me, him, and the moon ☾ l.s.

eleven - a sequel to presenting

Louis had snuck into Harry's room that very night, long after Harry fell asleep. He had crawled into bed beside his boyfriend and tangled Harry's warm body up with his own. He had smiled to himself as Harry mumbled his name in his sleep before settling contentedly against Louis's side, burrowing into the crook of the older boy's arm.

For the first time in his life, Louis's heart had felt completely full.

But as soon as he started to wake up in the morning, he knew that something was wrong. He couldn't explain it . . . but at the same time, he knew. He just knew. The smell. The unfamiliar heat of Harry's skin, warm and sweaty against his own. In a flash, Louis untangled his limbs from Harry's and scrambled out of bed, fighting to ignore the boy's quiet whines of protest. He rushed out the door and slammed it shut, surely waking Harry in the process.

"Harry?" he called out immediately through the closed door, pressing himself against the wall on the opposite side of the hallway. His breathing had turned ragged and unsteady, his chest rising and falling unevenly as he forced himself not to burst back into the room.

The scent was unbearable. Like the trees that made up the forest beside their town and cool, fresh water from the river, and . . . chamomile flowers. Louis groaned, his hand flying up to his face to cover his mouth and nose.

He heard the younger boy's footsteps padding quietly across the room. "Lou, what's going on? I don't feel good," Harry complained, his sleepy voice muffled through the door.

The handle started to turn and Louis jumped to grab it with his free hand, holding it still. "Harry, lock the door. Lock the door right now, and don't unlock it. Not even if I ask you to." He could already sense his self control starting to waver.

A pause. "Why? What's going on?"

"Just do it, H. Please, just trust me."

Louis heard the lock click, and relief washed over him. He slumped back against the wall, his heart still pounding erratically in his chest. He had never smelled anything so sweet, so tempting . . . and this was Harry.

Harry, who hadn't given him any sort of "okay" to help him through his heat. Harry, who hadn't even known he was getting his heat. Harry, who was presenting as an omega without warning. Louis slammed his open palm against the wall, frustration seeping from every inch of his skin.

"L-Lou?" Harry's voice sounded small and scared, almost like a child. "Lou, what's happening to me? I don't feel good. I don't like it."

"It's okay, baby. Everything's going to be okay," Louis tried to reassure him, keeping his tone as warm and steady as he could given his own state of panic. He exhaled sharply before explaining gently, "You're presenting, H. You're going into heat for the first time."

"I-I'm what?"

"You're an omega, Harry. You're presenting."

The moment seemed surprisingly tender, even with a locked door between them. Despite the confusion and chaos overtaking his mind and body, Louis ultimately felt so, so proud. Proud that Harry was his, and that he continued to prove over and over again how special he truly was.

The silence on the other side of the door set all of Louis's nerves on end. "Everything okay, H?"

"I-It hurts," Harry admitted shakily, sniffling quietly. "W-Why does it hurt, Lou? Is it supposed to hurt?" And then: "Can you make it stop, Lou? Please, can you make it stop hurting?"

"Fuck, I can't do this," Louis muttered angrily under his breath, tugging on the ends of his hair with utter frustration. "I'm just going to be right back, sweetheart, okay?" he called through the door. Harry just whined in response, his tone growing needier and needier as his scent grew stronger and stronger. "I'll be back before you even know I'm gone."