the light's on but nobody's home || l.s

vii

harry

harry is on the verge of a breakdown.

he's currently sat on the pristine toilet, trying so hard not to scream his lungs out.

why is louis tomlinson so beautiful?

he's making it hard for harry to push him away. and it doesn't help that he's wearing a tight ravishing suit that makes his waist look small and dainty.

fuck.

control yourself, styles.

pushing his thoughts away and tucking them into the deepest part of his brain, harry stands up and straightens his suit. he carefully studies the details of the embroidery, tracing the fabric with the tip of his fingers. he then proceeds to fix his hair, not a single strand out of place. he has to look perfect.

and for once in his life he wants to look perfect not for the sake of his father, but for louis.

"i've fallen in too deep, haven't i?" he sighs as he stares at himself in the mirror, his own emerald eyes piercing through his soul.

he doesn't notice when someone clears their throat behind him.

"i don't know if you're a narcissist or anything but it seems like you're eye fucking yourself, mate," harry's breath hitches when he realizes who was speaking.

"louis what are you doing in here?"

"well, i was going to take a wee and all the other bathrooms were locked and this one wasn't but i'm assuming that you forgot to lock the door...?" louis hastily replies, his cheeks evidently turning red.

when silence engulfs the bathroom and only the sounds of their breathing can be heard, louis speaks up.

"i should leave now, i'm sorry."

harry doesn't miss the chance to quickly grab louis by his arm.

louis looks at him, waiting for harry to say something. anything.

but he doesn't dare to utter a single word, too enthralled by the unrealistically beautiful being that is louis.

"harry, let go of me."

"stay."

and so he does.

•••

louis

louis locks the door behind him and walks closer to harry, gingerly placing his warm hands onto harry's cold ones. softly, louis wipes a tear that dripped down harry's undeniably perfect face, whispering reassuring things to him.

"hey, i'm here, you're okay. it's okay."

to be frank, louis doesn't know what the hell is going on but he knows it's only right to comfort harry.

"why are you like this?" harry says as he looks down to his polished jet black shoes. the feeling of louis' soft hands on his cheek makes him want this moment to last forever.

"like what?"

"you. why are you so nice to me? i was being awfully mean to you earlier and now you're here wiping my tears away, telling me it's okay. but it's not okay. nothing's okay in my life. it fucking sucks, living like everything's fine when deep down you know it isn't. when you're so emotionally bruised that smiling feels like a chore. when all everyone around you cares about is how you look like and how you present yourself. when it's always "don't be sad, man up" but never "it's okay to be sad, it'll be alright". when everything hurts and all you want is to numb the pain away–"

"shh... harry? are you done?"

harry doesn't speak, he only looks into louis' eyes.

"breathe for me, darling."

as harry focuses on his breaths, eyes closed, he feels louis lips on his cheeks, kissing his tears away.

louis knows this isn't right, that he's going to regret this later. he knows that harry will push him away after this. he knows that he's taking things too far.

yet he enjoys the feeling of kissing the face of someone he has a feeling would let him go so easily.

harry takes louis' hand and places it on his chest. he feels harry's heartbeat, beating at a moderate pace.

louis is skeptical. it hurt, knowing that he doesn't have that much of an effect on harry. he searches for an answer in his twinkling green eyes.

their faces inch closer and closer, and louis can feel harry's heart rate increase.

"harry."

"louis."

they kiss. a sweet, long, chaste kiss.

his stomach erupts in a swarm of butterflies. harry's heart rate is quick, and it's loud. louis can't help but smile, now realizing that he actually does have quite an impact on harry.

"that's how i feel about you," harry whispers as they pull away, so quiet yet the words manage to send a chill down louis' spine.

louis is too stunned to speak, he's so overwhelmed by the taste of harry, by the scent of harry, and by the words that we're spoken to him.

and he longs for it; his lips.

but before he can continue the kiss, harry's already out the door.

louis takes a moment to process the current issue. why did harry leave? did he do something wrong?

were his lips not good enough for him?