Once in a Lifetime ➳ Larry

chapter seventeen

Chapter Seventeen

Harry briefly pauses in the doorway of Louis's office, all pigeon-toed and timid.  He clears his throat awkwardly.  "Erm, Lou?"

    The older man looks up from his laptop.  His bright irises are hidden behind a pair of glasses, which teeter at the end of his nose.  The dim, yellow light glowing from the nearby lamp hollows out his cheekbones.  He has a stern and emotionless look on his face.  For a second, Harry thinks he sees tears glistening in his eyes, but he decides not to mention it. 

    "Yes?" Louis asks, voice soft.

    Harry gulps.  He feels intimidated by Louis at times like this.  He gives off an aura of dominance and unbreakable superiority.  His shoulders are broad and sturdy, and his scruff makes him appear even sexier and rougher.  As his hands still over his keyboard, he raises an eyebrow, urging Harry to continue.

    "I was, um, wondering if you could help me with something," he asks shyly.

    "And what would that be?"

    Harry bites his lip.  "I need to get ready for the club, but I can't exactly see myself in the mirror.  Would you mind putting on my makeup for me?"

    Louis intakes a sharp breath of surprise.  Harry looks incredibly beautiful with his natural skin, let alone with makeup to accentuate his features.  He imagines his pretty eyes with long, black lashes.  He'd be gorgeous with blushed cheeks and ruby, red lips. 

    "I mean," Harry coughs, "as long as you feel comfortable."

    Louis lets out a short, breathy laugh.  "One of my ex-wives used to be Marilyn Monroe's makeup artist.  I think I can handle this."

    Harry cracks a small smile.  "Really?"

    "Yeah, really.  Her name was Lucy," Louis recalls, carding through his memory. 

    "That's a pretty name," Harry muses. 

    Louis hums with acknowledgement.  He shuts his laptop and pats the chair in front of him, beckoning Harry to sit down.  The young stripper gently takes a seat and unzips his makeup bag.  Inside, various containers of lipstick, blush, concealer, glitter, and mascara lay in a messy pile.  Louis stays silent as he picks up a golden tube of red lipstick.  He uncaps it with an audible pop, then twists it.

    "Tell me about your ex-wives," Harry says quietly.

    Louis laughs awkwardly.  "There's not much to discuss, love."

    "You said you were married multiple times," Harry points out. 

    "I was."

    "So, what were they like?"

    Louis sighs, staring down at the lipstick to avoid eye contact.  "Well, my first wife was called Marie.  We met in Berlin and got married after three weeks."

    Harry's eyes widen.  "Three weeks?"

    "Yeah, things were different back then," he chuckles dryly. 

    "Was she pretty?"

    Louis's lips press into a frown.  "I don't really remember," he admits with a shrug. 

    "How can you not remember?" Harry scoffs.  "You were married."

    "Yes, but— it's not important.  Why do you care so much, H?"

    Harry blinks in surprise.  "I dunno.  I guess I'm just... curious."

    "Well, if you don't mind, I'd like to drop the subject," Louis grumbles.