Larry one shots/AUs

Need you like no other

The bed feels warm, the late morning heat of summer seeping in through the hotel windows that overlook the bustling city.

Despite the relaxed atmosphere, Louis has goosebumps running up and down his arms, an unnrving chill crawling up his spine.

And along with the mixture of sensations is the persistent feeling of guilt resting deep within his gut.

He was only trying to heal a wounded heart, he can't be blamed for that, but he might as well have just poured a bucket of salt onto it instead.

He starts to sit up, feeling a little sick. The stiff hotel sheets shift with his body and the mattress dips under his weight. Surprisingly, the hangover isn't the main reason he feels sick, but it's sure as hell not helping. He feels like his brain is about to vomit.

The bedsheets fall off his bare chest and sink down to his waist, the air hitting his bare skin and pricking up the hairs on his arms.

Casting his eyes down to the pillow beside him, he sees golden brown hair splayed over the soft linen. It surrounds smooth, tan skin, with coal eyelashes that cast delicate shadows on his cheeks. Behind those lashes hide a pair of emerald eyes that Louis had to keep himself from drowning in last night. Unmoving, gentle lips contain a pigment that look like they have been custom crafted by the Gods for him specifically, slightly parted as light, steady breaths escape them.

And though his name was simple and short, it somehow became Louis' favourite word over the course of just a few hours.

God, when did he become so poetic? What has this man done to him over the course of less than 12 hours? He needs to get a grip.

He knows, like, seven Harrys. He didn't fall in love with any of them or think it was a beautiful name with them.

This particular Harry can't be that special.

Louis bites the inside of his bottom lip as he rubs a hand up and down his own upper arm. Partially because of the cold, yes, but also he feels a little awkward. And guilty. And craving something he'd probably never have, or even see, ever again.

Rays of gentle sunlight illuminate the room through the thin curtains, and as more and more memories of last night come back, he feels more and more remorse. He was too drunk.

"Who's calling you at this hour?" Louis had teased, shouting over the booming music and running a forefinger up Harry's bicep.

"I've gotta take this, sorry. One second." Harry put his forefinger up to Louis to signal the second, moving away a bit and leaving Louis to stand alone, very drunk and a little lonely now that his warmth was gone.

He couldn't help but overhear part of the conversation. Accidentally on purpose.

"No, everything's fine." Pause. "No, you don't need to get me. I'm fine, just stay where you are." Pause. "Stop it! Don't do this right now."

It didn't sound positive.

"You're treating me like I'm incapable of making my own decisions! I don't need you monitoring my every movement."

Okay, it couldn't be further from positive.

Before Louis had time to process such a sudden change in his demeanour, Harry was back, pulling Louis in close again.

"Glad you stayed," He smiled, but there was still a hint of annoyance in his tone from the phone call.

"Is everything okay? That didn't sound good."

"Everything's fine," Harry masked his expression, but his immediate look to the floor said otherwise and God, Louis should definitely be sober for this.