R O O M 1 9 7 // Harry Styles & Louis Tomlinson Edition

Seventeen - Part I

~Friday 6th January 2017~

19:08 pm

Harry fumbles with his tie, the light blue fabric stiff against his fingertips as it refuses to lay flat against his chest. He's in his own little world as he struggles with the material, stood on the sidewalk outside of The Magnolia doors. In front of him, E is struggling too, trying to neatly place herself and her mountain of a dress inside the back seat of Harrison's car. Her husband stands behind her, watching, refusing to offer his help, as she squeezes herself through the door.
Harrison notices Harry's failing attempts to flatten his wayward tie and walks to him, placing his hands over the material and straightening it out for him. The forever-relaxed driver smiles down at Harry with a regretful grin - in a show of apology for not collecting the young man from his apartment this morning. It was only under Mrs Tomlinson's strict instruction that he didn't pick him up.
Harry smiles back, patting Harrison on the side of his arm, a gesture of friendliness, as Harrison finally smooths out the tie, and they turn towards the car, realising that Louis' eyes have been on them the whole time. Louis looks away instantly, caught red-handed and climbs into the backseat, beside his wife, as Harry moves to the front passenger side.

The Silk Night is a lavish building just outside of Chicago, equipped with an extravagant ballroom, decorated with purple lights and large round tables, completed by over-the-top floral centrepieces. Harry is out of his depth the second he walks through the ornate threshold into the large room bustling with people. He stays silent, on the heels of The Tomlinsons, who both walk through the large room, arms linked together, smiling at everyone who passes them. Fake smiles, Harry is sure.
He feels like a child, dragged along to his parents' party because there's no babysitter available tonight. E finds their table quickly - a small oval table near the corner of the room - and greets the people already sat at their chairs, old friends from when the couple lived in England, before she wanders off. Her vulnerability of earlier is lost, replaced with superficial confidence, as she saunters across the room, her crimson dress flowing gracefully behind her.

With a weary glance towards Harry, Louis takes his seat, shuffling himself forward and grabbing the full champagne flute designated for him.
Harry follows his lead - unaware how to act in such a formal social setting - and sits down too, leaving a space inbetween himself and Louis for Mrs Tomlinson. He eyes his own glass of alcohol slowly, before pushing it away from his place mat and ignoring Louis' heavy gaze.

E returns minutes later with a short, thin woman under her arm.
"This is Lillian." E introduces her, smiling down at the girl's tanned face, and it takes a moment for Harry to realise that she is talking to him. The girl's platinum blonde hair is pulled away from her face in a tight ponytail that looks like it must give her a headache, and she's wearing a gold dress, two sizes too small for even her tiny frame. She smiles towards Harry, but he can't find it in himself to smile back, confused and disorientated by this whole experience.
Mrs Tomlinson guides Lillian to the seat next to Harry, grinning wildly as if she's the next cupid, before taking her seat beside her husband, turning herself in such a way that she obstructs Louis' view of Harry. With Harry 'occupied' - or perhaps her plan is to distract him - she turns her attention to Louis, starting a conversation with him, her back to Harry.
Message received, loud and clear, Harry thinks to himself as Lillian begins to introduce herself further. Eleanor might as well write "he's mine" in red Sharpie across Louis' forehead. It would be more subtle.

Her short claw-like nails are blood-red, matching her dress, as she speaks to her husband, forcing herself into the space between the two men, ready to steal Louis back away from him. Harry curses at himself, under his breath, as he realises the irony of such a thought. Eleanor is trying to steal Louis?! Yeah, right! He belongs to her - the ring on his finger proves that. Harry despises El's efforts to pull her husband's attention onto her, but the truth of it all is that Harry is the only thief in the room.
However, it isn't like Louis rejected Harry's advances. If anything, Louis welcomed them with open arms - like an expensive vase or famous painting begging for you to steal it from it's home at the museum.

For the next hour and a half, Lillian talks endlessly. About her life, her rich parents, her modern house, her expensive car. Harry pretends to listen, twirling his now-empty champagne glass inbetween his fingertips, waiting for the server to refill it and counting the light fixtures on the large ceiling. 144. He's already gulped seven glasses. He should slow down.
Harry peeks over across the ballroom - as Lillian chatters on to herself - to where Louis stands. He's talking to a business associate, with a glass in one hand and his other casually sat inside his trouser pocket. He grins, as the conversation continues, in his element. The purple light hits him in such a way that makes Harry's chest tighten.
This is when Louis looks the most beautiful, the most himself - in these few-and-far-between candid moments.

Mrs Tomlinson now decides to approach her husband and as Harry watches, she pulls him into the centre of the room, where a few dancing couples are found. He resists his wife at first, but her persuasion skills are just too good, and seconds later, Louis' hands are resting on E's waist, as she leads them both in a slow circle. Her eyes cross the room and click onto Harry's, marking her territory. She's not the same woman as she was earlier in Room 193. Her heart's cold, as she tightens her grip around her husband's shoulders, refusing to ever let her mask slip again.

Lillian won't stop talking, as Harry's focus remains stuck on the seemingly-happy couple in the centre of the ballroom. It's only when E leans her face upwards toward Louis, pressing her lips against his, that Harry diverts his eyes. He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers, and decides that this is it. He can't sit here any longer.
With nothing more than a polite grin towards Lillian, Harry stands from his seat, slamming the empty glass down onto the table and marching away from where he was sat.

Louis' eyes scan the room as he slowly dances with his wife and catches the figure of Harry storming across the room. He watches silently - E's head on his chest - as Lillian stands from her seat also and rushes over to him, grabbing for Harry's arm as she reaches him. He halts his movements, watching the scene before him, pulling E's attention towards Harry too.
Lillian pleads with Harry for him to stay, but he shakes his head and looks over, catching Louis' gaze. Mrs Tomlinson groans quietly, just a whisper, before turning her attention back to her husband. Louis still watches Harry, waiting, but once again, E steals his focus, pulling him by the chin to look down at her, as she smiles, sweetly...fakely, and leans upwards, kissing him again. He tries to resist, but she pushes into him hard, forcing the kiss.

Harry witnesses this second kiss, and it sends bubbling rage through his veins. Lillian stands by his side, a full foot shorter than him, waiting for his decision to stay or go.

And without much thought - or any thought at all - he turns to face the young girl, arching his body down to her level, and driving his lips onto hers. She kisses him back almost immediately, reaching her hands up to cradle his face with her cold palms. He kisses her hard, one long movement, his eyes open, uncomfortable with kissing her, but Louis' pained reaction is one that he craves.
Louis stands still - shocked and hurt - visible in the corner of Harry's eye as he releases from the kiss, exhaling. Refusing to meet Lillian's hopeful eyes, Harry turns once again and walks away, out of the room and out of the building, his eyes misty with tears, his throat thick with regret.

Eleanor tugs at Louis' sleeve, as Harry parades out of sight, eager to have her husband's attention centred towards herself, wanting to tell him her important news. But he's stuck, frozen to his spot, his eyes never leaving the main door of the building...

Chapter Image was found on Pinterest