the light's on but nobody's home || l.s

viii

harry

he's panting.

all he can hear are his loud and heavy steps, his legs running faster and faster. the chilling breeze of the night doesn't leave him cold, the darkness of the forest doesn't bother him at all.

the leaves crushing beneath his feet don't give him the tranquility he usually gets whenever he steps on dead leaves. the owls calling him out, watching him from within the shadows don't scare him at all. nothing matters to him right now but to run as far away as he can from his stupid humongous grand mansion. and louis.

louis.

it pains harry just thinking about the way he caresses him so gently, his touch, his kiss; him.

•••

louis

as he walks out of the bathroom, the smell of cologne and alcohol overwhelms him once again.

damn, there's so many people.

"niall! niall!" louis calls out as he sees the cheery irish tatter along with his friends, talking about football and whatnot, you know, just laddy lads talking about lad things.

"louis, where have you been? i was looking for you everywhere. hey, have you seen zayn-"

shut up and listen to me, he wants to say.

"have you seen harry?" he says it in a calm manner, not wanting niall to get suspicious of him.

"uh, yeah, i think he went out the back door. what's wrong? everything alright man?"

"i'll talk to you later, okay? thanks." and off he goes searching for his damsel in distress.

it doesn't take him long to push through the people, mumbling insincere "sorry's" and "excuse me's".  there's only a few people lingering outside, some couples kissing and getting it on but no curly haired beautifully dressed harry to be seen.

from afar he can see the vast forest that surrounds the mansion, the gleaming moonlight dancing over the serenity of the night.

he couldn't possibly go through there.

but then again, he's harry. of course he went through the forest.

with a sigh, he runs down into the woods, hoping he'll find harry. alive.

•••

harry

harry stops to take a breather, feeling the oakwood on the tips of his fingers, hissing when he feels the sharp touch of wood penetrate through his skin.

nice, a fucking splinter.

he sucks the blood. and as much as he hates the metallic taste that meets his tongue, he manages to take the piece of wood out. it stings, but it's nothing. it's nothing.

it's freezing, he finally realizes. it's so fucking cold and he wishes he had never left the mansion at all. stupid little harry removed his coat as he was running away from louis.

louis.

blue eyed, dainty, kind hearted, soft and caring louis.

harry ruminates about everything that louis is. more specifically, why he's doing what he's doing. why he's being so kind to him. they barely know each other. why does he care? what does he want?

and then it hit him.

of course all louis ever wanted from harry was his money. his popularity. his body.

he would never truly love harry for who he really is.

no one does. no one ever has.

the sound of the night fills his ears, the cold air drying his tears quicker than usual. the wound has dried up thanks to his vampiric skills. the night is still young as the moon illuminates his face. he feels peaceful, yet broken.

and empty. so, so empty.

just then he hears the rustling sound of footsteps. as evil as this may sound but truthfully he wants to turn around to find a creepy stalker with a knife stabbed into his chest just so his life can finally come to an end and his misery will die down, but deep inside he also wants to turn around to find the blue eyed boy he still has hope in loving.

auspiciously, he finds the latter.

"oh my god harry what the hell are you doing out here! my legs are killing me i swear-" it's louis. his hair is messy and his face is slightly glazed with sweat. the moonlight makes him look shiny. cheeks red, dry lips, he's panting. he ran all the way here. to see harry.

"louis."

"harry. are you... are you alright? did i do something wrong?" no he didn't. he's done nothing but treat him with utmost kindness.

stop. he doesn't love you, styles.

"louis, i'm so sorry for running off like that but you have to go. please, leave me here."

"but harry-"

"just go! i'll be fine." no he won't. not without louis beside him.

"harry i'm worried about you. can you please tell me what's wrong?" harry can't get himself to even look at louis' eyes, afraid that they would show the sincerity that contradicted his cruel thoughts earlier.

"don't worry. i'm fine."

"well, you're making it hard for me not to worry," he says it while rubbing his face, a slight irritated tone evident in his words.

"can you just stop? it's not like you really care about me anyway!" the cold air can't seem to dry his tears any faster now.

complete silence. even the owls have stopped "who-ing". the crickets, well, they're cricketing alright. at least in harry's mind they are.

harry musters up enough courage to look at louis. his eyes, they're glimmering, tears threatening to fall. his face is unreadable, like a mixture of sadness and anger and disbelief.

as if harry had said something wrong.

"but i do," louis finally says.

"you... care about me?"

louis just nods. his eyes are sincere. the way he's biting his lips so hard to stop them from drying up makes harry want to kiss him so bad.

so he does.

they kiss for the second time tonight.

this time it's slow, it's passionate and it's true. it's emotional and it's filled with sadness and need. it's not lust but it's heartfelt.

the warmth that spreads throughout their body reminds them that it's still freezing out there. louis pulls away and caresses harry's cheek, smiling ever so genuinely.

"it's fucking freezing out here isn't it? i suppose we head in, shall we?" harry laughs at louis' rhetorical question.

"why of course, my dear," he answers with a cheeky smile, his conspicuous dimples prominent.

they leisurely walk down the trail of dead leaves and branches, hand in hand, back to the mansion.