Midnight Black Stilettos. [L.S.]✓

Ch. 5; The Past.

"Remember when I said we should just buy a big house after running away and have sex all day?" Harry asks suddenly, bat over his shoulder.

Louis wracks his brain, finding no memory. It's got to the point now that he doesn't really get affected by the accident. They know what he does and he doesn't remember, he'll occasionally walk with a limp if he's been on his feet for hours and was already tired. He barely forgets words anymore, the last time he did was two months ago. The affects of the accident have all but deserted him, but then times like this brings it all back up again. "No, I don't think so."

"First time I topped, in Vegas. Last time we had sex before I left." Harry tacks on, scowling slightly. He's still angry at himself. That's another thing, Harry. He's more himself, basically the Harry he met, and he's also barely affected, but sometimes he feels like Harry is too worried about him. His anxiety only really shows up if Louis' in a bad way, which is as reassuring as it is annoying, but he's glad to have his Harry back. "I said it before you passed out."

It comes back then, albeit slightly fuzzy. Not a fully formed memory. "Vaguely."

"I've been thinking about what would happen if we had of done that. If I'd never left, or I'd never found Mum and Gem again." Harry says, holding his hand tightly, painted fingernails digging into Louis' palm. His stilettos clack on the ground, lipstick slightly smudged (smudged over Louis' face), hair slightly messy, dress basically impeccable bar the small burn on the back.

God, Harry is gorgeous.

"Our lives would be different, sure, but I wouldn't change it for the world." Louis tells him honestly.

"I would." Harry says, jaw tightening. Even if he's more powerful and muscular now, there's still a delicacy to him, still something about him that's still sweet. Not innocent, but... Pretty.

"Why?" Louis asks, he already knows the answer. But Harry's being stupid.

"I don't fucking know," Harry rages, "maybe it's because you fucking died, Louis. Maybe it's because I spent six months of my life fucking waiting for you to wake up from a fucking coma. Maybe it's because I had to reteach my boyfriend how to walk, how to talk. Sure, I did it happily, but I sure as hell wouldn't of fucking chosen to do it, and if I could go back and stop you from randomly getting a motherfucking saviour complex, I fucking would."

Louis sighs, stopping Harry so he can wrap his arms around Harry, head against his chest. "But I'm fine now, baby."

"You don't understand, Lou," Harry says, voice strained. He's about to cry, Louis realises, "y-you. When you flat lined- you don't understand the feeling. I couldn't fucking do anything. You were dead and all I could do was sit there and wait. I couldn't cope, not without you. I'd go back and stop you, Louis, because it's a fucking miracle you survived. You shouldn't be alive, you weren't, for fucks sake. And I don't care if you're fine now, because you weren't, and that was horrible. I would never let you go through so much pain again, I would never forgive myself... I barely forgive myself for all the times I've hurt you in the past,"

At some point during his little rant, a singular tear fell down Harry's face. He wipes it away furiously, not allowing any others to fall.

"You, Harry Edward Styles, are a world class fucking idiot." Louis teases, kissing Harry's cheek (he may of had to get on his tip toes to do it, but that's beside the point). Harry rolls his eyes, a huge grin breaking out on his face. "But, seriously, H. You don't have to protect me from everything. And your point is kinda, well, void. You're responsible for the scar on my shoulder, thigh, leg, and cheekbone. And you got off on that, don't deny it."

"There's something really hot about you tied up beneath me, Lou," Harry laughs, kissing him like they didn't just finish making out.

"I love you, you big dork." Louis chuckles. 

"Love you too, my little elf." Harry teases, slapping his arse lightly.

"Oi!" Louis shouts. "The minute we fucking get married I'm taking you to a hotel room and I'm fucking destroying you"

"Counting on it." Harry winks. "Now, c'mon, we're almost at the top, and we have two phone calls to make. If I don't get to Juan first then we're wasting our time."

They continue on their way. "I just realised we never chose our first dance," Louis muses.

"Absolutely confuse the fuck out of everyone and do Shout Out To My Ex," Harry cackles, shaking his head in amusement at his own joke (yes, Louis is marrying this dork), "or a different break up song... Or a song about sex. Traumatise everyone."

"Or something else." Louis rolls his eyes, shaking his head. "What song was it when you called me Chad Danforth? Do you remember?"

Harry tilts his head to the side, thinking back. "Ed Sheeran, Kiss Me." He finally announces. "Well, it was mainly Beyoncé Halo but I prefer the Ed Sheeran song, and Zayn once told me You Give Love A Bad Name fits us."

"You Give Love A Bad Name?" Louis asks. 

"You know, Bon Jovi?" Harry asks. "Shot through the heart, And you're to blame, Darlin', you give love a bad name, An angel's smile is what you sell, You promise me Heaven, then put me through hell, Chains of love got a hold on me, When passion's a prison, you can't break free- then shit about loaded guns." He shrugs.

"Oh right, yeah." Louis says. "I suppose."

"See, I argued." Harry shrugs. "Sure, I'll admit, I'm very fucked in the head. I'm a psychopath. But, you're not. You're... Somewhat normal, I guess? You have some room for becoming a functioning member of society. Fuck, you are currently a functioning member of society, but. You know. Street rat turned assassin. I'm not really gonna ever be normal."

"I'm too fucked up to date a normal person." Louis shrugs. "That's why we work so well together."

Harry laughs, eyes widening as he turns around. "Well, fuck."