panic [larry stylinson] ✔️

19.

"The museum is closed today," said Harry tensely, smiling so capaciously that Louis believed his jaw could have broken. The teen seemed unbreakable anyways, like nothing or no one could destroy him even if they tried, resembling some gorgeous robot. That's it, Harry was too beautiful and fucked up to be a real human being, which is why he was acting this way. "What are you thinking about, doll?"

"What's so good about the museum being closed?" questioned Louis, avoiding the last question. He was pretty sure that Harry noticed the dodge, but the teen didn't say anything about it as he stood up from the edge of Louis' bed, happily clutching his hands together as he spoke again.

"Since I know a few people and I know how much you love museums, I've rented it for a day just for us." explained Harry, his voice coming off soft from how much he was blushing, and Louis didn't think he'd ever see this side of him for awhile. It was a simple gesture, yet so important- Louis bet that no other guy would have done this for him.

Yet again, Harry isn't like the others guys.

"Is that too cheesy?" gushed Harry quietly, his attention moving towards the dresser sitting ahead of him, glancing towards the clean floor with rosy cheeks. Louis shifted in his spot underneath the sheets and stared at the back of Harry's curly head, crawling over after a minute of silence and running his hand through it as if it was something normal to do. Something he was meant to do.

Harry didn't do or say anything. He allowed the petite man tug at his hair and map out each and every single strand, feeling all of the shyness he had floating throughout him decapitate.

It was soothing this way, and suddenly Louis forgot that he was in the room with a psychopath, a drug dealer, and a murderer. He forgot that he was deprived of freedom and many other things as he buried his nose in Harry's neck and inhaled the smell of cologne and sweat, his shame vanishing.

"I like cheesy."

Stomach in knots, Louis took Harry's hand in his and interlinked them together, his fingertips landing on top of Harry's cold skin ghostly.

Louis doesn't even think he's there right now; he doesn't think that he's even alive neither. He feels out of it, like his spirit is the only thing here with Harry. Maybe it's the side effects of isolation, going absolutely insane to the point where you think you're dead- where you think everything is okay.

"Good," breathed Harry nimbly, squeezing Louis' hand before letting go and standing up, his demeanor forming into it's usual neutral state. Confident and crazy, two traits of which Harry managed to have, but they were so enticing. Louis thinks that he truly is losing his mind the more he's here in this house talking to no one else but Harry, and occasionally his workers, but they leave after only several minutes. "Wear something hot, preferably the skirt I bought you."

"Yes, Daddy." responded Louis breezily, the words rolling off of his tongue, and he could tell what Harry was thinking about as his jaw slackened and left the room, leaving nothing but his scent behind and the dip in the mattress.

The door shut and Louis' hands began to shake, tremble, because he knows that he's still in deep shit and he needs to get out of here.

He just needed to gain Harry's trust, and maybe he'll get the privilege of making it out here alive. But Harry wouldn't actually try to kill him right? Certainly not the guy he had been crushing on since he started YouTube- but who is Louis to put faith in a killer? Things change, and so do people.

"You can do this." Louis whispered to himself as he walked over to his closet, opening it with two hands, his eyes scraping over each bright piece of clothing. He pulled out the leather skirt and a shirt to go with it, feeling the fabric in his hands with his eyes closed. "Relax, Louis, you're going to get through this."

Picking up every shed of confidence he had ever let go, he removed the clothes he had on and put on the new clothes, suddenly feeling invincible. Even in a cute skirt, he felt like he could kick ass; just not today. He was going to enjoy art today and not make this day any harder than it has to be. Listen to him.

He walked out of the room and unexpectedly bumped into Harry, his hands instinctually reaching out to grab ahold of the sleeve of Harry's black silk sweater. It felt like Louis was holding onto a bag of marshmallows, soft and comfortable. "You look beautiful, babygirl."

"I-Thank you." mumbled Louis, and he wouldn't admit it, but he happened to love this nickname and being treated like he was fragile. Harry helped him stand up straight and let his hand rest on the curve of Louis' back as they walked towards the door together.

Louis wondered if Niall and Liam were worried about his whereabouts.

.  .  .

Twitter

Trending

#WhereRÜNowLouis
#FindLouis
Louis Tomlinson
#5WordsThatWillRuinADate
#Coachella
Zayn in jail

.  .  .

Louis doesn't remember the last time he has been to the museum, never finding the right time of day to go since he was consistently busy with YouTube.

People didn't know much about this, but he loved looking at paintings and sculptures made by prodigious artists- always looking deep within the picture to find a hidden message. He wasn't much of an art hoe, he was just an art whore.

The place was empty just like Harry said it would be, and because of the gradual silence, Louis was able to get lost in a world that the atmosphere has created. The world of art.

He thinks that he sounds like a nerd about this stuff, so he doesn't open his mouth as he moves from one exhibit to another until Harry comes up from behind him as he's looking at a gigantic painting, placing his hands on Louis' hips.

"What do you think about this picture?"

It was a basic question, but Louis smiled anyways. "It represents the perpetual meaning of love, which is why you see the man crying while looking up at the stars, and why you see the sunsetting. Love won't last forever, just like the night doesn't."

"You're really good at interpreting art." said Harry with amusement as Louis shrugged his shoulders, observing the painting a bit more.

"I took a few art classes before I, um, dropped out." admitted Louis uneasily, tension being released from his body as Harry's thumbs massaged his hips. "I find it amazing."

"You're amazing. Now am I being too cheesy?"

"Just a tad."

He wants to smile some more, but he is hit with depressing thoughts once again, and he wants to know if anyone misses him. He wants to know if anyone is worried, and he just wants answers. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to ask Harry. "Harry, are the others...worried about me?"

"Are you sure you want to know the answer to that, doll?"

"Yeah," muttered Louis, trying to appear unenthusiastic as he spoke. He didn't need Harry changing his mind and denying him the right to know what was going on back home.

"They think that you're on vacation. They forgot all about you, Louis, as sad as it sounds. They just think you went on some vacation to get away from everyone. I'm sorry." answered Harry, his voice normal and sympathetic. Louis swallowed his pride and nodded his head, whispering oh while leaning back against Harry's chest, feeling like his heart had been ripped out of his chest.

He doesn't feel like he's there again anymore.

NOTE: hi harry is such a cunt im srry not rlly :-D