That's Me In The Spotlight {The Jesus Fic}.

Chapter 8

The lights in the hotel room were so bright they hurt Harry's eyes, but there wasn't a dimmer switch. Harry had left his phone on charge and when he saw two text messages from his mom, he felt ill. His mom would never look him in the eye again if she knew even half of what he'd gotten up to tonight.

The room was so empty and cold. Not the actual temperature, but just the feel of it all – pale sheets on the big bed and meaningless framed prints on the walls and plain white towels hanging in the bathroom. It was so empty, especially with a double bed – wasn't the whole point of a double bed to fit two people into it?

His mom had asked, How was your flight? Spotted any celebs? and then two hours later, Miss you, sugar. God bless. Harry wanted to cry because it was too late to reply now, but he missed his mom too, missed her and Gemma and his dad and his own single bed so very much already. He missed what life was two months ago, when it was all so simple and he'd thought he knew who he was.

Harry dialled Louis' number instead, wanting to leave him with a missed call, but Louis actually picked it up on the first ring – oops, Louis was old enough to still actually use his phone as a phone.

“Can you come to my room? I'm all alone and I hate it,” Harry asked around the lump in his throat.

The knock on the door was so quiet that Harry thought he might have imagined it, but a quick look through the peephole showed Louis standing there with a small bag hanging from his hand. He'd changed, wearing a blood red shirt with a low scooped neck that was hanging off his collarbones, showing off his chest hair – gosh, Louis had such a nice light smattering of chest hair - and he must have combed his hair out because it was not so much quiffed as just all flicked out. He hadn't shaved, his stubble almost forming a goatee... Louis looked like an earthly devil.

Harry let him in. It felt incredibly weird, like he'd grown up a lot all of a sudden. He'd barely travelled before and now he was someone who had a giant hotel room all to themselves.

Someone who apparently had late-night gentleman-callers come to visit him in his giant hotel room.

It was weird, too, how Harry felt awful about all the things he'd done with Louis, yet Louis was the only one who made him feel any better at all.

Louis slipped off his shoes and lay back on Harry's bed, ankles crossed and hands behind his head. If he was trying to look casual he was failing, because he looked kind of -

No, he didn't look like anything. Harry didn't care what Louis looked like, he wasn't gay. Still, the bed looked a lot better with someone filling up the other half.

Harry curled up along the bed sideways, his body meeting Louis' to make a T-shape. He rested his head on Louis' chest, facing away. Louis shuffled underneath him slightly, then Harry felt his hand meet the back of Harry's head, twisting his curls and scratching his scalp.

“I want my mom,” Harry admitted.Louis didn't reply, just kept his hand moving through Harry's hair.

Harry must have fallen asleep, because he was now waking up again. It was still dark. He sat up and turned to Louis, asking, “How long was I sleeping?”

“Not long.” Louis smiled. “Maybe an hour. You should go back to sleep, we've got work tomorrow.”

That sounded fantastic; we've got work, it made them sound so... equal. “I'm awake now. Need to have a shower, anyway. You don't mind?” "'Course not.”

Harry moved into the bathroom, unpacking his toiletries. His hand paused over his disposable razor.

Louis looked so nice down there, and felt so nice too, silky smooth. It wasn't as if Harry liked it in that way, he just... wanted to feel the same way too.