.
“I threw it all away. And I regret it, I regret it so much, Lou.” Harry kept sobbing, and when Louis got closer to him he immediately latched onto him, clutching his waist as he cried into his hair.
“It's okay, let it all out.” Louis rubbed Harry’s back. His rational part was screaming at him to run, to leave, but he knew that Harry was telling the truth.
“I love you, I never stopped.” Harry clutched Louis tighter.
Louis nuzzled into his neck, the words bringing memories into him again.
Harry made space between them, taking one hand to Louis’ cheek. Louis looked up at him, eyes glossy, matching the other man’s. Louis couldn’t contain it anymore, he stood up on his tiptoes and smashed their lips together. It was nothing like the other kiss, although both of them were filled with desperation, but this one was a longing one, a loving kiss, instead of a passionate and heated kiss. Harry kissed him back with the same vigor. Their tears mixed, their eyes still watering throughout the kiss. Harry broke the kiss first, resting his forehead on Louis’.
“I love you, Louis,” Harry whispered.
Louis could swear he felt the love as their bodies touched.
“I know you stopped loving me a while ago, when I made the worst mistake of my life, but I would give anything for you to let me make you fall in love again. For us to be together again.”
“Okay.”
“Really? Oh my god.” Harry broke into one of the biggest grins Louis had ever seen. The man picked him up and started spinning him around, making Louis erupt in giggles.
“I promise you I will make this right.” Harry mumbled into his lips.
“I trust you.” Louis whispered back.
Two years later
“Honey, I’m home!” Harry shouted as he closed the front door.
They decided to move into Louis’ place; it being more cozy and lively than Harry’s million dollar mansion. It was a rocky path, filled with tears, but they made it. It took a while for Niall to be okay with Harry being in their lives again, and he was still hesitant two years later. But Harry liked to think that they made progress.
“Baby, where are you?” Harry called as he walked up the stairs towards the master bedroom. “Louis?”
“I’m here!” he heard a voice coming from the bathroom. “I have something for you.”
Harry smiled at his antics. “Sit down,” the man obliged and sat down on the bed, getting rid of his suit jacket and loosening his tie, which was uncomfortable against his skin.
Louis appeared from the bathroom wearing a pink satin robe and a playful smirk. He slowly took his hand to the knot that was holding the robe and loosened it.
Harry looked at him with a smug smirk, knowing what would entail, but the smirk was wiped off his face once the robe hit the floor.
Louis was clad only on a red lingerie set. Garters securing his panties to the stockings he was wearing, and a small lacy bralette on his torso. He was wearing a red choker with a little bow on top, and Harry could only think about replacing the necklace with his hand.
It was Louis’ turn to smirk at Harry’s expression, giggling as he made his way to where Harry was sitting on the bed, with his legs spread. He placed his hands on Harry’s knees, leaning forward. Harry inclined himself forward, pressing their faces closer, and then tried closing the distance between their mouths, but Louis pulled back before they could touch. Frowning, Harry surged forwards again and Louis pulled back in result, smirking. Tired of it, Harry firmly grabbed Louis’ face, squishing his cheeks together, making his lips pucker. The man then proceeded to devour his boyfriend’s lips, who could only whimper in response.
Louis stood pliant in Harry’s hold, a common occurance whenever they were intimate. Louis started squirming, wanting more of Harry’s touch and affection, which only made the man smirk.
“What's wrong baby?” Harry caressed his boyfriend’s cheek smugly, knowing exactly what was wrong.
“Want you.” Louis whined, sitting back on his knees.
“Do you now? I barely touched you and now you’re so desperate for it.” Harry fake cooed. “You really are a little slut, aren’t you?”
“Yes, yes, yes, I’m your slut.” Louis chanted, mind hazy with desire. Harry treated Louis like royalty most of the time, the only exception was when they were fucking.
“Take my cock out.” Louis scrambled forward and undid his zipper in the blink of an eye, too turned on to be ashamed of his eagerness. The blue eyed man stares with lustful eyes. He knew better than to touch it, so he looked up at Harry with wide pleading eyes.
“Open your mouth.” Harry fisted his cock and guided it to Louis' mouth, which had opened instantly and had his pink tongue out. He let out a sight of content when he felt the weight of Harry’s cock on his tongue, enjoying the salty taste it left.
Harry couldn’t help but caress his boyfriend’s cheek, causing the latter to raise his gaze towards Harry. He looked fucked already.
Upon receiving a nod from Harry, Louis started swirling his tongue around the head of Harry’s cock. Louis started bobbing his head and hollowing his cheeks. He didn’t break eye contact, which he knew that Harry loved. His eyes started to water, making his blue eyes glassy.
Harry gripped Louis' hair and pulled his head out of his cock. A string of spit connected the tip of Harry’s cock to Louis' tongue. He scrambled forward, squirming in Harry’s hold, desperate to get his mouth back on his cock. Harry then took pity and grabbed the back of Louis’ head, making him choke on his cock.
As the taller man’s cock reached the back of his throat, tears began to run down his face. The blue eyed man gagged around the length, letting Harry use his mouth as he pleased.
The taller man pulled Louis’ head away from his cock with a swift motion, making his boyfriend pout. “On the bed, all fours.”
Louis quickly scattered to the bed, extending his arms and bending his knees. He arched his back and pressed his face to the mattress, presenting himself to Harry. The latter started kneading his asscheeks, giving them some rough slaps that elicited whimpers.
“Look at you, presenting yourself like a little whore. You’re just so desperate for cock, aren’t you?” He peeled the panties from Louis’ ass, throwing them on the floor carelessly once they were off. “Answer me slut.”
“I’m so desperate for your cock, sir.” Louis mewled upon earning a couple of harsh slaps to his ass.
“Of course you are, you’re just a dumb cockslut. You’re just here to be my little plaything.” The man took out the packed lube they kept in the nightstand, and upon squeezing some into his fingers, he started fingering Louis.
When he deemed Louis ready, he started impaling him with his length. Louis let out a cry at the intrusion, but it quickly became a moan when pleasure washed all over him. Harry started thrusting relentlessly quickly after. “That's it, take my cock like the whore that you are.”
Louis was full on sobbing at that point, the pleasure too intense for him to handle. The grip Harry had on his hips was strong enough for Louis to be sure that bruises would stay on his skin. “What’s the matter, toy? My cock too much for a dumb little thing like you?”
“No, no, no, no. I love…… your... Cock.” Louis’ words started slurring together. He started shouting when Harry reached his prostate. “Can I come sir? Please,” he cried.
“Come, whore,” as soon as Louis registered those words, his small dick squirted all over his belly, staining it with white.
“Turn around.” Louis obliged and laid down on his back, mind still hazy from his orgasm.
“You’re going to ride me.” The blue eyed man nodded, and sat up so that he could be straddling Harry.
He slowly sat down on the girth, his hole sensitive after his orgasm. His mouth parted in an o, and his brows furrowed in pleasure.
“Bounce.” He started bouncing on Harry’s cock, twisting his nipples while he did so. He could feel the tip of Harry’s cock nudge his prostate with every one of his bounces.
“Faster.” Harry grunted, slapping Louis' ass and gripping the cheeks with both hands in a painful hold. Louis’ bounces got faster, and by consequence, sloppier.
Harry then flipped them over, leaving Louis pinned to the mattress. He started thrusting his cock inside him, while taking both of Louis’ hands and holding them above his head with one his own.
He guided his free hand to his boyfriend’s throat, choking him slightly.
“Sir.” Louis whimpered, once again close to his orgasm. Luckily, Harry was close behind. He started biting Louis’ neck, leaving marks on it.
Louis felt the familiar sensation in his lower belly, knowing he was close to his orgasm, and judging by the sloppiness of Harry’s thrusts, he was getting close too. With a last press on his prostate, Louis came all over himself and Harry, and with a grunt, Harry released his come inside Louis.
They laid on the bed panting for a while, Louis with his eyes closed and Harry trailing patterns on his chest. “I’ll go get a rag to clean us up.”
Louis nodded absentmindedly. He felt the weight of Harry’s body being lifted from when he rested on top of him, and after a few seconds, he felt the cold press of the rag cleaning his body.
Harry threw the rag on the floor once he was finished and climbed on the bed alongside Louis. He pulled the smaller man to his chest, smiling at the content sight he left.
Harry knew how tired Louis got after they finished having sex, and loved sleeping with him after it. “Goodnight baby, I love you.”
“Mm, love you.” Louis slurred into his chest. And yeah, life was good.