Checked | Larry Stylinson

Three| Louis

How Saturday had come this early, no one knows. Louis was already tired from his day at Checks and now he couldn't even crash at Zayn's this night. He had been waiting for Harry for almost an hour now in his hotel and there was no sign of him,

And as if on cue, there was a knock on his door,

"Hi!" Harry chirped, looking much less nervous than the previous week.

"Hi, c'mon in, would you like something?"

"Water's good."

Harry shrugged off his coat and hung it somewhere near the door and sat on the couch while Louis filled up a cup of water for him. The look on his face was better than the last time, much more calm. He could obviously sense the sort of nervousness but it was okay for him. Harry was a new writer.

New writer, but a damn brilliant one at that.

"So, first things first. Have you read the past two books of the trilogy?" Louis asks plopping himself next to Harry.

Harry shooks his head 'no' at that so Louis follows him up with two paperbacks of his previous two books,

"There you go. 'Til when d'you think you'd be done?"

"Um, two days. But I'd want to go through the characters with you,"

"Harry, I would like to keep our relationship on completely professional grounds. Also, the third book, it's something you're writing. You should know we're co-authoring the trilogy. Not the book,"

And okay, Harry might have not been aware of that. His reaction was very visible, as he must've thought that he and Louis were together about to write a book. Well, no.

"Uh, right, sure. Sure. Um, do you think we can go through some discussions before I start the book. I want to know what is the scenario in your mind while writing them."

"Mhm, okay. We can have some meetings every week thrice? Does that work?"

"Yup. It does,"

"Now, a few more things. Harry, I do not want to be updated about your work or progress on the novel. You do not need to tell me about it, just tell me when it's done. In an year, or hundred, I don't care. Also, the third novel will have your name on it. Yours, not mine. If you were expecting to get fame or something from this brand-" Louis points towards himself, "-you were wrong. This series might help you, but your name needs to become something on its own," 

"Uh yes, that works. Also, is there any way I won't get any publicity- I'm not saying it'll be super famous or anything- It's just, If , then is there?"

"I think you'll have to talk to your manager or agent you have about that?" Louis says- asks- to which Harry just nods

"Um, so is there anything else? Any terms from your side?" Louis asks with a brow raised in question,

"Not really, I don't think so. I think if there are any concerns I would tell you in some meeting of ours."

"Alright then," Louis replies easily, breathing a sigh of relief.

It's just that, Louis was so fucking scared that he'd meet someone who doesn't sign the NDA and just goes away revealing his identity to the public. There are just so many fucking worse circumstances which could've happened but didn't, thanks to Harry. He's so perfect for this, and he even looks artistic; if he goes public, that is.

But no one can be sure which is the art while looking at Harry and his works. 

Which, Louis needs to read Harry's novel. He's just read a few snippets out of it, and even though some of them aren't perfect or too deep, those writings were the endgame for Louis.

When Harry had entered that goddamn store, he wishes Harry would've told him who he were. Damn it. His presence was too much for Louis' eyes and now they get to see him every fucking week.

Damn it.

"So, I think I'll find myself out then, yeah?" Harry asks getting up from the couch holding fuckton of Louis' rough manuscripts which he doubts Harry will read,

"Oh, yes um. Have a good night."

"Good Night." Harry smiles and locks the hotel door on his way out.

He has fucking dimples.

Damn it.