You drive me round the bend - l.s

Chapter 4

Charles Austin's office had been built to impress. As Harry sat down on a chair and shifted his gaze from the staggeringly beautiful view to the wall on his left, covered floor-to-ceiling with photos of Charles with every music star imaginable, he knew he should have been intimidated. He would have been, if it hadn't been for the muted echo of LouisLouisLouis playing on constant loop in his brain.

The way he'd looked at Harry, unblinking and guarded, mouth taut as he ducked Harry's gaze as if he didn't exist. As if he'd never touched Louis at all.

Doesn't matter. Not right now. Not ever. Not why I'm here.

"You made me miss it, you know," Charles told him, fingers steepled, eyes crinkling at the edges. Harry felt a disquieting, vague sense of déjà vu that he couldn't place. "Don't get me wrong. My position has a lot of perks, but... I guess you can take the guy out of A&R, but you can't take the A&R out of a guy."

Harry managed a smile, pretended his heart wasn't about to beat out of his chest.

"Do you miss scouting then?" he asked, because Niall had always been obsessed with the inner workings of the music industry and Harry had been his reluctantly willing recipient. He'd also Googled the guy's resume. Charles Austin, the executive vice president, former talent scout and manager of the biggest names in the music industry.

Shit. Just... don't lose your head. Don't let him sweet-talk you into some bullshit kind of deal. The last thing Harry wanted was to get what he'd wanted all his life, only to become a slave, dressed up and cut into pieces to fit the mold.

"So you know your lingo then?" Charles' eyes lit up and he leaned back in his chair, the LA skyline lying at his feet.

Harry wondered what it felt like to be at the top of the world, wondered if he'd find out himself one day.

"I know a little," he admitted, hands a little clammy as Charles asked him to give him a sample of his music. As Harry handed the USB stick over, he wondered if his foot wouldn't stop jiggling because he was a breath away from finally being on the right path or knowing Louis had never been a path at all.

****

"Are you stalking me then?"

Harry's step faltered, the April breeze warm and dry on his skin. The tips of his fingers felt cold.

He turned on his heel, the voice sparking a certain note of recognition now. The voice and the bathroom and Louis. Fuck.

Dragging his own gaze off the crack in the pavement to meet Louis' eyes was harder then he'd expected. He refused to feel any sympathy for someone who had everything given to him on a silver platter, for someone who had begged for Harry in the backseat of his car even though he probably had a boyfriend.

"I wasn't—"

"Thanks for the home visit, by the way. You didn't have to," Louis said it carelessly, tone bordering on curious contempt. His legs were crossed at the ankle as he leaned against the side of the building, a lit cigarette between slender fingers, the sleeve of his shirt stained light brown.

Harry hated himself for wanting to press his teeth into Louis' Achilles heel, to suck bruises into the delicate bones of his bare ankles until it hurt. Maybe he was just as awful of a person as Louis was.

"I did have to," he said, refusing to give Louis the fight he was clearly looking for, even though anger was starting to prickle up his spine. Just because he didn't have as much money didn't mean he'd keep things that weren't his. "Not my coat, is it?"