Red Brick Heart

7

The next day Harry doesn't wake up until one o'clock in the afternoon: the room's cold and Louis is already gone, and there's a little Post-It note stuck to Harry's chest:

Gone home til Tuesday, I hope you're gonna put this room to good use ! show the ladies some styles lovin', you deserve it :)

Lou x

He groans, holding the note loosely in his hands as he rolls over, the sheets warm but also weirdly empty without Louis. Harry knows he should be grateful for the space, knows that he's a gangly ball of limbs at the best of times and sleeping this cramped up can't be good for his bad back, but personal space has never really bothered him and he loves being close to people. He's always been a cuddler and he loves that Louis lets him do this, lets him be close to him that way; sometimes he can't believe his luck that they got put in the same room together.

(Other times, like when Louis won't ever get out of bed before 11 and refuses to walk down to the laundry room to do his washing and won't make his bed and stinks up the room with his multitude of hair products and when he spends hours loudly talking on the phone while Harry's trying to do work – that's not so fun. But having a warm body to wake up to and watching Louis's face as he struggles with the washing machine and teases his fringe into just the right place and coos over his younger sister...and he's back to square one again).

He's hit by a fleeting urge to send Louis a text that reads I miss you already before he remembers that no, that's not really appropriate, and then the memories from last night trickle in. He groans, throwing an arm over his eyes as his dick pulses hotly at the memory of Louis's soft, desperate moans as he rutted against him. He stills his hand as it automatically reaches for his dick before remembering he's alone, finally, and letting his hand rest teasingly on his lower stomach, just contemplating. He wonders what would happen if he just ignored it again, let himself wait, wait, wait, until he's got Louis pretty and flushed and panting next to him again, but the minute he remembers he's got four days alone in his room he knows it's fruitless. Pointless, even, and besides, he's never had that much self control.

He slips his hand into his boxers, exhaling shakily as he finally gets a hand on himself, the touch almost foreign and so so good, biting his lip as his other hand moves to his nipple. It's quick and dirty – he's not really even thinking about anything, just how good it feels, and when he comes it's like it won't ever stop, keeps going on and on and on, and by the end he feels a bit light-headed and fuzzy. He looks down and he's absolutely covered, which is absurdly hilarious, and then he's just chuckling to himself, alone in his room and covered in come.

If only Louis could see you now, his stupid brain wonders, and then his stupid dick gives a feeble twitch of interest and he has to sit up and ignore that.

He cleans himself up as best he can with tissues and then heads to the bathroom for a long and luxuriant shower, which is slightly ruined when the water decides to run freezing cold for several seconds and makes him bang his elbow on the wall in shock. When he gets back to his room he's got a snapchat from Louis at the station and a text from Nick that says if you want a bit of a radio induction i'm on tomorrow morning at 8, I can show you around xx.

He's got nothing else do to but work so he replies yeah thanks would be good see you there .x as he's getting dressed, half-heartedly pouffing up his hair and then settling down on his bed to work. He boots his laptop up, biting his thumbnail, and it's just – weirdly silent. For the first time he can hear the clock on the desk ticking, the cranking of the boiler in the kitchen, and it's just wrong without Louis here chatting away.

Whatever. He'll just do some reading. He'll do some reading and put his music up loud. That's fine.

That lasts for about five minutes, when Harry decides he absolutely needs a cup of tea before he can get on with his day – also, he thinks he can hear someone in the kitchen, and he needs conversation. He practically leaps off of his bed and across the hall into the kitchen to find Perrie in a big jumper and pyjama bottoms already standing at the kettle.