To Slow Down The Time (1/2)
Title: To Slow Down The Time
Pairing: Harry / Louis, Louis / Zayn
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~9,500
Disclaimer: Completely untrue; completely fictional
Summary: Louis doesn't normally meet boys in public restrooms, but he meets Harry anyway.
“I reckon I’d shag Robert Pattinson,” Louis says once they’ve pulled up to the curb. “Only if he kept his mouth shut, though.”
Zayn rumble-laughs around the spliff. “Why’s that?”
Louis shrugs. “Seems like a loon.”
“You’re probably right.” He hands Louis the rest to finish off. “A right nutter. Like you.”
Louis hums his agreement, breathes deep. Through the weed, he can see the cogs turning in Zayn’s head from the way he checks his eyes in the rearview mirror and sprays the Febreeze he keeps in his glove compartment. It’s been a while since they’ve hung out and whenever he thinks of the reason why, he gets a little sick. He figures a late night showing of Breaking Dawn isn’t a bad price to pay for time with his best friend.
“Christ,” Zayn coughs. “My throat’s all scratchy.”
“Like you’re not used to it.” Louis takes one last drag and throws the rest out the window, thankful for some fresh air. “Come inside for a glass of water? You could spend the night.”
Zayn smiles - just sad enough for Louis to feel guilty about it.
“Thanks, but I’ve got a bottle in the back. And.” He rests his hand gently around Louis’ wrist. “Should probably get home, anyway. Liam worries.”
“Right.” He fumbles for the door handle. “He could. Join us, maybe, one day. If he wanted. If you wanted. Does he smoke, anyway?”
“Probably not. Doesn’t even know that I do. This, that is.”
Louis lets himself out of the car. “You’re even more fucked up than I am.”
“Yeah. Maybe,” Zayn concedes. “You’re driving next time we see a shitty movie, by the way. Put some petrol in your car.”
Once Zayn is gone and Louis’ inside, he wonders when next time might be.
***
Louis is a restless sleeper, and more so lately than usual.
He messes with the heating and tangles in and out of his sheets and waits until half past three before pulling his headphones out, opting for total silence instead. It takes some time like it always does, and tonight, he half-dreams about Zayn and when he used to live here, when he filled the empty spaces in the bookshelf and in the cabinets and in Louis’ bed. He gets cold just thinking about it, but he pulls the duvet over his shoulders and finally forces himself to sleep.
***
He’s running late when he finally gets to work the next day. It’s a relatively shitty morning but he’s already called out several times in the last month, so he has to go. But Zayn’s text - dinner with me an liam this week? - haunts him the whole way there. He misses the morning rush and he’s silently thankful.
By noon, he takes off his nametag because he hates the way it catches on his jumper. It’s a quiet day in the coffee house with mostly unassuming work, other than when he has to take orders because Aiden hates being in the front. Otherwise, it’s small and it’s tucked away and it pays. And since dropping out of uni, that’s about all he can ask for.
He leaves Zayn’s text unanswered, sitting in his phone and waiting for him like a time bomb. Instead, he thinks about how much simpler it used to be, back when either of them would bring back takeout from the shitty Japanese place down the street and they’d sit cross-legged in front of the television in trackies and socks and nothing else.
They’re not broken up because there was nothing to break up in the first place, but they’re not together either and somehow, it’s unbearable to think about.
When he gets into his car later that evening, he’s famished and he thinks maybe sushi.
***
He lights up in his car and steps into the cool air outside. He never comes to this park, not since Zayn chose - decided on - Liam and moved out of their place together. But the park is right behind the flat and Louis doesn’t feel like going home right away, so why not.
It’s big, he realizes, bigger than he ever gave it credit for. They only ever sat on the swings or on the jungle gym, exchanging a joint and a few jokes between them. But now, there’s a walking trail that he follows away from the playground and into a cluster of trees. Maybe it’s the weed or maybe it’s something else, but he doesn’t mind walking through the dark. It’s a safe area and he thinks he’s a fast enough runner, if it ever comes to that.
He’s heavy-lidded and feeling just right, and he sends a silent word of thanks to anyone up there that he has the day off tomorrow. Maybe he’ll spend it on the sofa watching movies, or maybe he’ll finally Skype his sisters because he can’t even imagine how much bigger they’ve gotten.
He misses them, but then again, he’s done enough missing already.
***
There’s a public lavatory ahead, one that looks just about as bad as it smells from over here. But he did have a lot of sake with his sushi earlier and smoking always makes his bladder feel fuzzy for some reason, so fuck it. He needs a wee.
The joint crushes easily under his shoe, and it isn’t until he’s closer to the toilet that he sees a few others standing outside. Other men, he notices. It’s kind of hard to make anything out since there aren’t any lampposts nearby, but he does remember Zayn telling him one thing or another about a cruising scene in the area, so it makes sense in an odd sort of way.
The one closest is dark and lean, hanging out by the litterbin and making eyes at Louis before he even walks in. He doesn’t know why he does it, but he moves his wallet from the back pocket into the front one with his mobile and car keys. He feels stupid afterward, but Dark And Lean only smirks at him.
“And how are you?” Dark And Lean asks, but Louis shrugs him off.
“No thanks.” And he doesn’t know what he’s saying ‘no’ to, but he gets an amused okay anyway and he takes that as permission to go inside.
It’s dimly lit inside with one of the lights flickering overhead. The smell isn’t so bad any more or he’s used to it by now but either way, he can’t help but feel out of his element. Of course he knows of toilets like these and he’s heard enough to know what they’re like. But he’s never been, nor has he ever felt the need. And it’s not like he knew this was here to begin with, practically in his backyard, of all places.
He briefly catches his reflection in the mirror before a stall opens and two men walk out together. One looks lazy and boneless and the other looks pleased with watery, red-rimmed eyes. Louis knows both those looks very well and he lets them leave without so much as a nod of acknowledgement.
Barely half a minute later, two others walk into the room and occupy the stall furthest from him. Louis turns on a faucet, needing the distraction.
“Y’alright there?”
Louis jumps at the voice and turns around to see a tall boy with curly hair leaning against the wall near the door. He hadn’t even noticed him when he came in.
“Excuse me?”
He walks toward Louis and grabs his wrist without hesitating.
“D’you want to get a stall?”
His voice is deep. And it’s husky in a way Louis thinks must work for him a lot of the time. If not, he figures his green eyes and milky skin should do the trick. He wants to reach out and pet the curls lain across his forehead, but instead he shoves his hand into his pocket to grab onto something, just to make sure.
Curly smirks at that, too. “Well?”
“Have you just been waiting here?”
“Maybe.” There’s a ghost of something else on his face, but Louis misses it, whatever it is. “Does it matter?”
“No. I suppose not.”
“So is that a yes? Because you’re kind of stupidly beautiful, and I have a feeling you're the best offer I'm going to get all night.”
And to punctuate his point, he looks at Louis from head to toe and back, his green eyes shameless and hungry.
Louis swallows hard. He still feels loose in a way that’s good, and he knows if he walked back to his car right now, it would all go to waste.
And Zayn is probably curled up with Liam halfway across town, anyway.
"The best offer?" he repeats. "Really?"
Curly's eyes light up and this seems like less and less of a bad idea. "Cross my heart."
Louis smiles, in spite of himself. “Yeah. Okay.”
***
It’s quick, but he supposes that with things like this, they have to be.
When he gets back to his flat, he falls limply into bed without bothering to brush his teeth or shuck off the excess layers of clothing. He should probably shower, or take off his dirty pants at the very least.
But he falls asleep quickly and easily for a change. And when he dreams, he dreams of curls between his fingers and his thighs.
***
Zayn shows up on his doorstep the next day. He doesn’t say anything when he sees Louis in pajama bottoms at four in the afternoon, and he shoulders in without a word. Louis sighs and follows him into the kitchen.
“Did you get my text?” he asks, pouring water from the tap. And when Louis nods, “I wasn’t sure.”
“I was busy.” And Louis doesn’t know what makes him say it, but he adds, “I met somebody last night.”
Zayn’s eyebrow quirks in response but otherwise, nothing. He watches Louis carefully, almost like he's waiting for more. But the subsequent smile on his face is slow and real.
“That’s great, Lou,” he says, and it sounds sincere. “Bring him to dinner tomorrow night?”
“I - dinner? Tomorrow night?”
Zayn rolls his eyes and finishes his water. “Yes, you arsehole. Tomorrow night with me and Liam. That’s what happens when you don’t respond. Plans get made without you.”
Louis pulls a face. “Technically, you’ve made plans with me. I’m only catching up.”
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” Zayn smiles and sets his glass in the sink. “Dress appropriately, won’t you? Meaning no low-cut tanks. And bring your boy.”
He leans against the counter and knits his fingers together in front of him. “I’ll have to think about that dress code. And I’ll be coming alone, sorry to say. The boy was a…” He waves his hand through the air. “One-off thing, I suppose.”
Zayn approaches him, still smiling but softer this time, and holds his wrist like he’s always done. If he notices the light bruise there that Curly left behind, he doesn’t mention it.
“As long as you’re there.” He pecks Louis’ cheek and the spot burns in its wake. “I should leave. I’ve got to pick up Liam from work, and I only wanted to make sure you weren’t sat here purposefully avoiding my text messages.”
“Never.” But it sounds unconvincing even to him, so he winks for good measure. “Now go. I have to rethink my wardrobe for tomorrow.”
Zayn shakes his head fondly. “Nutter.”
When he’s gone, Louis presses down on the bruise just beneath the nub of his wrist, as a reminder.
***
They never got together officially or anything like that. They met at the start of sixth form and got on really well. By wintertime, when his bed got cold, Zayn was there every other night to keep it warm. And it stayed that way for a long while, even when they moved away for uni and Louis found a crappy flat for them to share. They talked about getting a kitten once, but it was always them at the end of the day.
Louis remembers when it started feeling unhealthy, right around the time they realized they couldn’t afford uni anymore. Dates grew few and far between and he stopped thinking of his bed as his own. He thought it was the same for Zayn, who never complained and always curled around him at night. But it wasn’t the same, not when he met Liam at the post office.
Which is why, looking through his closet, Louis figures green jeans and his skintight, white scoop-neck shirt should be appropriate for tonight. Zayn will remember it and that’s what Louis wants - for Zayn to remember.
***
Zayn’s eyes nearly fly out of his head and that’s not exactly what he was going for, but Louis will take it.
“Hiya, Zayn. Liam.” He hugs them each once before sitting down because that’s something he can do. “Sorry I’m late. Couldn’t decide on what to wear.”
“Was that a problem for you, then?” Zayn watches him like he can’t decide between anger and amusement.
Louis shrugs. “‘S a daily trial, darling.”
Liam chuckles and that seems to diffuse Zayn’s mood, even though he can’t stop leering at Louis’ collarbones. “We ordered some starters, if you don’t mind. Don’t know if you like prawns - ”
“Love ‘em,” Louis lies, and he ignores Zayn’s look of confusion from across the table.
Liam beams from across the candlelight and Louis crumples a little on the inside. “Excellent. Thanks for coming, Lou. Z said you’d been busy lately.”
“Kinda.” He swallows around Z and presses on. “Selling cappuccinos and weeping over my broken love life is an all-day endeavor, boys.”
Zayn frowns and Louis pretends not to notice.
“I’ve got a friend I could introduce you to,” Liam offers earnestly. “He’s blond - ”
“Oh, stop right there.” Louis holds a hand up. “Sweet, sweet Liam. ‘Fraid blond’s not my type. Fetch me tall, dark and handsome, and then we’ll talk.”
Liam smiles bashfully and Zayn pointedly avoids Louis’ gaze, kissing his boyfriend’s cheek instead and muttering something about so thoughtful into his ear.
When the waiter comes to take their order, Liam and Zayn ask for 7UP and Louis asks for the biggest glass of red available.
***
Zayn never told Liam about the two of them, and when Louis asked why, he said there was “nothing to tell, anyway.”
***
Dark And Lean isn’t waiting outside the toilet when Louis comes back after dinner. It’s the first place that comes to mind when he leaves the restaurant with a joint between his lips, and he doesn’t even want to think about what that might say about him.
Of the four stalls, two are already occupied and the sounds from inside are absolutely obscene. But Louis keeps his attention on the curly-haired boy standing at the sink with his back turned to him. He looks a little spacey but their eyes meet in the mirror and Curly’s pink lips twist upward.
“I’m Harry, by the way.” He looks at Louis’ trousers. “A bit camp, don’t you think?”
Louis doesn’t respond.
“They match my eyes, at least.” The boy - Harry - turns around to face him full on. “Funny, I didn’t think I’d see you here again.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Harry shrugs. “Not a bad thing. I can just tell with some people.”
“Well, you were wrong.”
Harry’s eyes sparkle when they size him up. “Apparently.” He walks over, immediately holding Louis’ hip with one huge hand and cupping the back of his neck with the other. “Are you going to tell me your name?”
“Louis,” he says as they back into the handicap stall.
“Louis,” Harry repeats, locking the door behind him. “Why’re you here, Louis?” He starts unfastening his braces.
He feels defensive suddenly, even now, when he’s unbuttoning Harry’s trousers. “Had a bit of a shit night, to be honest. Sorry if that wasn’t the answer you were looking for.”
Harry pauses and his eyes light up with mirth. “Seems like a good enough answer for me. Brought you back here, and that’s what matters.” He tosses the braces over the toilet paper roll and digs his fingers into Louis’ waistband.
“Wait.” Louis grabs him by his forearms. “Can we, just, for a moment?”
He doesn’t give Harry a chance to respond before he’s tilting his chin up and they’re kissing. They skipped past this last time, but Harry’s lips are warm and slick and just what he needs right now. He tugs on those curls and Harry responds by reaching around and squeezing his arse.
“What do you want?” Harry breathes into Louis’ mouth.
“Fuck me. Fuck me, yeah.”
Harry kisses his chin sweetly, and it isn’t long before he’s turning Louis around and slipping wet fingers in. Louis braces himself against the wall, grabbing onto a handicap bar for support.
“You have to be quiet,” Harry whispers as he scissors his fingers. “Don’t want to disturb the others.”
Louis can’t see or think straight. “Do you - should I pay you or something?”
Harry laughs as he curls his fingers upward, making Louis shiver down his spine. “I wish I got paid to do this, mate. I work pro bono.”
“Pro boner, more like,” Louis pants, never one to pass up an opportunity. He shudders. “Fucking fuck me already.”
Harry kisses - he likes doing that, apparently - Louis’ shoulder blade and rolls a condom on before nudging in slowly.
Someone in another stall groans loudly, but Louis can’t be bothered.
***
Zayn is already leaning against the brick wall behind the coffee house when Louis gets out. This is something they used to do, and Louis didn’t think he’d show up even after he got the text that morning.
“You’re here,” he says, biting down on his lip to keep from smiling.
“I’m here.” Zayn nods and offers up the Sainsbury’s bag. “Salt beef or roast chicken. Pick your poison.”
“Roast chicken, obviously.” Louis pulls the sandwich out and can’t remember the last time he didn’t have to pack his own lunch, or steal a muffin from the tin inside.
Zayn watches him uncertainly the whole time, like he can’t get past words that he wants to say. But Louis actually prefers the silence and would rather save himself the trouble of making conversation around a mouthful of sandwich. Lunch is good. Lunch is safe.
Louis offers him a cigarette when they’re finished and he tries not to take it personally when Zayn pushes it away.
“Liam asked me to quit,” he explains. “I’m trying.”
He lights up, breathes deep, and nods.
***
He goes over to Liam’s flat one night, watching movies on the television Zayn brought with him from their old flat. Liam smiles at him from where he’s sat in Zayn’s lap and Louis goes through four beers in an hour.
Liam’s friend - Niall - is there, too, and he’s paired with Louis by default when they start playing FIFA. Niall is nice and actually pretty funny and judging from his blond hair, Louis supposes this is the friend Liam mentioned over dinner. He’s laidback and Louis lets him eat his leftover pizza crusts, but he doesn’t think it would work out if they made a go of it. Even here, with Zayn nosing against Liam’s neck, it’s hard to think of anyone in that way.
***
The third time, Harry isn’t there.
It stings at first, but then it reaffirms Louis’ notion that Harry must do something else with his life other than cruise public restrooms. He waits around for five minutes before it starts feeling weird, especially with only one other couple in the room with him.
The nights are getting colder, and Louis wishes he’d brought a coat with him. He combats the chill the only way he knows how, pulling a crumpled cigarette from his back pocket and twining it between his fingers before lighting it and putting it to his lips. He might wank later, but his Internet has been shitty as of late, and he really doesn’t want to rely on memory. Maybe he’ll sleep instead.
When he gets to the parking lot, Harry is there and visibly shocked when his eyes land on Louis.
Louis tosses the cigarette to the ground and digs his hands into his pockets. “You weren’t there.”
“I wasn’t going to come, but I thought twice about it. Glad I did, though.”
Louis shrugs and goosepimples appear along his arms. “It’s cold. I think I’m going to head home instead.”
Harry looks warm in his zip-up and beanie. “Where’s home?”
“Around the corner.”
“This yours?” He nods at the only car in the lot, parked next to his own. “I’ll come with you.”
Something tells him he should say no, but he can always blame it on the cold if anyone asks him later.
***
Harry is the first person that Louis’ had at the flat in ages and he walks around in his red tube socks like he’s already memorized everything in the fifteen minutes he’s been here. He comes out of the kitchen several minutes later with a mug of tea in each hand, setting them down on the coffee table and sidling up close on the ratty old couch. When Louis breathes in, he smells earthy cologne.
“Your kettle’s much better than mine,” Harry says with a lopsided grin. “Mine takes ages to boil.”
“Thanks. Zayn bought it,” he answers without thinking.
“Zayn?”
Louis wrinkles his nose. “Former flatmate and friend-type thingy.”
“‘Friend-type thingy,’” Harry mimics. “Do you have plenty of those?”
“He’s the only one.” And to keep from saying more stupid things, he grabs his tea and pulls a long sip from it.
They sit for a while, drinking from their mugs and watching the muted television in silence. At one point, Harry yawns while stretching his arms and subtly moving closer on the couch. Louis pretends not to notice, but he can practically feel Harry’s body heat rolling off in waves.
It’s weird, having Harry here and realizing that he’s really only met him twice and both times had been for sex. He’s doesn’t normally sleep around (though he could) and since having met Zayn, he can count the number of people he’s slept with on one hand. But he catches Harry looking at him and he pushes Zayn out of his mind.
“What? Have I dribbled on my chin or something?”
Harry smiles. “I’m just wondering if this is something you usually do. Bring home strange boys and sit with them without saying a word.”
Louis makes a face. “It’s not.” He feels bad now. “Sorry. To be fair, though, you invited yourself over.”
“I know.” He’s smiling even wider now and Louis almost wants to turn away. “And don’t be sorry. It’s nice, actually. You were right. It’s cold outside.”
“Yeah,” he says absently. “It is.”
He’s about to say something else, something about how Harry should leave and get some sleep. But then Harry is kissing him, pressing but somewhat hesitant like he’s seeking permission. And Louis probably shouldn’t, because heading to the toilet the first time had been a bad idea and heading there tonight certainly even more so.
But he spreads his legs instinctively and that’s all the permission Harry needs before he’s straddling Louis and tracing a path from his lips to his neck with little open-mouthed kisses. Louis thinks he should probably be high for this, but Harry is helping enough by expertly undoing his trousers and curling long fingers around his cock.
They’re already too far gone and yet Louis still feels the nagging need to protest. But his breath stutters instead, and Harry laughs.
***
The next morning, Louis has new bruises on his neck and a new number in his mobile. He wants to ignore both, but he heads to work feeling a little lighter than usual. And when Zayn calls him during his lunch break, he lets it run to voicemail.
***
( Part Two)