Modest Oblivion - Book 6 (Larry Stylinson AU)

Chapter 23 - Set met free, why don't you babe?

Set me free, why don’t you babe?

“Look at me!” Louis bellowed, this was no question but a commandment. 

He found strength in his frustration, sought courage in Harry’s face and found solace when their eyes connected like watercolours colliding on a canvas. His boldness arose from an undeniable desperation to make things right with Harry, with his love. 

No matter how hard Harry pushed, Louis would push harder because this wasn’t just a relationship anymore. Things had gone from ‘simple’ to ‘it’s complicated,’ long ago. When they met, it was simple… sort of. Louis fell in love with Harry and Harry with Louis. Though when Louis knew what he wanted Harry was afraid. 

Afraid to follow his heart and admit his sexuality and afraid of getting hurt.

Now Louis was the one in a full scale panic, terrified of what Harry was going to say. Or perhaps equally as terrified of all the things Harry wouldn’t say.

Louis was defiant as he stood in the bathroom staring into Harry’s face, he was protective of Harry but he was just as protective of himself. 

It was his heart on the line, his life and he had been down that broken road before… without Harry. He wouldn’t do it again, the mere consideration of letting Harry walk away was out of the question. 

Louis was holding on by a thread, his guilt from Dakota’s amnesia and Porter’s death trickled like a never ending faucet through his mind. Louis was in a fight against his beating heart and Harry’s unmoving defiance. 

Louis’ breath was heavy, he sucked in the precious oxygen as he tried to calm down.

But he couldn’t.

How could he calm down when Harry was shutting him out, when Harry was slamming an emotional door in his face? How could Louis even consider relaxing when Harry was so on edge that his muscles tensed to breaking point? How could he relax when his dream of being a singer slowly slipped away, as others climbed the charts and the boys fell behind? How could he relax when his wedding, the wedding of his dreams was shattering like a rock thrown through a glass window. 

Didn’t they say people in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones? Louis paused, faltering as he clenched his own teeth and pondered. Was he throwing the stones or was Harry? 

Suddenly his happy life with his happy, curly haired boy was becoming a faded disjointed memory. They were puzzle pieces that fit together as if they were moulded for each other. Or so he thought, when Harry looked at him he fell in love all over again. When he awoke from a heavy, dreamless sleep Harry was always right there offering a sweet kiss and chaste secrets.

Louis felt his knee’s wobble beneath him, unsteady from the weight of his body and the weight of his unravelling control on the situation. Harry was his own person, thinking, breathing and feeling things Louis was unable to know. It was times like these that Louis wished he were telepathic, that his mind could break through Harry’s thoughts and pick them apart one by one.

His heart was racing, his blood boiling like molten lava as his hands clenched around the loose neckline of Harry’s white shirt.

Harry was still, like a mannequin within his grasp. He froze, Louis’ anger catching him off guard and his face paled. 

Louis shuddered, “What is happening?” The question came out more as a hollow sob from deep within the cavity in his chest. The shattering cavity where his heart beat and rattled as uneasily as his unsteady knees. 

“It’s not so simple anymore,” Harry said through gritted teeth. 

Louis noted something, noted the way Harry’s faux anger didn’t reach his eyes. His body, displayed resistance in every pulsing beat of the exposed artery in his neck. His muscles so tense Louis swore he could hear the grinding of Harry’s bones against one another.