Privileged Murder

Forty One

The following weeks had never been more painful. Louis had slept with everything and everyone he could to get his mind off of his beautiful boy, that was now no longer his, he had stopped going into work for a few reasons - the main being Marcel - he had condemned Louis the second he had stepped foot back into the building after the split with Harry.

He was sat very calmly at his desk, quickly and solemnly going through some contracts when his office door was slammed open. Smashing against the wall and in stormed Marcel "Are you fucking stupid?!"

"Um-" Louis was taken aback, he had never seen Marcel like this, let alone the anger being directed towards him "What do you mean?" Still slightly drowsy from crying all night.

"You fucking know what!" In fact, Louis did not know "Harry" Oh, now he did "Really? What were you doing? Just fucking him so your mate got what he wanted?"

"You know Niall, and n-"

"Oh yeah, I fucking know that dickhead"

In the weeks since that encounter Marcel had calmed down substantially, no longer angry - well if he was he no longer expressed it - they kept out of each others way on the off chance that Louis did come into work, but, of course, Marcel was in every day to catch up on what Louis was too lazy to complete. Marcel had said that whatever went on between the couple was their own business and none of his, he had apologised to Louis for his outburst and explained that he had only heard Harry's side of the story and he shouldn't have jumped to conclusions.

But the more prominent, and slightly more frustrating, reason that Louis hasn't wanted to go into the office and see Marcel is that, since losing Harry, he has begun to notice the similarities between the love of his life and his younger personal assistant. Due to his newfound discovery, slowly but surely their faces would merge together as Louis approached his climax and the urge to push Marcel up against a wall was now a thing.

The delicate curls pushed back into a subtle quiff type thing that makes him look like heaven on Earth, the piercing green eyes that could cut through steel, big hands that feel gorgeous wrapped around your waist and holding you close like you're slowly going to slip away from them. The bizarre but still greatly attractive style of wardrobe and it fucking works.

See, you could give that description to Louis, but whether he would say it was a description of Harry or Marcel would be the real question.

The two boys were undeniably completely different personality-wise but when Louis imagined them naked and at the height of an orgasm, who could really tell the difference? It's safe to say Louis definitely couldn't.

•••

Harry, on the other hand, had moved on completely as nothing had ever occurred. He refused to talk about Louis to his friends or to Gemma, when Zayn and Liam would ask how he is, all they would receive in response would either be 'whos that?' or 'I don't know and I don't care' Harry doesn't believe that Louis has the right to be remembered, to be grieved over, to be cried over, he thinks that Louis is a waste of his time.

He still loves him, there's no doubt about it, but he doesn't give his feelings the time of day. He knows they're still there but nobody else does.

Work has become a constant, a routine that has been religiously followed, every day like clockwork he wakes at five in the morning, goes for a ten-mile run, comes home and has a healthy smoothie with breakfast, into work by seven and doesn't leave until gone eleven at night. However, on the off chance, he leaves early it will be to go out with friends - to invite Liam or Zayn round for drinks or to look up old school friends - to get absolutely steaming drunk, but, no matter what, he would be in bed by five, ready to be woken and start the process of the day all over again.