The Sculpture and The Sculptured (l.s)

ten

It's the middle of the night when Harry's woken up by the sound of heavy stomps and huffs— sounds only familiar with a horse. Being that he isn't close to the stables, he approaches his door with confusion. When he opens it, he finds Louis smiling down at him from the top of a horse. Although it's coat is black, the moonlight sparkled off of it beautifully to display how well the horse is cared for. It's muscular, lean, and its hair lays effortlessly.

"Louis." Harry whispers as his lover holds a hand out to him. "What?"

"Get on." The muse orders.

"I will not!" Harry slowly approaches the horse, and the large animal sniffs him before turning its head in disinterest. "Go put this horse back so it can rest. It probably worked hard today."

"Oh, she did." Louis pats the mare's neck lovingly. "We had a nice afternoon of trotting. Victoria, here, is a three-time beauty champion. Father takes great pride in her."

"All the more reason to put her back in her stable." Harry motions to the stalls.

"Not before we ride." Louis stubbornly mumbles.

"Excuse me? I will not ride a horse that's worth more than ten of my lives." Harry puts his hands on his hips. Louis holds his hand out again.

"The longer you wait down there, the higher the risk of Victoria making noise and exposing us." Louis teases slightly, and the horse bobs her head before huffing loudly. "She doesn't like waiting."

Harry opens his mouth to speak, but Louis' determined expression stops him. The artist grumbles some curses before letting Louis help him onto Victoria's back. "She would be resting instead of waiting had you left her in the stall."

"Yes, yes, you're right. You're always right," Harry wraps his arms around Louis as the older male grips the reins, "but I wanted a night out with my lover. Sue me."

"If anyone finds out about this, we'll be dead. Forget suing." Harry sighs. "We better be back before the rooster crows."

"We'll be back in a few hours." Louis clicks his tongue, and Victoria trots away. The ride is peaceful as the sounds of rural nightlife fill the air, reminding both young men about their first rendezvous. Harry smirks into Louis' shoulder, and the older male clears his throat to break their loving silence. Harry can smell the natural oil his muse was washed with, the flowers' gentle sent mixed with a man's hot summer musk. The sculptor takes a deep breath only to sigh absentmindedly. Louis peaks at the head of curls, and kisses the crown of Harry's head as if to comfort what subconsciously weighs his lover and friend down.

After what seems like an hour, the moon now hanging high in the sky, Louis stops Victoria and breaks Harry's hold so he can climb down off the horse's back. He helps Harry down after, ties Victoria to a tree, and holds Harry's hand as he leads them away. In the distance, Harry can hear flowing water and Louis moves the overgrown shrubs to show the shimmering stream in all its glory and calmness.

"It's not as big as the lake," Louis apologizes, "but it's much more private and intimate. Zayn showed me this place not too long ago when he was assisting in my horseback riding. I wanted to bring you here as soon as I saw it."

Louis sits, tugs gently on Harry's fingers, and the sculptor sits with his muse. Louis lays him down, and uses his chest as a pillow. Harry spends little time in wrapping his lover up in his arms. They sit in silence as Harry calmly runs his hands through Louis' hair.

"My father," Louis whispers as he listens to Harry's shallow breathing, "will be home two days."

"Yes." Harry mumbles, watching the stars glimmer and shine down on them as if they were spectators of legendary love story. "Nights like these will be nonexistent when he returns."

Louis says nothing, but he does rub his hand up and down Harry's chest. His lack of denial sets a harsh feeling in Harry's stomach. "He's set a plan for marriage. I believe the announcement will be at the party."

Harry feels a small puddle of dampness forming on his shirt, and the shuddering breath of a scared son breaks the soothing sound of crickets and water. Harry moves to hold Louis' anxious hand, and brings his lover's knuckles to his lips for several gentle kisses. Louis doesn't look at him, but Harry isn't bothered by it. He knows it's taken a lot just to do this.

"I won't be leaving you any time soon, Louis." The muse's fingers open to touch Harry's face, and the artist places his cheek in Louis' palm. "Calm yourself. I'm here."

"I won't marry her." Harry stops. "I will not marry anyone who doesn't have my heart."

"You're playing a dangerous game, Louis." The muse removes his hand from Harry's hold to wipe his face. Harry watches as Louis sits up, and straddles him.

"It's no more dangerous than being with you, a man, in the most intimate ways possible." Louis' vulnerability disappears as fast as it came, and he fists Harry's shirt with anxiety. "I don't want a woman, or even another man. I want you, and only you."

"You're father won't have it." Harry holds his wrists, gently attempting to move him off. "If this was your way of trying to get me to agree, you've thought wrong of me. You must do as your father says—"

"Why?" Louis rips his hands away, and Harry sits up. Tears gather once again in the older male's eyes. "Before you came, I wouldn't have objected. I would have done what a good son would do, and obeyed my father. I would continue to be lifeless, and stiff— just like those stones you sculpt. I would have been miserable, but resolute in my belief that my father knew best."

"Louis—"

The muse starts to sob, and Harry tenses as the pain in his chest worsens. "Your ability to bring life to things has surpassed your sculptures. You've given me reasons outside of my father to live, and you've given me a happier view and path. You're the reason I can longer blindly follow that man. You're the reason I can no longer be the son he desires, and you're the reason I won't marry any woman he puts before me."

Louis hits his chest, and Harry finally moves to embrace him as he cries his confession out. "Take responsibility!"

"Calm yourself." Harry whispers as he holds the base of Louis' neck, keeping his lover's body glued to him despite the sweaty heat of the night. "You've gone into a fit, Louis. Calm yourself down so we can properly discuss this."

"I didn't know love, affection, and honesty until you came here. If you intend to see me off with another who isn't you, then why do you entertain me? Why are you still indulging me?" Louis hits Harry's chest again.

"I apologize." Harry rubs his back as the sobs quiet down. "I'm deeply sorry for whatever I've done to make you believe that I've given up. I just simply wish to be more discreet about it. Your father will hurt you, and suspect me if you give this marriage up. I hate to see you suffer, and you will either way, but one path is dangerously unknown and murky while the other is at least clear and planned."

He kisses Louis' forehead several times as the older male calms down. "At least get to know the young lady first. Perhaps things will be easier to hide than you suspect. We've done well so far."

Louis blinks a couple of times, but nods as Harry wipes his eyes. "I'm such a child..."

"You're in love for the first time." Harry lays them back down with a soft chuckle. "The greatest men to live would say the first of anything is the most intense, and any man in love soon becomes a fool."

"Are you not a fool for me, Harry?" Louis goes back to listening to his lover's heartbeat.

"Of course I'm a fool for you. Even the stars laugh at me." Louis chuckles at his cliche line, but he notices something as silence falls— his heartbeat matched Harry's.