Fine Line || L.S.

Between Hatred and Devotion

~

8/30/17

It is late August and I am in love.

I'm watching him move from our room to the bathroom from our bed. It's four pm. What a luxury I can be in bed at this time of day.

What a luxury I can be with him.

We have two windows in our bathroom; they look over the Valley. The sun is pouring in through them and hitting him just right, hitting the room just right. He doesn't look real.

A lot of times he doesn't look real. Like he's one blink from disappearing and I wake up, and none of this has happened. And maybe he's not home, or maybe I'm not home. And he's not humming, the noise isn't kissing the marble and then making its way towards me.

He's not wearing the shorts he's had since we met and the shirt I bought him for his birthday. I'm not naked, wrapped up in our sheets, wanting him back on me.

He just said my name.

This is real.

He told me to come take a shower with him. He can never just sleep after sex. All I want to do is sleep after sex. I'm going to take a shower with him. Touch him, to be sure.

He is saying my name again. I need to go.

~

Harry joined Lily on his couch, the fireplace going and the TV playing softly in the background. Lily had to eventually drive home, so she declined another drink, but that didn't stop Harry from finishing the bottle of wine.

"I got him to see me on tour a few times," Harry told her, smiling. "Nothing compared to that feeling of him watching me. He saw me four times, and, each time, we were both seeing other people."

Harry looked at Lily, "I know I'm a bad person. And a disloyal one."

Lily laughed confusedly, "No you aren't."

Harry nodded, laughing a little, but amending his statement, "I make bad decisions. A lot."

Lily looked at him, "Like what?"

Harry took a deep sip of his wine. The alcohol had a big part to play in how forthright he was becoming. "We fucked all four times. He was with Eleanor, I was with... someone."

Harry remembered Louis meeting him backstage, staying around in the dressing room as people came in and out, waiting for the show to be done, so they could go back to Harry's hotel.

In London, they went back to Harry's suite, which looked over the Thames and London Bridge. Harry remembered being up there for the Midnight Memories video, how Louis kept on pretending to fall, enjoying the rise it got out of Harry.

That was the first time they had seen each other since the beginning of the tour, and the new year had just been rung in. The normal gentleness they felt was absent—as soon as they were in the hotel room, Harry was pressed roughly against a wall, Louis was kissing him like he was looking for something.

The sex felt so empty; Harry was on his back, Louis on top of him, and as Louis thrusted into him, rougher than he ever had or would, Harry looked at him and breathlessly said, "I hate you." When Louis came, into the first condom they had ever used, he felt disgusting.

He disappeared to shower, and when he came out, Louis was waiting by the door. They looked at each other for a moment, before Louis said, "This was a mistake."

Harry nodded, raising his eyebrows, insinuating, "well, that's obvious."

Louis looked at him, emotionless as if the snarky gesture was offensive. "Come on, Harry."