Birds in Gilded Cages

Chapter 7-From Pornos to Shakespeare

Chapter 7-From Pornos to Shakespeare

It had been a week since their appointment and Louis knew now that what he was feeling about Harry was…Not love; it couldn’t be love…could it?  No, it was more like a sweet addiction, a constant craving only sated in quiet alone moments at his desk, in the back of a chauffeur-driven car, or lying on his bed. Then he could collapse into recollections of the sensation of Harry’s hair between his fingers, the taste of his mouth, his goblin smile, how he’d looked at the peak of his release, head thrown back, eyes screwed tight shut, and the noise he’d made…The most exquisite keening sound.  Sometimes he’d even allow himself to daydream about that alternate universe in which they were just a normal couple, doing everyday things like shopping for groceries, cooking meals together, going the cinema…If only he could hide in that imaginary universe forever. But soon enough he’d be yanked back to reality by the buzz of his office intercom or a phone call from Eleanor gushing over some new wedding venue.  At least being on the other end of a line from New York made it easy to seem interested.  Yet no matter how sweet his memories and daydreams were, they were always quickly followed by waves of crushing, sickening guilt. Not only because of Eleanor, but also because he was now pretty sure that Harry was being exploited, was absolutely sure that his booking him supported it…And yet he still wanted to book him again, more than anything. And there was no one to blame for any of it but him…If he wasn’t such a horrible, selfish, twisted person then neither of them would be hurt. And so he punished himself…

He lifted his arm and drew the razor blade slowly across his flesh. Scarlet blood dripped onto the crisp white bed-sheets. The pain made him gasp.

Suddenly the door behind him swung open. “Mr Louis, your father wants to see you.”  He spun round, hurriedly yanking the sleeve of his jacket down to conceal the cut, but the look of shock on the maids face told him she’d already seen it.  “Are you…Are you alright Sir?”

He avoided her gaze. “Yes, yes I’m fine…”

“Are you sure? I thought I saw blood. Did you hurt yourself?  I could go get the first aid kit?”

 “LEAVE IT!” The minute the snarl left his lips he regretted it.  “I-I mean thank you for your concern Kate…But that won’t be necessary.”  He kept his tone cold and emotionless. He rolled the sleeve of his jacket back down and stood, trying to keep his expression impassive and depressingly aware that he sounded just like his father.  “You were saying..?”

For a moment she stared at him, confused. Then she blinked and ducked her head.  “Your father is demanding to see you. He’s in his study.” 

“Thank you Kate.” He could feel her gaze burning into his back as he left the room.

His father was at his desk when he entered, mobile phone clamped to his ear. He snapped his fingers at him and pointed at the chair in front of them. Louis sat, gritting his teeth in irritation, and flung his feet up onto the desk between them, crossing them at the ankle and smirking at his father’s scowl.

“Yes, yes…As usual some idiot’s fucked it up and I have to go sort it.  The way things are going I might as well fucking move to Japan and be done with it.”  If only, Louis thought wistfully.  “Right, so make sure you forward me those contracts…Yes…Talk Monday.” He hung up the phone and turned to look at him, his lips curling in disgust, as if his only son was something the cat had thrown up. “Feet!” Louis lowered them reluctantly. “Christ Louis, why do you keep insisting on wearing those bloody football jackets?  You look like a chav.”

“We’re not in the office Dad.  I’ll wear whatever the fuck I want to.”

His father rolled his eyes. “This rebellious teenager act is getting old Lou, but suit yourself…I have bigger problems. I’m needed in the Tokyo office immediately and I want you to keep things ticking over here in London. Think you can manage it?”