Pleatorial - Larry Stylinson AU

Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

When Louis awoke to the screaming of his alarm, he certainly knew he did not want to get up. He was warm, and comfortable, and so well rested for a change. Barely any light filtered in through the corner window, and just left the room a dark hole to awake to, giving the illusion momentarily that his eyes were still closed when they hesitantly creaked open.

Last night was a blur, and he wasn't even sure exactly what had happened, that was until he gently lifted his head up off of whatever it was resting on, and looked back. His breath caught in his throat when his eyes drank in the sight of a peaceful, and angelic face.

Harry had stayed with him all night. 

The bot's eyes flickered open fluidly with the movement, the robotic pupils contracting as he did so, a ghost of a smile mimicing the one that now painted Louis' lips. 

"Good morning." Louis whispered, studying his features over and over again, like he was a map he needed to memorize. He ever so slowly leaned forward, until his lips met with the others', molding together perfectly.

This kiss wasn't lustful, and needy as it had been the night before, but much more affectionate and caring- slow and artistic. Their lips moved slowly together, tongues rolling against one another. A pleasant and idyllic smile momentarily parted them on Louis' half. He pressed one more chaste kiss before leaning back slowly and grinning fully, his hair tousseled messily, eyes hazed with sleep- yet his smile still seemed glowing and fully awake. 

Again, they fell into a comfortable silence, and just looked affectionately at one another. Louis' view was obstructed by Harry's large hand, which tentatively reached up and gently pushed away a piece of feathery hair that had fallen infront of the man's eyes. 

"Would you like me to start breakfast, Louis?" Harry obediently, and thoughtfully inquired, cocking his head to the side as his robotic eyes traveled along the plains of his face, falling on his lips. Louis grinned, nodding quickly, leaning forward and planting one more chaste kiss to those perfect lips before sliding off the bed and pulling on a robe. 

Harry filed out into the open living area, totally nude. Louis followed, giggling incessantly as he watched him fluidly pull out the apron from a cupbard, placing it over his smooth body. He didn't take notice of Louis, who just leaned against the counter, grinning like an idiot as he watched him crack eggs like a chef. 

He walked up behind the bot, kissing his bare shoulder blade before leaning his forehead against it. He wrapped his arms around the front of his waist as he did so, breathing in his unique scent. He studied the long, faint blue seam running down his spine and traced it over and over, trying to forget that he wasn't really alive. 

And then he ached to hear his rough voice again, wanted to hear it fill the room and he asked the first question that came to his mind. 

"Where would you go, Harry, if you could go anywhere in the world?" Louis inquired, his voice muffled against his skin. He wasn't sure why he asked this, because certainly, android's were not supposed to have preference, control over their own wants. 

But the room was silent besides the rhythmic noise of him whisking eggs as he seemingly thought over his answer.

"Brittany, France." He answered, his voice sounding distant, reflecting an idyllic emotion, as though he thought of it now. Louis smiled as well, sighing out lightly against his back. 

"Sounds perfect. Sing something in french for me, will you, Hazza?" He wasn't sure what made him want to hear him sing, or why he suddenly nicknamed him that, but it was fluid and came out naturally. Another few moments, as Harry seemed to decide on which song he would sing, and when he did, chills laced up Louis' spine. 

Quand il me prend dans ses bras

Il me parle tout bas

Je vois la vie en rose

Il me dit des mots d'amour

Des mots de tous les jours

Et ça me fait quelque chose

Il est entré dans mon coeur

Une part de bonheur

Dont je connais la cause

C'est lui pour moi

Moi pour lui dans la vieIl me l'a dit, l'a juré pour la vie

Louis recognized the song instantly, his mother had used to sing it to him when he was a child. La Vie en Rose. 

The melody was so distinct, and the way Harry sang it was rough, his voice like gravel, yet his pronunciation was spot on- crisp and perfect french, and it drug Louis further into this feeling. He sang like an angel. 

Tears suddenly burned up into his eyes, and he gripped him harder, burying his nose into his spine as he finished the song. 

"That was beautiful, Haz." He croaked out, repeatedly kissing his spine, and Harry looked over his shoulder at him, grinning.

"Thank you." He whispered, and Louis could have sworn he saw tears in those robotic eyes. 

Louis hailed a cab to go to work, nearly forgetting he had walked home yesterday. He was grinning from ear to ear, which grabbed a few by-passers attention in the radial glee that eminated from him. 

All the way to work, he was beaming, watching the gleaming buildings blur by in a haze of idyllic happiness. 

As he walked up the marble steps to the stainless steel doors of the office building, he even went as far to whistle. He strolled through the gigantic lobby, to the employee elevators, about to slide his key card in, when the doors swung open, and out came a slur of people, one bumping into him. He stumbled backwards, a mantra of apologies chanting from his lips as he steadied himself, turning to see who had bumped into him.

Of course it had been Eleanor, who was just walking away, sending an off look back at him, her mouth in a thin line as she swept out the front doors. 

He just rolled his eyes, in too good of a mood to pass any other thought on it, before walking into the lift.

Louis' mood lasted, fueling him to get more work done than he believed he had ever done. Co-workers even noticed, some pausing by his cubicle to comment on it, and he'd just nod and smile, not saying anything. Liam and Niall noticed at lunch, and gave him crazed looks, interrogating him on what happened but he just said that his night was good. 

As they all filed back up to their cubicles, Louis began whistling again, swinging into his cubicle, sitting in his chair and rolling about, to face his computer. Something bright yellow caught his eye, and he looked down at his desk.

It was a posted-note. 

He peeled it off, reading the trim, black ink, his mouth instantly going dry. Tears rushed to his eyes, and horror spilt through his veins, every inch of him instantly aching. A terrified cry raked up his throat.

I know about your little robot. Say goodbye, Louis. xx