chapter seven

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Chapter Seven

The clock ticks inside of Harry's brain. Their time diminishes with every second, slipping away like sand through an hourglass. So Harry holds onto Louis's shoulders and buries his face into his neck, peppering his skin with light kisses. Louis continues to stroke his hair and give him gentle reassurances, whispering sweet things into his ear.

"Harry," Louis begins, voice quiet, "my time's almost up."

He briefly glances at the clock. He only paid for one full hour in the velvet room, and alas, fifty-six minutes have passed.

"No," Harry whines, shaking his head. His curls rustle under Louis's chin. "Stay."

Louis sighs. "Harry—"

"I don't care if Liam gets mad," he persists, pulling back to make eye contact again.

" 'm not gonna be responsible for you losing your job," Louis insists whilst shaking his head with disapproval.

Harry pouts. He knows Louis is right, but he just can't. He can't go out there and face the crowd again. When he's on stage, it's all a lie. An escape from the bitter, terrifying reality. And when he comes back down from the pole, he only feels worse, because those few minutes of ecstasy were only short-lived.

"Fine, but I want you to come watch me," Harry grumbles, poking Louis's chest.

"I would never say 'no' to that," Louis teases, smirk tugging on his lips.

And, God, he looks marvelous. Harry wants to devour him. Wants to feel his hands all over his skin, his cold breath sending shivers down his spine. Wants to kiss him until his lips turn red and swollen.

But unfortunately, they only have two minutes left. What a shame.

"So, do you want to come back to my cottage tonight?" Louis offers, brow raised.

Harry gulps. To be honest, he doesn't know what he wants. Louis can practically read his thoughts. He looks at him for a second, examines his green eyes, and then smiles sympathetically.

"It's alright if you don't want to," Louis insists. "I understand that you might be, like, homesick."

Harry snorts at the accusation. Okay, maybe he's not so much of a mind-reader after all.

"I hate my flat, Louis. I'm not homesick."

Louis blinks in surprise. "Okay, then what's the problem?"

Harry bites his lip. "I don't know. It's just— it's weird, you know?"

"What's weird?"

Harry ponders that for a moment. He can feel the weight of Louis straddling his hips, accompanied by the weight of the world crushing his chest.

"Being... with someone, I suppose," he chokes, letting a few seconds of silence pass between them. "I've been alone for so long, I've almost forgotten what it's like to have someone to look after me."

Louis bites his lip thoughtfully, his fangs digging into the chapped, pink flesh. He can hear the pain in Harry's voice. This boy is damaged. Maybe not broken, but definitely hurt. Louis wants nothing more than to pick up all his shattered pieces and glue them back together.

"Why haven't you tried contacting your family?" Louis inquires, eyes squinted.

Harry pauses. "I dropped out of university, Louis. They don't want me."

"How do you know that?"

"Because they haven't come searching for me yet," Harry says dryly, eyes drifting away. His throat bobs up and down. "They would be so disappointed in me."

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