The Devil Wears GUCCI || Larry Stylinson

Chapter 11.

"We've arrived, Harry."

The Editor startles when he hears him, lifting his head from where it was leaning back on the seat. He looks disoriented at first, but soon realises they're in front of his house. For some weird reason, he finds it extremely funny.

"Hey, it's my house." He says, straightening a little in the back.

"It is," Louis replies, unbuckling his seatbelt. He stops halfway through, "This was where you wanted me to take you, right?"

"Yeah," Harry sighs, sticking his face to the car's window. He presses his palms to the glass, which fogs with his constant breathing. "My house," he murmurs to himself, "It's a pretty house, right? I think it's pretty."

Louis turns in the pilot's seat to watch Harry, "It's very pretty," he agrees, "It's the type of house I'd like to have if I could allow myself."

Harry nods, suddenly serious, "It's pretty, but sometimes it feels so empty, y'know?"

Louis scratches his eyebrow and averts his gaze to anything other than Harry's big eyes when he turns around to watch him, "Oh," is the only thing he offers because as much as he had felt the word's weight, Louis doesn't even have the answers of his own life. Either way, he feels pathetic for not knowing what else to say, "Do you want me to go with you to the door?" He asks instead, guessing that Harry won't be able to climb the stairs without tripping over.

"That depends," Harry smiles, quickly forgetting the previous conversation. Louis is starting to get scared of his drastic mood changes. "Do you want to come with me?" He asks with the same picardy that sometimes comes out of him without him realising.

It's the same picardy he probably uses to flirt with handsome models, but that, in this case, he just uses to mock him.

Louis rolls his eyes and gets put off the car anyway. He's not going to provoke a crisis in Brightness just because he wasn't able to keep its Editor safe thanks to his damn pride. He goes around the car and opens the door on Harry's side, finding him laying across the seats with his forearm covering his eyes and his other arm falling to the Ranger's floor.

His ridiculously long legs fall out off the car, almost kicking Louis when he stretches them.

"You look ridiculous," the journalist lets him know, not containing the laughter he feels rising through his thorax. The Editor doesn't move nor does he make a sound, "Stop, Harry. I know you aren't asleep."

"I am."

"No, you aren't," Louis smiles and leans his head on the door while he keeps it open, "Come on, get out of there."

Harry remains silent thirty more seconds before straightening his body with a grunt, "Bene [Fine]" he says, adjusting the gigantic red bow on his neck with furrowed eyebrows.

The Editor works towards the house, with Louis keeping an eye on his steps. Harry barely takes two steps when he stumbles, and Louis has to be quick to stop him from falling over.

"I've got you." Louis says, holding him by the waist.

Harry slides an arm over his shoulders and smiles thankful, "You've got me."

The distance from the car to the entrance becomes very long to Louis, even though it isn't. It's hard when he has a person holding onto him and is even worse when said person emits a blazing heat. Every part of him that touches Harry's body feels like it's sizzling, as if the bubbles of the champagne the Editor drank earlier were dancing around them.

They manage to eventually get there and after some giggles, Harry gets the door open. Louis still remembers the distribution of the hall, so he walks directly towards the nearest couch through the house's darkness. He leaves Harry there while he searches for a light switch, going back to close the door after the place illuminates. He walks back to Harry's dead weight laying on the sofa with a smile growing on his face at the memory from two weeks ago, when he was the one waiting for the Editor sitting at the same place.