Foto bij • 4.7 ~ Taking tips and getting stoned

Part 7

They eat cheese and bacon toasties in bed and Harry makes a mess of his face, which Louis laughs at before crawling into his lap and wiping the melted cheese away with his finger, licking it clean. They talk and they snog in turns, eventually going for a round two, legs wrapped together as they wank each other, breathing into each other's mouths. Louis smiles more in those few hours than he has over the past few months, honestly, he laughs more, has more fun and it's intimidating, not knowing if it's leading to anything other than another goodbye, but Louis tries his best not to think about that.
When it's after ten, Louis sighs, knowing he should leave. He wasn't even planning to be here more than a few minutes and he's definitely not prepared to stay overnight. Even though there's nothing waiting for him at home, he doesn't want to overstay his welcome. So, he insists even when Harry asks him to stay, says he has to get home. He gets dressed and lets Harry walk him to the door, where he leans back against the wall and pulls Louis close.
      “So, are you gonna show up at my door out of the blue again?” Louis smiles, kissing his jaw.
      “Worked out well for me this time, didn't it?” Harry chuckles and pulls Louis up to kiss him softly.
      “Maybe we could actually schedule something next time?” He asks quietly, a hint of nervousness in his voice. “A date, even, maybe?” Louis can't help but exhale his relief. He'd been trying so hard all night to accept that this might just be a final end to their story, the epilogue tacked onto the end, but the fierceness with which he wants more is surprising to him. He never wants anything the way he wants more time with Harry. He nods and kisses Harry again before pulling back to look him in the eye.
      “I'd like that, yeah,” he answers. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and asks Harry to add his number, then texts him to make sure Harry has his number as well. With one last lingering kiss, Louis finally opens Harry's door and steps out into the hallway.
      “Oh, wait, one more thing,” he adds in the doorway, turning back to Harry.
      “Yeah?” Harry asks, eyebrows lifted. Louis swallows and exhales, nervous again now that he's thinking of it.
      “Don't, like, read too much into Liam's album when you hear it,” he says, quirking the corner of his mouth up. “It could be about anyone.” The curiosity that comes over Harry's expression is amusing enough, but Louis really does hope he isn't freaked out by the words Louis had written. He hopes it doesn't scare him away, but it's done now, it's out there, and Louis can only wait and see.
      “That's all,” he says before Harry can say anything, then gives him one last small smile as he closes the door and makes his way down the hallway toward the elevator.
Even with the anxiety of not knowing how Harry will react to hearing their story sung out over a dozen tracks, from the first kiss to the last one, he feels happy. It's not as if he hasn't ever been happy over the past few years, but it still feels a little foreign. He has the answers he was looking for and, even if Louis didn't mean as much to Harry as Harry did to him, even if Harry was able to let him go enough to fall in love with someone else, he knows he wasn't tossed away carelessly. He was important to Harry, at least, and Louis' not going to bother measuring. When he gets outside, he hails a taxi at the kerb and wonders how such a simple thing could ever change someone's whole fucking life.

He wakes up the next morning to a series of texts sent after two in the morning and he wipes the sleep out of his eyes as he reads them, noting that they were sent several minutes apart.

Harry: Fuck
Harry: Lou..
Harry: Call me when you get these ok?
Harry: Can i see you tomorrow i need to see you
Harry: Call me....

Louis' heart trips over itself as he reads them over again and again. He decides he definitely can't call before he has some tea, so he sets about making a pot, staring at the bit of counter where Zayn would have been sitting most mornings. He misses his mate, but this, with Harry, it's more than enough of a distraction. He drinks a cup of tea, then starts in on another before he finally brings up Harry's name on his phone, tapping it and holding the phone to his ear.
      “Hello?” Harry answers on the second ring.
      “Hi,” Louis says softly, clutching his teacup tightly with his other hand.
      “Hi,” Harry says quickly, sounding anxious, then says it again, “hi.” Louis smiles nervously down at his tea, almost glad he can't see Harry's face right now and, more importantly, that Harry can't see his.
      “Erm, I got your texts.” That seems to shock Harry out of his awkward silence, the words whooshing out now, in a hurried breath.
      “Yeah, I heard it. I heard the album, I downloaded it and I listened through twice,” he rambles, the way he does when he's nervous. “I heard it and can I come over? Er, that's probably rude, but can I? See you?” Louis breathes in, trying to fill his lungs, and nods before he thinks about the fact that Harry can't see it.
      “If you want, yeah,” he says, looking around at his drab flat. “My place is a bit of a tip, but if you want, sure.”
      “I don't care, Lou,” Harry replies heavily, all breath. “I don't care, I just need to see you.” He sounds so intense, so emotional, even, maybe. He sounds desperate and Louis reads out his address, listening to Harry scratch it down on paper, and then hangs up after a promise to see him soon.
A half hour later, there's a knock on his door and, when Louis opens it, it's like one of those scenes in a fucking romcom. Harry pushes him back against the wall, kissing him hard, his hands bracing the sides of Louis' neck. He kisses him like he needs it, takes Louis' breath away completely. Louis shudders into Harry's mouth, pulling him even closer as his chest tightens. It's too much, fucking overwhelming, but he can't stop either. He practically sobs as Harry pulls Louis' bottom lip between his own, letting it go before pressing in again, harder, more needy.
      “Harry,” Louis whispers shakily, his whole body trembling with how badly he needs this, needs Harry.
      “I'm sorry,” Harry replies, his voice raspy and broken. “I'm so sorry, I'm sorry, Lou. I didn't mean to do that to you, fuck, I'm so sorry.” Louis is humiliated by the wetness of his eyes as Harry kisses him again, his fingernails dragging over Louis' neck, clinging to him. He lets out a shaky breath as the wetness spills over, tears that carry all of the pain of the last nine years and all of the hope of the present rolling down his cheeks.
      “Don't do it again,” he says, pleading. When Harry finally pulls back, Louis doesn't even try to hide the wet streaks on his face because Harry saw it all when he listened to that album. He already knows. Harry's eyes are shining wetly, too, though, and that makes Louis feel a bit less exposed.
      “I won't,” he says, shaking his head. “I won't, I'm here.” Louis feels explosions in his chest at the words and, when they kiss again, the fresh tears are pure happiness, pure relief. Louis hears a melody in his ears and he thinks that this is a song, this exact moment. Harry's hands and his lips, they feel like a fucking symphony against Louis' skin, his pulse like a drum keeping the beat and his breath like lyrics that haven't been written yet. Louis will write them, though. Someday, he'll write them all, but for now, he kisses Harry. He has so much lost time to make up for and he's not going to waste a second.


      “Smells good,” Harry murmurs, stepping up behind Louis and pressing his lips to Louis' neck. Louis smiles as he checks on the potatoes in the oven before looking at the recipe on his phone again to make sure he hasn't forgotten anything.
      “Don't distract me,” he says, feeling Harry's lips move slowly over his skin. “I need to focus or you'll all be eating dry, crispy jacket potatoes.” Harry's chuckles softly, kissing Louis' neck once more, then stepping back.
      “Could just call them chips,” he offers, just as a knock sounds at the door. “I'll get that, you focus on your potatoes, darling.” Louis flushes at the pet name, but turns to the food anyway, not wanting to burn anything. He listens as Harry greets Zayn and Niall, still so glad they all get along. Louis had told Zayn not long after Harry reappeared in his life. He'd told him the whole story, happiness and heartbreak, and Zayn had been wary of Harry at first, but it took no time at all for him to warm to the lad. And it's a relief because Louis believes it when Harry says he's not going anywhere. He actually believes it.
      “Louis has requested that he not be bothered while he's working,” Harry says in a mock whisper, just loud enough to ensure that Louis hears it. “He's very focused and can't be distracted.”
      “Yeah, because he's a bloody awful cook,” Zayn says, much louder. Harry laughs at that, the bastard, and agrees.
      “He was worse in secondary school. Tried to make macaroni and cheese without milk once. Didn't think that was an important ingredient since it's not in the title of the dish.” Louis can't help but smile, remembering that day. His mum was out of town and Harry came over for dinner with Louis and his sisters. The girls had requested macaroni and cheese and apparently Louis' interpretation wasn't acceptable. Harry had cringed sympathetically, kissing Louis on the cheek, and picked up the phone to order a pizza. Louis remembers after his sisters were all asleep, he and Harry curled up on the couch and gave each other lazy handjobs under a blanket. It was a very nice evening, all told.
      “I always forget how much you know about him,” Zayn says, pulling Louis out of his thoughts. “I forget you know things even I don't know.”
      “Sure as fuck hope so,” Niall interjects casually.
      “You all know me too bloody well,” Louis finally says over his shoulder. “Now make yourselves useful and set the table, would you?”

Ten minutes later, they're gathered around the dining room table with entirely edible burgers and jacket potatoes on their plates, talking and laughing over each other. Harry's hand slips onto Louis' knee, his thumb tracing the bones through his jeans as he laughs loudly at something Niall has said. It's as perfect a night as he could imagine, his favorite people around him, all of them having found happiness. Only Liam is missing, but Louis can't be too upset about that, knowing he's off performing across Europe, singing Louis' words in front of thousands of people. He's found his own happiness and, if Louis helped him a little along the way, that only makes it even better. Zayn and Niall stay late into the night, drinking beer after beer as they all enjoy each other's company, until they finally leave just before midnight, stumbling out the door, Louis having called them a taxi.
When Louis finally slides into his bed next to Harry, he feels like he knows him again, better than anyone. It's only been a couple of months, but he's relearned him, all of the bits he'd missed during those nine years. He knows about Harry's ex-husband, how he'd spotted Harry playing a small gig and picked him up. How Harry had already started feeling lost in the big city and how he gravitated toward the self-assured man in the expensive suit. How he really did love him, and how quickly that love faded. Louis smiles as Harry curls up against him, nuzzling into his neck, both of them pleasantly buzzed.
      “I know it's different for us, how we got here,” he says softly, tracing the slight bumps of Harry's spine with his fingers, “and I know we're probably in different places now. So, it's okay if you don't say anything, okay?” Harry lifts his head away from Louis neck, eyes big and practically sparkling in the darkness as he waits.
      “But you should know I'm in love with you,” Louis finishes, whispering it like a secret. “Still, maybe. Or again. I'm not sure, but I'm sure that I'm absolutely in love with you now, H.” Harry stares back, his eyes growing even bigger and a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
      “Lou,” he says, hesitating.
      “I know,” Louis says quickly before he can say anything else. “I know, you don't have to say anything. I just wanted you to know.” Harry hesitates for another moment before he leans in, pressing his lips to Louis' softly, holding them there for a few seconds as they kiss slowly. When he pulls back, he brings a hand to the side of Louis' head, his thumb stroking gently over the feathered skin at the corner of his eye.
      “I fell in love with you again when you showed up at my door,” he whispers. “I fell again that day, probably that moment.” Louis feels completely overwhelmed by Harry's words, can't even believe how everything has worked out. It's intimidating knowing that everything he ever really cared about, everything he ever wanted with any kind of passion, he has it all now. He feels like a teenager, an energy rushing through him, buzzing under his skin. He feels like he's got stars in his eyes and butterflies fluttering in his stomach. Smiling, he glances down at Harry's tattoo. Change. Rebirth. A new start. As he presses a smiling kiss to Harry's lips, that's exactly what it feels like.


Laatste stukje van deel 4.
In deel 5 is Louis een acteur en speelt een musical,
en Harry helpt hem met de kostuums, dat alles goed verloopt.
Have fun

Reacties (4)

  • EvaSalvatore

    Ik was vergetem hoeveel ik van jou schrijfstijl hou...
    Dit verhaal was zo fucking goed.. ik geloof dat ik ze allemaal meerdere malen heb gelezen maar deze blijft favoriet samen met het hotel!


    1 jaar geleden
  • louisharry


    5 jaar geleden
  • AllDayDreams

    Die sms'jes!!!
    MY GOD!!!
    Die waren echt zo ongelooflijk.... AAAAAGGGGHHHH!!!

    5 jaar geleden
  • kaleidoscoop


    En jaaaaaa ze zijn zo cute en happy en in hetzelfde appartement en ugh i love it

    5 jaar geleden

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