Wild Hearts Run Free

Chapter 7

t's still early when they pull up just down the road from Vincent's house, the street only just starting to come to life as people head off to work. It's strange being back. Even though Louis has only been gone less than a week, it feels like years have passed. Louis isn't the same man he was when he backed out of their driveway and set off to meet Vincent for their romantic weekend away, filled with excitement at the prospect of a proposal and the hopes of starting the next chapter of their lives together. Instead, Louis is stronger and more sure of what he wants for his life than ever before.

They wait in Liam's car a few houses away for Vincent to leave for work, not wanting to deal with the confrontation that would inevitably transpire.

"Hey, Lou," Liam says and Louis turns to face him. "Not that I have any doubt based on what you've said, but if things don't go as you hope with Harry, you can stay with me for as long as you need to. You know that, right?"

"You're a Prince among men, Li. I appreciate it."

Liam's nods and smiles and when Louis turns back around, he sees Vincent walking out of the house. He looks just the same, but Louis is seeing him through different eyes now, and it's hard not to draw an immediate comparison with Harry. Where Vincent is polished and almost contrived with slicked back hair that's freshly trimmed, an expensive suit, and buttoned up shirt and tie, Harry is laid back and comfortable, welcoming and familiar, with his flannel shirts and curls that fall softly around his face.

"There he is," Liam says. "How long do you want to give him before we go in?"

Vincent backs out of the drive and heads off down the street away from them and into the distance. "Should be good now," Louis says and unbuckles his belt.

They walk the short distance to the house and Liam uses his spare key to let them in, Louis' keys long gone somewhere at the bottom of the river.

The house smells clean, clinical almost, just like it always did. It never used to bother Louis, but now it feels so unnatural, chemical, as though it's all just a facade. He yearns for Harry's scent and for his own to be mixed with it, for the way the tones complimented each other and created a single aroma that somehow smelled like home in a way this house never did.

They walk down the hallway and into the living area, the always on-trend production line furniture not a shadow of the quality of Harry's bespoke pieces which were made with love and care, not like some showroom ready display lifted from the pages of a designer magazine.

"How much stuff do you need to get?" Liam asks as he follows Louis towards the main bedroom.

"Not much. Just clothes really, and a few trinkets. I've got a couple of duffel bags we can use."

When he enters the bedroom it hits him how little of himself is represented in this house; the decor, the personal touches, the endless decisions that are made to furnish a space were almost entirely made by Vincent. It's like he barely left an imprint, hardly a trace to be found. Even after their years together, it's as though he was never there.

Louis goes into the closet and retrieves the bags, bringing them back and dumping them on the bed. Liam unzips them as Louis starts gathering up his clothes from the dresser and piles them on the bed for Liam to pack. They work in an efficient silence, the act of removing himself from the house entirely feeling understandably heavy, but there's no sadness or regret, only a satisfying feeling of finality. He clears out the closet and retrieves his toiletries from the bathroom, handing them all over to Liam and then they're done. It takes a surprisingly short amount of time to wipe himself completely from the palace he had called home for so many years.

"Alright. Let's get out of here," Liam says as he lifts both duffel bags onto his shoulders and they make their way back to the front door.

Louis is about to step over the threshold when he remembers a box of mementos he's left in the closet. Silly things—postcards and photos and little things he's collected over time—but he wants them all the same.