The House | night sixty eightA home
that no other wings
can steal; you.•
e n t r a n c e
Harry: Are you staying tonight, Louis? (pulls Louis inside)
Louis: Obviously! This my house. (quickly glances at Harry)
Harry: Funny. (furrows brows) This is my house.
Louis: Harry, this is my house. (chuckles) My clothes are literally upstairs at the bottom drawer and half the closet.
Harry: (confused) But this is my house, I have a huge graduation picture over the piano in the living room.
Louis: (wraps arm around Harry's waist) This is my house, I have my Fifa over the television. A pair of my shoe is misplaced right there. (points at shoe)
Harry: No, (takes Louis' arm off) this is my house. My coat is hanging over the rack, I have my car keys in the bowl and I just bought groceries yesterday.
Louis: I know. (walks in further) But this is my house.
Harry: My house! (furious)
Louis: (face palms/laughing)
Harry: (confused)
Louis: You do know we're married right? (grins)
Harry: This is my h– oh. (pauses) Right, we're married. Does that mean?..
Louis: Yes, (nods) we live together and we've been living together for years now every single day.
Harry: Is that why I have random photographs of us in frames everywhere?
Louis: Yes.
Harry: How the hell do I not see you? Wait, is that why you always drive me home?
Louis: Yup. (hugs Harry) Didn't even need to tell me your address.
Harry: Where are you when I'm home? (pushes Louis off gently)
Louis: Most of the time, I hide at Marbles after I drop you off. Sometimes when I don't feel like leaving I hide in the laundry room, or the spare room, or places where you rarely visit.
Harry: How do you prepare your meals without making me notice?
Louis: I don't. (walks up to the living room) I always eat your leftovers. I can't cook. You always cook. You're the only one who cooks between us.
Harry: Do you clean?
Louis: Yes darling, I clean the house. You don't like cleaning.
Harry: Where do you sleep?
Louis: At certain days if you remember who I am, I sleep beside you. But since you often don't remember me. I hide from you and sleep in the living room couch.
Harry: Why don't I see you in the morning whenever I wake up?
Louis: (smiles playfully) Here's the thing, the Harry who remembers who I am loves the morning. That's why when it's already past seven and you're still dead asleep, most probably you're the Harry who doesn't know my background.
(pauses) I constantly escap, basically. I leave early in the morning just so you won't see me. But if you remember me, you'd be the one to wake me up.
Harry: Isn't it quite difficult? (amazed)
Louis: To be honest, it is. (walks with Harry to the kitchen) When evening strikes, I always worry that tomorrow it's either I would be able to cuddle and kiss you in the morning, or I would be leaving you and not know what you did the whole day. It hurts actually, to the extent that sometimes, as creepy as it may seem– I stare at night. Wondering when will I ever get the chance to touch that boy's body again, tell him goodnight, or even have you rest on my chest. Especially since as time goes on, the Harry who remembers me is rarely there.
Harry: All this time... (thinks back)
Louis: I told you I can't replace you. I can't leave you. 'Cause you're the only one I have. And I never left. I was always there. I will always be here.
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