You drive me round the bend - l.s

Chapter 8

Louis didn't even wait for him. He just turned on his heel and started walking away, expecting Harry to follow. The entire guest house was eerily quiet and Harry felt like his every breath sounded as loud as a gunshot as he followed Louis up to the ground floor and then up another flight of stairs, the bare soles of Louis' feet slapping on the glassy steps.

"Damn it," Louis said suddenly, pausing. "Think I forgot my charger."

"Are you not—" Harry started, his voice too loud even to his own ears, "can you not go get it from the main house?"

Louis gripped the banister and resumed walking up the stairs. Harry wasn't proud of the way his gaze lingered on the gentle sway of Louis' hips, but he was too weak to stop, his conscience firing excuse after excuse of Charles doesn't give a fuck about him and Louis doesn't even love him.

"I could," Louis said quietly. "Don't want to step inside that house before I absolutely have to though. Not until they're all gone. I'd much rather move in here permanently, if I could."

"Why don't you?" Harry asked before he could remind himself to stop sticking his nose where it didn't belong.

Louis shrugged. Harry wished he could see Louis' face. "Too much hassle to move all my stuff."

Harry doubted that was the only reason but had enough judgment left to bite down on his tongue this time. Something told him Charles wouldn't let Louis out of his sight like that.

It was so fucked up.

He tripped as they reached the landing and barely caught himself on the banister, blushing when Louis glanced over his shoulder. He wondered if it was karma catching up to him.

"Well, don't brain yourself, Curly. Don't want all my efforts to be in vain."

He'd meant it to be scathing, probably. Teasing, definitely. Too bad Harry's brain was stuck on the 'Curly', refusing to budge.

"Yeah," was all Harry managed.

Louis let out an exasperated sigh and started moving again, flicking the lights on. The narrow corridor lit up with a golden hue. It made Louis' skin look soft and shiny and Harry's fingertips were itching with the urge to slide down the back of Louis' neck, a tremor of deep-seated want settling in his bones.

He didn't even notice Louis stop, stumbled right into his body, hands catching on Louis' hips to keep his balance. He let go as if burned, breathing in through his mouth to get rid of Louis' scent lingering in his nose. Fuck, he smelled good.

"Sorry," he said, wiping his palms on his thighs even though they weren't even sweaty. He wanted to touch Louis so bad it was becoming an exercise in restraint.

"'S fine," Louis said quietly, his back to Harry. He pushed the door to the room open and turned the lights on. "Someone comes around here every week to keep everything clean, so... no need to worry about the state of the sheets."

Harry stepped past the doorstep and watched Louis stride over to the window, unlatching it and opening it wide.

"A bit stuffy in here though," Louis said, a light breeze stirring his soft hair. He hadn't put any product in it and Harry wondered what it would feel like if he buried his hands in it right now.

He tried not to think about them being here alone. That he could just crowd Louis against the bed and topple them over, kiss the hollow of Louis' throat without having to worry someone would catch them.

"What?" Louis asked, facing him now.

Harry didn't realize he'd been staring. His tongue felt too heavy in his mouth, weighed down with all the words he couldn't say out loud. He settled on, "I'm sorry, Louis."