Once in a Lifetime ➳ Larry

chapter eight

Chapter Eight

Harry's fingers ghost over Louis's dusty bookshelf, examining the various knick knacks and memorabilia that fill its wooden frame. He finds rusty antiques and random trinkets that all tell stories of the past, revealing bits and pieces of Louis's previous lives. Harry notices a framed photograph, its glass smudged with dirt and fingerprints. It shows a tall, blonde woman holding the handle of a pitchfork. Her hair is tied back in pigtails.

"Who's this?" Harry ponders out loud, picking up the picture frame.

Louis glances up from his book, glasses teetering at the tip of his nose. The nearby lamp makes his skin appear slightly yellow-tinted. Shadows carve out the hollows of his cheeks.

"My ex-wife, Caroline. She was a human," he answers dryly.

Harry nearly chokes on his own saliva. He blinks a few times with confusion. Did he hear him properly? Did he say ex-wife? Because last time he checked, Louis sprouted a boner because of Harry's arse, not a woman's anatomy.

"You seem surprised," Louis notes calmly.

Harry coughs awkwardly. "No, I just— I, uh. I thought you were gay," he admits.

Louis frowns. "I am, Harry."

Harry is still confused. He parts his lips to speak, but no words come out— just breathes out a puff of cold air. He doesn't know what to say or ask.

"Let me clarify," Louis grunts, setting his book aside on the coffee table. "Caroline and I got married in the 1940's. I don't remember the exact date, to be honest. We were together for ten or so years before I had to relocate again."

"Oh," Harry huffs, taking a seat at the couch. He still looks tense, though, with his shoulders tight and raised slightly. "Are you, like, bisexual?"

Louis chuckles. "No, Harry. I'm definitely gay."

"Then why did you marry a woman?"

Louis stares at him coldly. His irises are laced with silver, making them resemble sparkly ice. He leans back in his rocking chair as his hands grip the wooden armrests.

"Do you know anything about LGBT history, Harold?"

"That's not my name."

"And that doesn't answer my question."

Harry flushes. "Right, sorry. Erm, I suppose I don't know a lot."

Louis nods slowly. His gaze locks on Harry for a few seconds. He rubs his chin thoughtfully, grazing his palm over the wiry stubble that speckles his jawline.

"I've been gay for my entire life, Harry, but I didn't come out of the closet until the 1960's. Or rather, I couldn't."

Harry's eyebrows crease together. "Why not?"

"It wasn't safe. It was just a— a different time period, I suppose. A different set of beliefs. Back then, being an open homosexual was a death sentence," Louis rambled, picking at a hangnail on his pinky. "So, I married women instead. It was a way to blend in with society, you see. A way to seem... normal."

Harry nods, trying to understand. "Did you love them?"

Louis pauses contemplatively. "Of course I did. I loved them all dearly— just not in a romantic way."

"Them all," Harry repeats, gulping. "There were multiple?"

"I've been married nine or ten times, Harry," Louis confesses.