Chasing Empty Spaces

Chapter 7

“I don’t wanna go back.”

“I know, Stud.”

Louis continued to card his hand through Harry’s hair, nimble fingers gently loosening bedhead knots. Harry blinked up at the older man as Louis pushed the limp tresses away from his forehead. The meat of Louis’ thigh acted as a pillow for his head that Sunday morning. A crackled hum of a radio filtered underneath the crack of the door, Liam and Zayn’s voices murmuring a hushed accompaniment.

When the two of them came back from their date at the park, the four men collectively decided to stay in for the evening. Harry was tucked underneath Louis’ arm as they sucked on cigars and traded listless thoughts. Their backs rested against the foot of the sofa, legs extended and tangled together. Louis’ hands were steady as they caressed Harry’s shoulder with lethargic strokes. Liam pattered through the kitchen, cooking chicken breasts and grits for them as Zayn set the table. Harry wordlessly watched the pair as they floated around each other with ease, exchanging small touched against wrists and waists.

Harry lucidly dreamed of him traipsing through a small kitchen, feet moving over worn floorboards with a practiced ease that comes from memory. He would look over his shoulder to see Louis swaying in place to a spinning record, beryl irises flickering from the titles that lined the album’s jacket to Harry’s gaze. Harry would flush and turn back towards the stovetop, grin stretched over his mouth as he listened to the delicate lilt of Louis’ voice over a Benny Goodman track.

Louis had caught him dreaming, his voice pulling Harry from his revere. He nosed against Harry’s temple and exhaled, “One day.”

Alone, the two words would have been vague to any other person. To Harry, they were a promise.

They ate around the tattered table, chilled beers in hand and friendly banter rolling in the air. Zayn’s attitude towards Harry had simmered and was a far cry from how it had been at the diner. It seemed that Harry was not the only one more than relieved by the change. Liam had a pleased smile on his puppy face, light dancing over his eyes as he rested his hands behind his head. Louis wasn’t much better, looking obscenely proud of himself as he coaxed conversation between Harry and Zayn. Well, that was until the two men teamed up and teased Louis mercilessly for his blatant efforts. With a clink of their cans, Harry and Zayn laughed as they cheered, an unspoken comradery budding between them.

That night, Louis hovered over his body with plush lips lightly dragging over the column of Harry’s throat. Murmured whispers of adoration blanketed the room in warmth. Harry couldn’t be positive whose mouths the sentiments were falling from by the time the moon hung directly overhead in a star-speckled sky. After a final brush of their lips, Harry fell asleep with his body curled around Louis’. He woke up to the faint pepper of kisses that Louis was pressing to the height of his cheekbone. A flush painted Harry’s cheeks and he burrowed into the crook of Louis’ neck, only moving when Louis left to get a glass of water. When Louis returned, he pulled Harry’s head into his lap and hummed to the muted rhythm that purred from Liam’s radio.

Harry’s bottom lip jutted out, “When can we come back?”

A fond smile pulled the corner of Louis’ mouth, “Whenever you want.”

“Whenever, huh?” Harry teased, pushing himself upright.

Louis lifted an eyebrow and playfully amended, “Within reason.”

Harry narrowed his eyes and crawled into Louis’ lap in a feline matter, thighs bracketing Louis’ hips. Louis easily rested his hands along the dip of his waist, thumbs pressing into the soft skin. The torturous words that his subconscious pelted at him were subdued by Louis’ grasp, by his mouth. Every touch felt as if Harry was feeding a part of himself that had been neglected the past eighteen years. He wanted to drink Louis in until he satisfied the craving, but with every kiss, he only ached for more. Possibly, Harry would never reach the point where he didn’t want more of Louis.