The Devil Wears Gucci - Larry Stylinson

13. For your eyes only

           

Harry stormed into the hotel, not even hearing the staff greeting him, and walked decidedly to his suite. On his way, he had called Louis multiple times, but they all went straight to voicemail. The highest probability was that Louis' phone died, which would mean he was still out; but Harry prayed for the contrary, he couldn't stand another second with the thought of Louis being kicked out of Runaway. He prayed for Louis to be in. He needed to talk to him, to know Louis was aware of everything, that there was a plan, he needed to expose what seemed like an ambush.

He felt like he could breathe just a little better when he saw a butler with a tray of tea-ware about to knock on their suite door.

"I'll handle that, thanks!" he rushed to the man while scanning his card, opening the door. The man gave him an unsure look, "Erm... merci," was all Harry said before taking the tray from him and walking into the suit and closing the door.

Louis wasn't in the front room, so Harry let out a sigh and walked, tray in hands, towards Louis room. He saw that Louis' door was ajar, so he spoke, "Louis, I have your tea. I'm coming in," and he entered.

Harry kept talking while walking to lay the tray on the coffee table, in front of the couch. "Look, I really, really need to talk to you. There's this..." and the scene froze him.

Louis was in the couch, his arm leaned on the armrest and his chin was propped in his fist. His head was slightly turned away from Harry, and had his eyes closed with his glasses on. That didn't keep Harry from noticing the redness and puffiness around his eyes, clear signs of crying. His other hand laid across his middle, balled into a fist. There were scrunched up tissues all around him.

"Louis, what's wrong?" Harry said breathless.

Louis sighed, "Leave the tea, I'll make it myself," He had opened his eyes when he spoke, so Harry could see how red his eyes really were. He still made no eye contact with Harry.

Harry hesitated and intended to leave the tray on the coffee table, but there were papers scattered all over it. Newspapers, and printed paper as well, all of them with big headlines about Louis. Harry picked up the words 'workaholic', 'obsessed', 'unattainable', 'thorny' and 'solitary'. There was also a picture of Louis the night before, of him walking out from the party alone with an aggrieved expression on his face.

"Wha- what's this?" he asked perplexed.

Louis scoffed, "Just some leisure reading. C'mon, let me," and he took the tray, setting it on all of the papers. He took off his glasses and then picked up the tea pot, starting to pour the hot water into the cup, but his hands were trembling so he spilled some.

Harry snapped out of his small trance, "Here, Let me, He said taking the things off Louis hands.

Louis sat back on the couch and sniffed. Harry concentrated on making the tea, and when he finished, he carefully lifted the tray and picked up all of the papers. He crumpled them and threw them into the bin.

Then Harry returned to Louis side and gave him the cup of brown, steaming liquid.

Louis took a small sip, but looked like he couldn't have more. Harry took the cup and placed it back on the table.

"Why do you even read this stuff?" Harry hummed.

"Because I rather know what they write about me than tiptoe around social media," Louis answered, still not meeting Harry's eyes "And you know what? It's all true,"

"It's not. You know it's not," Harry complained, and put a hand on Louis knee.

"Is it? Because I don't remember a time when I wasn't working. I don't remember a time when I wasn't alone," Louis finally met Harry's gaze, "But I remember that yesterday, I left a party alone because I chose to,"