Fic: One of the Beautiful People | Part Two
continuation from part one
They've been 'getting ready' for dinner with Liam for about an hour now, and yet somehow, Louis is still in nothing but his bright red pants that cling to his arse, prancing around Zayn and Niall's flat unabashedly.
"Louis!" Zayn groans from the bathroom where he can probably hear Louis belting out a Madonna tune into the full-length mirror of Zayn's bedroom in perfect pitch. "Do you even have a shirt on? Lou. Just put on a fucking shirt and any pair of trousers. It's not even a date for you."
Zayn's been ready for a while now. He's in a pair of black trousers, a white undershirt and an ironed plaid button-up that's left undone. The sleeves are rolled up to give him more of a casual look, and he has two necklaces dangling over the collar of his shirt, chest tattoos peeking out from beneath. His hair is standing high with gel and his lashes look like they've been coated with three layers of mascara.
"I know that," Louis says bitingly, hip cocked in front of the mirror, mostly nude and fixing his hair. "But you never know with these things. I could meet the shag of my life and look like too much of a mess to pull him. I can't chance it."
Zayn rolls his eyes. "You meet the shag of your life twice a week."
"Yes, but. That's proof that there's always room for something better. Life surprises you."
Zayn comes out of the bathroom and Louis catches sight of him in the mirror raiding his closet, producing a pair of clean sneakers. He slips into them and stands up straight, looking at his reflection next to Louis' from afar. "What do you think?"
"You're fit," Louis says. "You could go wearing sweatpants and Uggs and he'd still want to shag you."
"Not too late, could change into my yoga kit," Zayn quips, distracted as he looks down at his mobile, tapping away with his thumbs.
"Babe," Louis says thoughtfully, going through the few changes of clothes that he brought over with him. "Purple trousers and white t-shirt with braces or -- white trousers and baby blue shirt?"
Zayn doesn't look up from his phone. "Purple trousers and white shirt, no braces."
Louis gasps and twists himself to gape at Zayn, his suggestion sounding blasphemous to Louis' ears. "That's like saying you want a cheeseburger without the cheese. Or a cherry cola without the cherry."
"Why do you ask my advice when you've made up your mind?"
"Have not," Louis says defensively, throwing the braces aside before putting his kit on without them. "See? I can be cooperative."
"Niall, he's got his clothes on!" Zayn calls out, and Niall comes padding in, dressed in khakis and a graphic tank, blonde wisps of his hair coming through his snapback.
"Oof, Louis -- record time. Only took you what, an hour?"
"Don't get too excited, I've got to fix my hair still."
"It looks fine," they both say in unison, seemingly exasperated as they watch Louis saunter off into the loo.
"I'll only be a minute," Louis calls back, and he can hear Zayn plan to go for a cigarette and Niall decide on a wank, knowing that a minute really means fifteen.
Miraculously, after Louis decides to change his shoes twice -- one time doubling back to the flat after they'd left because he decided the light in the elevator gave him a different perspective on his espadrilles -- and they drive to pick up Niall's girlfriend Jamie on the way, they only make it to the restaurant twenty minutes late.
Liam is sat by himself at a large table for six, scrolling through his mobile phone, and Zayn furrows his brows apologetically as he leads the way to him.
"I'm so sorry, babe," Zayn says, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to Liam's lips before settling into the seat next to him. "Louis decided to have a bit of a fashion show before we came here."
"Three outfits hardly classifies as a fashion show. I'd need at least five different looks for that," Louis says, settling down across from them, and Zayn rolls his eyes, opting to ignore him as he glances over at Liam.
Zayn furrows his brows. "Where's--?"
"Just in the bathroom, he'll be back any minute," Liam responds. "I've ordered a few starters for us, hope no one minds."
"I'll get a few more just in case," Niall says readily, having already scanned the entire menu in the time it took Jamie to slip her coat off, his arm up in the air in an attempt to flag down a waiter.
"No need, really--" Liam tries to interject. "I ordered three different kinds."
"Aw, that's sweet, mate," Niall says with a smile, as if Liam was a naive but pleasant child who will one day learn that three starters is only enough for one person.
When Liam's friend comes back from the bathroom, he has his head ducked down and he's ruffling his curly head of hair, pulling it to one side, and Louis' heart jumps into his throat. Those curls are utterly unmistakable, but Louis' first though is that they absolutely cannot belong to Harry. Harry cannot be Liam's friend.
Shit. Shit, shit, fuck, shit.
Louis picks up his menu quickly and distracts himself with it, as if he'd be able to make Harry disappear through the sheer force of will and desperation.
No such luck, apparently, because everyone stops doing what they're doing and the table settles into an eerie silence, meaning Louis is forced to glance up from his menu to assess the situation.
Harry is still standing, looking straight at Louis with intently furrowed brows and tightly pursed lips. There's four sets of eyes that are traveling back and forth between the two of them, mystified by the tension that you could now effectively cut with a knife.
"Haz," Liam says, and his voice is quiet, barely audible. "Is -- is everything alright?"
"Yeah," Harry says, breaking his stare to look over at his friend, squeezing his shoulder. "Yeah, good."
Except it's not good. Nothing is good, because Liam is sitting next to Zayn and Niall next to Jamie and the only empty seat is right beside Louis', of course it is. Harry shuffles over and sits down without looking over at Louis, grabbing a napkin and unfolding it over his lap.
Louis wants to be annoyed with Harry for being so unbearably posh when Louis knows what Harry's capable of behind closed doors, but he thinks it would be an unfounded outburst of emotion and that his annoyance is misguided. Mostly, he thinks, he wants to poke himself in the eye for choosing the one bloke that would get him into this situation.
"Harry," Liam says, and Harry glances up with a nod, as though he was dazed. "You've met Zayn and Niall, but I don't think you've met--"
"Jamie," Niall offers, nodding towards his girlfriend, and then Louis bites his tongue and holds his breath.
"And this is Louis, Zayn's mate," Liam says all too gracefully, making Louis force a smile.
"Zayn's mate is fairly low on my list of preferred descriptors, but it'll have to do," he says, going for light and joking.
"I'm sure there's a lot more that could be said about you," Harry says cryptically to anyone who isn't Louis. Louis can feel the bite behind the words and his smile grows sweeter and faker in response, disguising his desire to land a closed fist between Harry's legs just to watch Harry double over himself and face plant into his cutlery.
Alas, Louis is civilized and composed, so he runs his fingers through his fringe and looks up at the rest of the table, eyes shining brilliantly. "Ready to order, are we?"
Dinner goes on mostly without incident, Zayn and Harry finding some common ground around football to engage in, Niall and Liam debating the merits of feeding dogs human food versus pebbles which Niall somehow knows are 'absolutely disgusting, just rank'. Louis and Jamie both force conversation, switching from topic to topic to avoid any awkward silences, each of them hurrying to fill in the blanks.
"Li," Harry says as soon as their emptied plates are pulled away, and Louis' heart inexplicably speeds up at the sound of the one syllable, as if Harry was going to tell Liam in front of everyone that Louis had abandoned him after a one night stand. "I've got to run. I'm sorry. I've just been feeling a bit poorly."
"Oh." Liam's face crumples, as if Harry had said that he was terminally ill, and Louis wonders if it gets tiring being so empathetic all the time. "Do you need me to bring something home? Panadol or something?"
Great, Louis thinks. Not only are they mates, but they live together. This is going to end so well for Louis.
"Not at all," Harry says with a dismissive shake of his head. "I just need a good night's sleep, I think."
"All right, well. I won't stay out long," Liam says, but Zayn shoots him a brief wounded look at that, and Liam catches it before Zayn fixes his features back into a casual neutrality. "I mean..."
"Li, please," Harry interjects. "Don't worry about it. Have a good time. I'll be fine, I'm going to go back to the flat and have a cuppa and watch some shit telly. Maybe I'll call Aiden over to join."
"Sounds like a bit of mayhem," Louis says before he can stop himself, and then his throat constricts to hold him back from voicing any other ridiculous sentences, because god, he must sound like a wanker.
"Not all of us can lead glamourous, sparkling lives," Harry says calmly, pushing up from his seat to grab his coat, slipping it on. "Some of us like to retain a bit of normalcy. Maintain human connections. Just standard things."
Zayn furrows his eyebrows at Louis, clearly trying to piece things together, but Louis knows Zayn well enough to know that he's clueless as ever.
"Good luck with that, mate," Louis says, and it sounds cold even to his own ears. He considers leaving it at that, but his heart thumps against his chest and he decides to soften the blow by meeting Harry's eyes and adding, "Feel better, yeah?"
"Yeah," Harry breathes out, looking a cross between tired and confused. He lingers for a moment as he stuffs his hands into his coat pockets, nodding at the rest of the table.
Louis blinks and then Harry's turning to make his way out, his shoulders hunched as he slips through the restaurant and disappears through the doors.
--
After Harry leaves the dinner table, they're ready to settle the bill, and Louis becomes painfully aware that he's the odd one out.
Louis can tell by the way Zayn goes for his wallet while Liam squeezes Zayn's thigh that Zayn is going to pay for Liam. Niall is already counting notes for him and Jamie and, well, Harry left his share of the bill near his plate with a bit leftover for tip.
They all hesitate for a moment, looking at Louis cautiously as if they're afraid he'll suddenly realize he's the only one who's devastatingly single and he'll fall apart at the seams, but Louis is dropping his credit card on the table before any of them can make the situation more pitiful by speaking.
"As Beyoncé would say," Louis pipes up breezily, lifting his fingers up in the air to grab the attention of the waiter. "All my ladies making money throw your hands up at me."
Zayn rolls his eyes and the rest of them let out small chuckles as they settle their share of the bills with less visible guilt than before.
The wind is crisp when they start the walk to Zayn and Niall's flat. Louis feels as though the rest of the group had surreptitiously met and made a collective decision to take pity on him, because Zayn links his arm with Louis' instead of Liam's and the two of them huddle together for warmth while the others follow behind.
Louis wants to roll his eyes, wants to shove Zayn at Liam and tell them he's not the fifth wheel and refuses to be treated as such, but it actually feels quite nice to have the extra body heat by his side so he saves his protests for later. He thinks briefly that if Harry had been a bit less of a dramatic teenager about the whole thing, feigning illness like they were in some daytime drama, then the group would still be even-numbered and there would be enough of them to share warmth equally.
Zayn nudges Louis, his quiet voice meant only for him. "Thanks for being civil, yeah?"
"My pleasure," Louis says. "I took some tranquilizers beforehand to keep me zen."
Zayn feigns shock. "But Saturday's your standard night to pull! Won't the tranquilizer render Tommo Jr. useless?"
"That's sweet, but you should know by now that nothing can keep the Tommo down when it's his time to rise up and greet the nation."
"That's... a disturbing image," Zayn says and Louis smirks to himself. "But I appreciate you not asking Liam his prick size, so I'll entertain it. Anyway, I wanted to ask -- did you find something weird about Liam's friend tonight?"
Louis' heart speeds up a notch, but he answers with a deliberate ease. "Not really? I guess you could tell he was ill from the start. Pale and a bit strange altogether."
"Yeah," Zayn agrees. "I guess you're right."
Zayn drops the subject and Louis is relieved; he promises whatever deity that's on his side that he will donate some of his tips from later tonight to charity.
Louis's even more relieved that when they reach the flat, they don't waste any precious time before they're breaking out the bottles of rum and vodka. Louis mixes everyone a few drinks before they settle together in front of the telly to watch a round of X Factor.
"Did you know," Louis says grandly from where he's sat on the ground, eyes lighting up as he regards Zayn and Liam who are snuggled together on the couch. "That our Zayner here wanted to audition for the X Factor once upon a time. Even made it as far as the parking lot."
"Did you really?" Liam says as he looks at Zayn. Louis notes that Liam's curiosity is laced with the kind of awe that comes with dating someone new; everything you discover about them is precious and worthy of adoration in a way that makes bile crawl up Louis' throat. He takes a swig of his drink to swallow it down.
"I don't quite think it's story time," Zayn tells Louis pointedly. "I think the potential for story time ended after your second serving of vodka tonic, actually."
"I'm hardly pissed, if that's what you're saying," Louis says, but his cheeks are red and his eyes are shining and he's definitely on his way to being smashed. "Anyways! This was back when we lived in Bradford, just two young lads with a whole world left to discover. Zayn decides he wants to go audition for the X Factor and I, being the fantastic mate that I am, agree to go along for an audition as well. It's worth noting that I sing as well as I cook, which is to say, not very well at all. Like, I can make a pasta dish or a pie, but it's nothing consistent or mind-blowing--"
"Tangent," Niall calls out from where he's seated on the armchair, Jamie somehow squeezed against him in the tight space. "But it's true, your cooking is tragic, mate."
"I was saying," Louis continues sharply, ignoring him. "I drove us up from Bradford for hours and hours just to go to this audition and when we get there, what does Zayn do?"
"Babe..." Liam says to Zayn sweetly and preemptively, as if he's aware of the ego boost Zayn's going to need once the ending to the story proves to be as pathetic as the buildup promises.
Louis continues dramatically. "He disappears to buy a pack of fags and doesn't come back! I'm sat there texting him furiously, telling him we're going to miss our slot to audition, and he doesn't reply. Turns out he went back to the car and sulked for an hour without even a word about it."
Niall snorts, remembering. "He didn't even message you, did he? You just went back to the car and found him sleeping in the backseat."
"That's right!" Louis exclaims, remembering more clearly now; it's been a while since he had someone new to share this story with. He throws a pillow at Zayn, his annoyance from that fateful day returning. "You were such a wanker. To top it off you didn't even have your driver's license and I had to drive us both ways for nothing."
Liam has a hand squeezing the back of Zayn's neck and he presses a kiss to the side of his head. Zayn shrugs and doesn't say anything to defend himself, just meets Louis' eyes sheepishly, like he was still a bit regretful about it.
"There's always next year," Zayn says, and Niall chimes in with "here, here!" while lifting his bottle of beer into the air.
There's a stretch of relative quiet after that as they all watch a small brunette sing her heart out into a microphone on the telly. Louis bites his lip and lets his eyes fall shut, assaulted with a flood of memories. He thinks of the drive back to Bradford after Zayn had sabotaged his chance to audition. It was a quiet drive, more quiet than they'd ever been in the company of each other.
Louis remembers how they ended up parked at the side of an abandoned road within an hour, Louis with his back to the door and his trousers bunched around his knees. Zayn with his head dipping up and down between Louis' legs, the obscene sound of his slick, hot mouth hollowed out around Louis' cock and Louis' shallow breaths filling the air.
At first Louis had thought the impromptu blowjob was just Zayn's way of apologizing for being a twat, but when Zayn had dug his fingernails desperately into Louis' thighs and keened around him sadly, it made Louis realize with a pain in his chest that Zayn wasn't saying sorry. Instead, Zayn was stifling himself, stifling his anger for fucking the audition up, for being self-destructive, for not being able to go after something he so desperately wanted.
It sends a shiver down Louis' spine to remember how he came down Zayn's throat and kissed him fervently through the aftertaste until he'd calmed down, Louis thumbing away the silent tears from the lines of Zayn's jaw.
Louis lets his eyes open now and they fall on Liam and Zayn. They're kissing, not with any fervency or intent or desperation, but slow and gentle, like they're confident that their time together is anything but fleeting.
Louis watches in a daze for just a moment longer before snapping out of it and letting free a shuddery breath. With his palms to the floor, he forces himself to push up to his feet.
"All right, lads," he announces, voice steadier than he thought it could be. "It's time for me to leave you. I've got some dancing shoes and a cage with my name on it for the night."
"I'll walk you out," Zayn says unexpectedly, easing himself from Liam's side. He stretches his arms out after being curled up on the couch for so long. "I need a smoke anyway. I'll be back in a minute, yeah?"
Louis leads the way outside. Zayn rests against the building and Louis settles in next to him, breathing in Zayn's first exhale of smoke, used to it by now.
"You were a bit lost in thought back there," Zayn notes.
"Yeah, well. I was utterly bored with the company so I decided to fantasize about all the beautiful boys I'd be pulling tonight."
Zayn rolls his eyes. "You enjoyed yourself. I could tell. You had a good time even if you won't admit."
"I'm not a complete prick, you know. I do like happiness."
Zayn smirks, ashing his cigarette once before pulling Louis against his side by the shoulders. He kisses Louis' temple. "You deserve happiness."
"Ugh. Don't be sappy. It's weird," Louis grumbles, but he instinctively leans in closer, his voice gone thin and unconvincing.
Zayn takes a long drag from his cigarette, speaking thickly through the smoke. "Be safe tonight, yeah?"
"Got a whole row of condoms in my pocket, don't worry yourself."
"That's not what I meant, Lou."
"I know," Louis says, pulling away from Zayn's grip reluctantly and fixing his hair, exhaling deeply. Zayn takes another pull of his cigarette, watching Louis closely in a way that's unnerving, but Louis just sweeps his fringe to the side and says, "How do I look?"
"Great, babe. Brilliant," Zayn says.
"Figured as much," Louis says with a smirk, and rocks in closer to Zayn's body. He can smell Liam on him, and a bittersweet smile finds his lips as he presses a kiss to Zayn's jawline instead of his mouth. "Have a good night, yeah?"
Zayn nods, saying nothing as Louis takes two steps back and turns to walk away, but Louis feels a pair of eyes boring into him until he rounds the corner and puts his arm out for a taxi.
The rest of the night passes in a haze. Louis changes into a pair of silver shorts in his dressing room and the material presses graceless red indents into his belly where the waistband digs into him. He forgoes the usual spread of glitter for a more subdued look, tracing his eyes with a smoky black liner to make the blue of his irises stand out and hide their red-rimmed exhaustion.
In his cage, Louis closes his eyes and moves his hips to the music but he can't seem to lose himself in the beat. His range of go-to smiles falter and flicker and he forces them to be bigger and brighter, unrelenting.
He makes a good amount of tips and wonders if it's because people on the dance floor are too drunk to notice the difference between good entertainment and the warm, fatigued and half-naked body that is Louis tonight.
Louis doesn't accept the drink that's offered to him by a bald bloke when he comes down from his cage. He changes in the backroom and slips out of the club into the crisp night air, appreciating the way it slaps against his cheeks to wake him up.
When he makes his way back to the warmth of his quiet flat, the sobering efforts of the cold air start to dissipate from his chilled limbs and he becomes bone-weary once again. He slips into a pair of sweatpants and a loose t-shirt that doesn't belong to him and within minutes, he falls asleep on the couch with a cold mug of tea by his side.
*~*~*
Louis is avoiding green-eyed, curly-haired, and dimple-cheeked Harry Styles at all costs while wondering why in the world he'd agreed to this.
He figures it's because he still owes Zayn after he: a) convinced Zayn to fuck him in the loo of a club while Zayn was trying to be a faithful something to Liam, and b) was initially a complete prick to Liam and nearly sabotaged their entire relationship for no certifiable reason.
Louis cringes internally at that word relationship. He still thinks Zayn is being a bit naive, jumping into something like that at the reckless age of twenty with a posh and proper boy like Liam, but Louis's trying to remind himself that Zayn is his own person and that Louis has some duties as Zayn's best mate, which currently include being supportive and not sucking his cock.
Ultimately, Louis' not sure why he said yes to coming to a party at Liam's flat where Harry lives, but he's pretty sure he's just trying to prove he can be a decent human being.
(It's worth noting, maybe, that Louis had resisted at first.
"I don't think that's a very good idea," he'd said to Zayn, and Zayn had nodded knowingly.
"Thought as much," Zayn had said, his voice already gone icy, prompting Louis to sigh. Louis hadn't known a polite way to say, I fucked Liam's flatmate and left right after without so much as pretending to be interested in seeing him again.
"Zayn," he'd said instead. "I just think it's okay for you to go and party with him without me, is all."
"He invited you, you wanker. Can't you sacrifice one Friday night? You might even meet someone half-decent."
Louis'd rolled his eyes and agreed in a huff because Zayn was turning into his irrational touchy self, and Louis hadn't had it in him to defuse that kind of expert level of broodiness.)
Somewhere around his fifth drink, though, Louis becomes bored and wonders why Harry is ignoring him. Really, he'd expected Harry to be his regular glare-y teenaged self, shooting Louis cryptic yet utterly angsty looks of longing, but instead, it looks like Harry is successfully enjoying himself.
He seems to know a lot of the people there, mutual friends of him and Liam's, and hops between conversations effortlessly, loved up by the lads and ladies alike.
It all makes Louis want to gag -- Harry's dimpled cheek when he smiles with deliberate charm, the way Harry's green eyes become hazier by the drink, and the way Harry's deep and lazy voice carries across the room every once in awhile, unmistakable and grating.
Possibly, though, what makes Louis want to gag the most is the fact that he may have mixed his liquors a tad too much and should mostly slow down before he's ill. He steps out onto the balcony for some air and hangs over the railing, his red cup of vodka cranberry nestled between his fingers delicately as he scans the scene below, trying to keep the distant figures from blurring into each other.
He smells Zayn before he sees him. The sliding door drags shut behind him and the scent of Zayn's aftershave fills his nostrils. A beat later, they're elbow-to-elbow hanging over the railing, and there's a thick cloud of smoke coming from Zayn's lips and curling around him like a grey cloak.
"Have you come to check up on me?" Louis asks, holding his fingers out for Zayn's cigarette. He doesn't smoke often, but it becomes tempting when he's buzzed, the way Zayn sucks on the filter looking so utterly convincing that Louis feels the need to do the same.
Zayn shrugs, taking another pull before passing the cigarette over. Zayn tilts his head away to blow out the smoke in a steady stream. Louis takes a drag and holds the smoke in, handing it back wordlessly.
"Are you thinking to leave soon?" Zayn asks.
Louis breathes out the smoke. "I've got my eye on one or two lads," he lies. "Might be worth sticking around for."
"Just don't shag them in Liam's room," Zayn says, voice muffled around the butt of his cigarette. "Better yet, take them back to yours. Your bed could use some action."
"Don't be silly, babe, you know my rule. My flat is a 100% shag-free zone."
Zayn scoffs. "I've been in that bed with you for less-than-holy reasons too many times to believe that."
"Yeah, well. Best mate privileges. Consider yourself the chosen one."
"Flattered, really."
Louis smirks, turning around to press his back to the railing, his hands reaching behind him to curl around it on each of his sides. He listens to the sounds of Zayn smoking his cigarette to the filter before rubbing the cherry out against the metal, throwing the butt to the ground below.
They both look over as the sliding door is pulled open, and then there he is, curls and green eyes and constant charm, even when he's not smiling, even when a frown shifts his features out of place.
"Sorry," Harry says. "Didn't think I'd be interrupting. Just needed a breath."
"You haven't interrupted. Was just out here for a smoke," Zayn says, pushing himself off the railing.
Louis pulls his weight off the metal as well, making his way around Harry to go back inside, but Harry's fingers grab at his wrist and tug him back.
"I wanted to talk to you, actually," Harry says, and Louis' heart jumps to his throat but he nods, casual as ever.
Zayn surveys them, eyes traveling back and forth before giving Louis a brief, meaningful look, and Louis knows what he's saying -- he's reminding him that Harry's Liam's best mate, that Harry is off-limits, that Harry is sacred and not to be touched. Louis wants to laugh or possibly cry at the irony of the entire situation.
"I'll see you in a bit, yeah?" Zayn tells Louis, and Louis nods and watches as Zayn disappears inside, the raucous sounds of the party silenced once he pulls the sliding door shut.
Harry sits down on the edge of a plastic chair, and for the first time that night, Louis gets a proper look at him. For some reason, he's overdressed -- a white blouse unbuttoned messily to the middle of his chest and tucked into a pair of black trousers.
Harry looks like maybe he's been to a wedding or maybe he's much older than he says he is, holding down an office job and coming in and out of conference calls throughout the day. Louis smiles to himself at the thought.
"Why are you so dressed up?" he asks, nudging his foot against Harry's to get his attention.
Harry huffs out a humourless laugh, glancing down at his shiny black shoes. "My mum had a cocktail party."
"Cocktail party. That must be nice."
Louis can feel the alcohol coursing through him steadily now, and even through his blurred vision, he can tell with a sharp certainty that Harry looks gorgeous like this, his eyes tired, contradicting the vibrant city lights that wash over his face. His lips are red with wine, and there are subtle spreads of acne spotting his forehead and chin that give away his age.
Louis sits down on the edge of the table that faces Harry's chair, his legs fitting between the gap of Harry's knees. Louis runs his hands up Harry's thighs and Harry meets his eyes.
"You're still angry," Louis notes quietly, looking down at Harry's lips.
"That you shagged me and left without even pretending to be interested...? A bit bothered by it, yeah."
Louis takes his own lip between his teeth, flicking his eyes up to meet Harry's. "You're so young, Harry. Are you used to everyone wanting you all the time?"
Harry shakes his head and looks away, and Louis can tell he hit a nerve by the way Harry's lips become pursed into a tight line and he doesn't respond. Louis watches the side of his face intently. His voice is quiet when he says, "Look at me," and Harry does, turning back to meet Louis' eyes like he has no other choice.
"You'll grow up and realize that 'pretending to be interested' is a waste of your time," Louis says. "And it'll stop hurting so much to leave things behind."
Harry shakes his head, casting his eyes downward. "I liked you," he says, as if it were some grand reveal.
Louis smiles sadly, hearing the sincerity in Harry's voice. "I know you did. I reckon you still do."
Harry lets his eyes fall shut and Louis takes pity on him, leaning in and kissing his head through the curls. "You're pissed and upset. You should probably have a glass of water and shake it off."
"I don't want a bloody glass of water," Harry says. He lifts his eyes and meets Louis', silent for a long time before speaking, his voice unsteady with what seems like a bad combination of booze and vulnerability. "Do you not like me, then? Am I -- am I not your type or something?"
Louis laughs softly. "It's not about that, Harry. I wouldn't have shagged you if I wasn't at least interested."
"Then what?" Harry asks desperately. He slides his hand up the inside of Louis' thigh, inching dangerously close to his crotch. "What is it?"
Louis bites his lip, and apparently Harry takes that as encouragement, because a moment later he's rubbing Louis through his trousers. Harry rests his forehead against Louis' and both their eyes fall shut. Louis can smell the wine on Harry's breath. He lets out a small moan of appreciation at the feel of Harry's hand on him, cock responding to his advances despite himself.
"I don't think that's a good idea," Louis forces himself to say, and to his surprise, Harry actually listens to him, slowing his hand down. He rubs the line of Louis's cock but with less purpose, his palm just a light pressure as it moves up and down.
Louis moves his hands to the sides of Harry's neck and kisses his lips lightly before he scans his eyes. "You didn't tell Liam?"
"No," Harry confirms. "He'd just take it out on Zayn and I don't want to get between them."
"You'll be probably be seeing a lot more of me," Louis says. "Zayn's hellbent on having me befriend Liam and I'm guessing it's a bit of a package deal with you lot."
Harry's hand has stopped rubbing him by now, fingers curled uselessly around Louis' crotch but not moving. "Go out with me, Lou."
Louis laughs humourlessly. "You're pissed, love."
"Go out with me. When I'm sober. When you're sober. What will it hurt?"
"I don't -- I don't do that, I'm sorry."
The sliding door starts to drag open and thankfully, despite how slow his reflexes can be, Harry pulls off of Louis just in time that when Liam slips out onto the balcony, Harry and Louis don't look to be in too much of an incriminating situation.
"Everything all right, lads?" Liam asks.
Louis smiles. "Good, yeah. I was just checking up on young Harold here. He seems to be doing okay. Bit pissed, though."
Liam stands beside Harry's chair and ruffles his hair fondly. "You all right, Haz? Drank too much?"
"I'm fine," Harry says dismissively, pushing up to his feet. "Just had to get a bit of fresh air. I think I'll go to bed, though. Knackered."
"I'll grab you a glass of water," Louis offers, pushing to his feet and pressing a steadying hand to Harry's hip.
"I'm fine, really--" Harry insists, but Liam stops him.
"Don't be daft, water will keep you from waking up a mess," Liam says. "Are you sure you want to grab it, Louis? I could just get it for him myself."
"Nonsense. You're the host of this party, don't worry about it. Go entertain your guests!"
Harry leads the way inside before disappearing into the hallway and presumably to his room, the one he'd fucked Louis in just a few weeks before. Louis swallows hard at the memory. Liam thanks Louis again and Louis snaps out of his thoughts, forcing a smile and assuring him it's no trouble.
Louis fetches a glass of ice water and makes his way into the hallway; he doesn't remember much about it except that he'd been kissing Harry desperately the last time he made his way through here. He finds Liam's room first and then what looks like a spare, and it makes him wonder, briefly, how much the two of them pay to share a spacious flat like this in the good part of town. He steps into the darkness of the room at the end of the hall, immediately recognizing it as Harry's.
Harry is sitting up on the headboard with the blankets up to his waist, his torso bare save for the necklaces dangling down his chest, the pendants catching enough light from his window to sparkle in the dark. His head is tilted back and his gaze is on the ceiling, and Louis can't help but admire the long column of his throat stretched before him.
"Deja vu," Harry says.
Louis laughs under his breath. "I didn't get a good look last time. I'm fairly certain we stumbled right into your bed -- missed the grand tour entirely."
"Not much to see," Harry adds. "Feel free to have a look."
Louis shuts the door behind him and goes over to the bed, setting down the glass of water on Harry's nightstand. He surveys the floor and finds that Harry had discarded everything he was wearing, from his white blouse to his trousers and pants, leaving him naked beneath his blanket.
Louis bites his lip. He crawls into the bed, pulling the covers off Harry's waist, and Harry's eyes move to watch him. Louis holds Harry's gaze as he spits into the palm of his hand, can see the way Harry's eyes go dark at the sight. He reaches between them, curling his fingers around Harry's half-hard cock and strokes him slowly, feeling him grow in his hand with unbelievable ease.
He watches Harry's reactions. Harry's gaze is thick with lust and something else, something indiscernible, and his lips are parted soundlessly. Louis eases himself down, lets his eyes fall shut, taking Harry into his mouth. He moans appreciatively at the salty taste of Harry's precome mixed in with his own spit, his tongue flattening against the underside.
He hallows his cheeks and sucks in earnest as he lowers his lips carefully to take more of him in. He feels Harry's fingers curl in his hair, Harry's back bowing in pleasure. He can feel the length of Harry's cock force itself further down his throat when Harry's hips twitch off the bed, and it chokes him for just a moment.
He pulls off with an obscene noise, replacing his lips with his hand, jerking Harry firmly as he presses a kiss to his slit. The room fills with the wet sound of Louis' hand moving on Harry's cock, Harry's choked noises that he tries to hold back, Louis' warm, shallow breaths as his own cock stiffens in interest within the restraints of his trousers.
He takes Harry back into his throat, fondling his balls in his sweat-slick palm until Harry's at the edge of orgasm, Louis moaning around him as though it was his own release that was nearing.
Harry pulls at Louis' shoulders in warning, whining his name repeatedly, but Louis only moans around him in encouragement. Harry keens desperately and arches his hips off the bed, coming deeply into Louis' throat as his knuckles go white around his shoulders. Louis swallows around him thoroughly and pulls off inch by inch. He lifts his hand to Harry's cock, milking him through it gently, then presses a soft kiss to the underside and breaks away.
"That should help put you to sleep," Louis says, leaning over Harry's body to press a kiss to his lips.
"Do you want me to--?" Harry asks, fingers curling into Louis' waistband.
"That's all right, love. I'll live."
Harry looks into his eyes for a moment before nudging his nose against his, his eyes falling shut. "Is this when you leave again?"
"Afraid so," Louis says quietly, surveying Harry's face, but he doesn't move off him. "Why did you want me to go out with you?"
Harry shrugs. His eyes remain shut as he tilts his head back against the headboard, Louis watching the pink of his cheeks closely. "Do I need a reason? Just liked you."
"Well, there must have been something that made you like me." Louis noses at his jawline, kissing his throat. "There must have been something that had you upset when I'd left."
"You just seemed... alive," Harry says sheepishly, as though he knows just how ridiculous his admission sounds. He opens his eyes and meets Louis', smiling small now, and it must be contagious because Louis mirrors it without thought. "Your eyes lit up when you spoke and you were carefree and reckless in a way that I didn't even have to know you to figure out. I could just feel it, like a vibe. You were literally sparkling, for God's sake."
Louis smirks in amusement, pecking Harry's lips. He sits back on his legs and picks up Harry's phone from his nightstand, sliding his thumb across the bottom to unlock it. "What's your password?"
"3992," Harry supplies, watching him curiously. Louis puts in his number and saves it, setting the phone aside.
"You said you wanted to see me dance," Louis says simply. "Message me tomorrow if you still want to and I'll tell you where I am."
Louis' own phone buzzes and he stands on his knees so he can pull it out of his back pocket. He bites his lip as he responds to a message. "I'd better go before Zayn finds out I've been sucking your cock. He'll have me murdered."
Harry smirks lazily. "Will you promise to reply to my message tomorrow?"
"I said I would," Louis says. "But don't get too excited. It's just to see me dance."
"Sure," Harry says and he sounds utterly disbelieving, his tone hopeful enough that Louis wonders if he'd made a huge mistake, but before he can reiterate the fact that it's not a date, Harry is sitting up with handfuls of Louis' hips, kissing him open-mouthed and full of heat and Louis loses himself in it until his phone buzzes again and he has to break away with a moan.
"Night, love," Louis murmurs into Harry's lips, and it's too much like the last time they'd parted, but when Louis shuts the door behind him this time, he knows from the pounding of his heart that he's going to see Harry again.
part three
They've been 'getting ready' for dinner with Liam for about an hour now, and yet somehow, Louis is still in nothing but his bright red pants that cling to his arse, prancing around Zayn and Niall's flat unabashedly.
"Louis!" Zayn groans from the bathroom where he can probably hear Louis belting out a Madonna tune into the full-length mirror of Zayn's bedroom in perfect pitch. "Do you even have a shirt on? Lou. Just put on a fucking shirt and any pair of trousers. It's not even a date for you."
Zayn's been ready for a while now. He's in a pair of black trousers, a white undershirt and an ironed plaid button-up that's left undone. The sleeves are rolled up to give him more of a casual look, and he has two necklaces dangling over the collar of his shirt, chest tattoos peeking out from beneath. His hair is standing high with gel and his lashes look like they've been coated with three layers of mascara.
"I know that," Louis says bitingly, hip cocked in front of the mirror, mostly nude and fixing his hair. "But you never know with these things. I could meet the shag of my life and look like too much of a mess to pull him. I can't chance it."
Zayn rolls his eyes. "You meet the shag of your life twice a week."
"Yes, but. That's proof that there's always room for something better. Life surprises you."
Zayn comes out of the bathroom and Louis catches sight of him in the mirror raiding his closet, producing a pair of clean sneakers. He slips into them and stands up straight, looking at his reflection next to Louis' from afar. "What do you think?"
"You're fit," Louis says. "You could go wearing sweatpants and Uggs and he'd still want to shag you."
"Not too late, could change into my yoga kit," Zayn quips, distracted as he looks down at his mobile, tapping away with his thumbs.
"Babe," Louis says thoughtfully, going through the few changes of clothes that he brought over with him. "Purple trousers and white t-shirt with braces or -- white trousers and baby blue shirt?"
Zayn doesn't look up from his phone. "Purple trousers and white shirt, no braces."
Louis gasps and twists himself to gape at Zayn, his suggestion sounding blasphemous to Louis' ears. "That's like saying you want a cheeseburger without the cheese. Or a cherry cola without the cherry."
"Why do you ask my advice when you've made up your mind?"
"Have not," Louis says defensively, throwing the braces aside before putting his kit on without them. "See? I can be cooperative."
"Niall, he's got his clothes on!" Zayn calls out, and Niall comes padding in, dressed in khakis and a graphic tank, blonde wisps of his hair coming through his snapback.
"Oof, Louis -- record time. Only took you what, an hour?"
"Don't get too excited, I've got to fix my hair still."
"It looks fine," they both say in unison, seemingly exasperated as they watch Louis saunter off into the loo.
"I'll only be a minute," Louis calls back, and he can hear Zayn plan to go for a cigarette and Niall decide on a wank, knowing that a minute really means fifteen.
Miraculously, after Louis decides to change his shoes twice -- one time doubling back to the flat after they'd left because he decided the light in the elevator gave him a different perspective on his espadrilles -- and they drive to pick up Niall's girlfriend Jamie on the way, they only make it to the restaurant twenty minutes late.
Liam is sat by himself at a large table for six, scrolling through his mobile phone, and Zayn furrows his brows apologetically as he leads the way to him.
"I'm so sorry, babe," Zayn says, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to Liam's lips before settling into the seat next to him. "Louis decided to have a bit of a fashion show before we came here."
"Three outfits hardly classifies as a fashion show. I'd need at least five different looks for that," Louis says, settling down across from them, and Zayn rolls his eyes, opting to ignore him as he glances over at Liam.
Zayn furrows his brows. "Where's--?"
"Just in the bathroom, he'll be back any minute," Liam responds. "I've ordered a few starters for us, hope no one minds."
"I'll get a few more just in case," Niall says readily, having already scanned the entire menu in the time it took Jamie to slip her coat off, his arm up in the air in an attempt to flag down a waiter.
"No need, really--" Liam tries to interject. "I ordered three different kinds."
"Aw, that's sweet, mate," Niall says with a smile, as if Liam was a naive but pleasant child who will one day learn that three starters is only enough for one person.
When Liam's friend comes back from the bathroom, he has his head ducked down and he's ruffling his curly head of hair, pulling it to one side, and Louis' heart jumps into his throat. Those curls are utterly unmistakable, but Louis' first though is that they absolutely cannot belong to Harry. Harry cannot be Liam's friend.
Shit. Shit, shit, fuck, shit.
Louis picks up his menu quickly and distracts himself with it, as if he'd be able to make Harry disappear through the sheer force of will and desperation.
No such luck, apparently, because everyone stops doing what they're doing and the table settles into an eerie silence, meaning Louis is forced to glance up from his menu to assess the situation.
Harry is still standing, looking straight at Louis with intently furrowed brows and tightly pursed lips. There's four sets of eyes that are traveling back and forth between the two of them, mystified by the tension that you could now effectively cut with a knife.
"Haz," Liam says, and his voice is quiet, barely audible. "Is -- is everything alright?"
"Yeah," Harry says, breaking his stare to look over at his friend, squeezing his shoulder. "Yeah, good."
Except it's not good. Nothing is good, because Liam is sitting next to Zayn and Niall next to Jamie and the only empty seat is right beside Louis', of course it is. Harry shuffles over and sits down without looking over at Louis, grabbing a napkin and unfolding it over his lap.
Louis wants to be annoyed with Harry for being so unbearably posh when Louis knows what Harry's capable of behind closed doors, but he thinks it would be an unfounded outburst of emotion and that his annoyance is misguided. Mostly, he thinks, he wants to poke himself in the eye for choosing the one bloke that would get him into this situation.
"Harry," Liam says, and Harry glances up with a nod, as though he was dazed. "You've met Zayn and Niall, but I don't think you've met--"
"Jamie," Niall offers, nodding towards his girlfriend, and then Louis bites his tongue and holds his breath.
"And this is Louis, Zayn's mate," Liam says all too gracefully, making Louis force a smile.
"Zayn's mate is fairly low on my list of preferred descriptors, but it'll have to do," he says, going for light and joking.
"I'm sure there's a lot more that could be said about you," Harry says cryptically to anyone who isn't Louis. Louis can feel the bite behind the words and his smile grows sweeter and faker in response, disguising his desire to land a closed fist between Harry's legs just to watch Harry double over himself and face plant into his cutlery.
Alas, Louis is civilized and composed, so he runs his fingers through his fringe and looks up at the rest of the table, eyes shining brilliantly. "Ready to order, are we?"
Dinner goes on mostly without incident, Zayn and Harry finding some common ground around football to engage in, Niall and Liam debating the merits of feeding dogs human food versus pebbles which Niall somehow knows are 'absolutely disgusting, just rank'. Louis and Jamie both force conversation, switching from topic to topic to avoid any awkward silences, each of them hurrying to fill in the blanks.
"Li," Harry says as soon as their emptied plates are pulled away, and Louis' heart inexplicably speeds up at the sound of the one syllable, as if Harry was going to tell Liam in front of everyone that Louis had abandoned him after a one night stand. "I've got to run. I'm sorry. I've just been feeling a bit poorly."
"Oh." Liam's face crumples, as if Harry had said that he was terminally ill, and Louis wonders if it gets tiring being so empathetic all the time. "Do you need me to bring something home? Panadol or something?"
Great, Louis thinks. Not only are they mates, but they live together. This is going to end so well for Louis.
"Not at all," Harry says with a dismissive shake of his head. "I just need a good night's sleep, I think."
"All right, well. I won't stay out long," Liam says, but Zayn shoots him a brief wounded look at that, and Liam catches it before Zayn fixes his features back into a casual neutrality. "I mean..."
"Li, please," Harry interjects. "Don't worry about it. Have a good time. I'll be fine, I'm going to go back to the flat and have a cuppa and watch some shit telly. Maybe I'll call Aiden over to join."
"Sounds like a bit of mayhem," Louis says before he can stop himself, and then his throat constricts to hold him back from voicing any other ridiculous sentences, because god, he must sound like a wanker.
"Not all of us can lead glamourous, sparkling lives," Harry says calmly, pushing up from his seat to grab his coat, slipping it on. "Some of us like to retain a bit of normalcy. Maintain human connections. Just standard things."
Zayn furrows his eyebrows at Louis, clearly trying to piece things together, but Louis knows Zayn well enough to know that he's clueless as ever.
"Good luck with that, mate," Louis says, and it sounds cold even to his own ears. He considers leaving it at that, but his heart thumps against his chest and he decides to soften the blow by meeting Harry's eyes and adding, "Feel better, yeah?"
"Yeah," Harry breathes out, looking a cross between tired and confused. He lingers for a moment as he stuffs his hands into his coat pockets, nodding at the rest of the table.
Louis blinks and then Harry's turning to make his way out, his shoulders hunched as he slips through the restaurant and disappears through the doors.
--
After Harry leaves the dinner table, they're ready to settle the bill, and Louis becomes painfully aware that he's the odd one out.
Louis can tell by the way Zayn goes for his wallet while Liam squeezes Zayn's thigh that Zayn is going to pay for Liam. Niall is already counting notes for him and Jamie and, well, Harry left his share of the bill near his plate with a bit leftover for tip.
They all hesitate for a moment, looking at Louis cautiously as if they're afraid he'll suddenly realize he's the only one who's devastatingly single and he'll fall apart at the seams, but Louis is dropping his credit card on the table before any of them can make the situation more pitiful by speaking.
"As Beyoncé would say," Louis pipes up breezily, lifting his fingers up in the air to grab the attention of the waiter. "All my ladies making money throw your hands up at me."
Zayn rolls his eyes and the rest of them let out small chuckles as they settle their share of the bills with less visible guilt than before.
The wind is crisp when they start the walk to Zayn and Niall's flat. Louis feels as though the rest of the group had surreptitiously met and made a collective decision to take pity on him, because Zayn links his arm with Louis' instead of Liam's and the two of them huddle together for warmth while the others follow behind.
Louis wants to roll his eyes, wants to shove Zayn at Liam and tell them he's not the fifth wheel and refuses to be treated as such, but it actually feels quite nice to have the extra body heat by his side so he saves his protests for later. He thinks briefly that if Harry had been a bit less of a dramatic teenager about the whole thing, feigning illness like they were in some daytime drama, then the group would still be even-numbered and there would be enough of them to share warmth equally.
Zayn nudges Louis, his quiet voice meant only for him. "Thanks for being civil, yeah?"
"My pleasure," Louis says. "I took some tranquilizers beforehand to keep me zen."
Zayn feigns shock. "But Saturday's your standard night to pull! Won't the tranquilizer render Tommo Jr. useless?"
"That's sweet, but you should know by now that nothing can keep the Tommo down when it's his time to rise up and greet the nation."
"That's... a disturbing image," Zayn says and Louis smirks to himself. "But I appreciate you not asking Liam his prick size, so I'll entertain it. Anyway, I wanted to ask -- did you find something weird about Liam's friend tonight?"
Louis' heart speeds up a notch, but he answers with a deliberate ease. "Not really? I guess you could tell he was ill from the start. Pale and a bit strange altogether."
"Yeah," Zayn agrees. "I guess you're right."
Zayn drops the subject and Louis is relieved; he promises whatever deity that's on his side that he will donate some of his tips from later tonight to charity.
Louis's even more relieved that when they reach the flat, they don't waste any precious time before they're breaking out the bottles of rum and vodka. Louis mixes everyone a few drinks before they settle together in front of the telly to watch a round of X Factor.
"Did you know," Louis says grandly from where he's sat on the ground, eyes lighting up as he regards Zayn and Liam who are snuggled together on the couch. "That our Zayner here wanted to audition for the X Factor once upon a time. Even made it as far as the parking lot."
"Did you really?" Liam says as he looks at Zayn. Louis notes that Liam's curiosity is laced with the kind of awe that comes with dating someone new; everything you discover about them is precious and worthy of adoration in a way that makes bile crawl up Louis' throat. He takes a swig of his drink to swallow it down.
"I don't quite think it's story time," Zayn tells Louis pointedly. "I think the potential for story time ended after your second serving of vodka tonic, actually."
"I'm hardly pissed, if that's what you're saying," Louis says, but his cheeks are red and his eyes are shining and he's definitely on his way to being smashed. "Anyways! This was back when we lived in Bradford, just two young lads with a whole world left to discover. Zayn decides he wants to go audition for the X Factor and I, being the fantastic mate that I am, agree to go along for an audition as well. It's worth noting that I sing as well as I cook, which is to say, not very well at all. Like, I can make a pasta dish or a pie, but it's nothing consistent or mind-blowing--"
"Tangent," Niall calls out from where he's seated on the armchair, Jamie somehow squeezed against him in the tight space. "But it's true, your cooking is tragic, mate."
"I was saying," Louis continues sharply, ignoring him. "I drove us up from Bradford for hours and hours just to go to this audition and when we get there, what does Zayn do?"
"Babe..." Liam says to Zayn sweetly and preemptively, as if he's aware of the ego boost Zayn's going to need once the ending to the story proves to be as pathetic as the buildup promises.
Louis continues dramatically. "He disappears to buy a pack of fags and doesn't come back! I'm sat there texting him furiously, telling him we're going to miss our slot to audition, and he doesn't reply. Turns out he went back to the car and sulked for an hour without even a word about it."
Niall snorts, remembering. "He didn't even message you, did he? You just went back to the car and found him sleeping in the backseat."
"That's right!" Louis exclaims, remembering more clearly now; it's been a while since he had someone new to share this story with. He throws a pillow at Zayn, his annoyance from that fateful day returning. "You were such a wanker. To top it off you didn't even have your driver's license and I had to drive us both ways for nothing."
Liam has a hand squeezing the back of Zayn's neck and he presses a kiss to the side of his head. Zayn shrugs and doesn't say anything to defend himself, just meets Louis' eyes sheepishly, like he was still a bit regretful about it.
"There's always next year," Zayn says, and Niall chimes in with "here, here!" while lifting his bottle of beer into the air.
There's a stretch of relative quiet after that as they all watch a small brunette sing her heart out into a microphone on the telly. Louis bites his lip and lets his eyes fall shut, assaulted with a flood of memories. He thinks of the drive back to Bradford after Zayn had sabotaged his chance to audition. It was a quiet drive, more quiet than they'd ever been in the company of each other.
Louis remembers how they ended up parked at the side of an abandoned road within an hour, Louis with his back to the door and his trousers bunched around his knees. Zayn with his head dipping up and down between Louis' legs, the obscene sound of his slick, hot mouth hollowed out around Louis' cock and Louis' shallow breaths filling the air.
At first Louis had thought the impromptu blowjob was just Zayn's way of apologizing for being a twat, but when Zayn had dug his fingernails desperately into Louis' thighs and keened around him sadly, it made Louis realize with a pain in his chest that Zayn wasn't saying sorry. Instead, Zayn was stifling himself, stifling his anger for fucking the audition up, for being self-destructive, for not being able to go after something he so desperately wanted.
It sends a shiver down Louis' spine to remember how he came down Zayn's throat and kissed him fervently through the aftertaste until he'd calmed down, Louis thumbing away the silent tears from the lines of Zayn's jaw.
Louis lets his eyes open now and they fall on Liam and Zayn. They're kissing, not with any fervency or intent or desperation, but slow and gentle, like they're confident that their time together is anything but fleeting.
Louis watches in a daze for just a moment longer before snapping out of it and letting free a shuddery breath. With his palms to the floor, he forces himself to push up to his feet.
"All right, lads," he announces, voice steadier than he thought it could be. "It's time for me to leave you. I've got some dancing shoes and a cage with my name on it for the night."
"I'll walk you out," Zayn says unexpectedly, easing himself from Liam's side. He stretches his arms out after being curled up on the couch for so long. "I need a smoke anyway. I'll be back in a minute, yeah?"
Louis leads the way outside. Zayn rests against the building and Louis settles in next to him, breathing in Zayn's first exhale of smoke, used to it by now.
"You were a bit lost in thought back there," Zayn notes.
"Yeah, well. I was utterly bored with the company so I decided to fantasize about all the beautiful boys I'd be pulling tonight."
Zayn rolls his eyes. "You enjoyed yourself. I could tell. You had a good time even if you won't admit."
"I'm not a complete prick, you know. I do like happiness."
Zayn smirks, ashing his cigarette once before pulling Louis against his side by the shoulders. He kisses Louis' temple. "You deserve happiness."
"Ugh. Don't be sappy. It's weird," Louis grumbles, but he instinctively leans in closer, his voice gone thin and unconvincing.
Zayn takes a long drag from his cigarette, speaking thickly through the smoke. "Be safe tonight, yeah?"
"Got a whole row of condoms in my pocket, don't worry yourself."
"That's not what I meant, Lou."
"I know," Louis says, pulling away from Zayn's grip reluctantly and fixing his hair, exhaling deeply. Zayn takes another pull of his cigarette, watching Louis closely in a way that's unnerving, but Louis just sweeps his fringe to the side and says, "How do I look?"
"Great, babe. Brilliant," Zayn says.
"Figured as much," Louis says with a smirk, and rocks in closer to Zayn's body. He can smell Liam on him, and a bittersweet smile finds his lips as he presses a kiss to Zayn's jawline instead of his mouth. "Have a good night, yeah?"
Zayn nods, saying nothing as Louis takes two steps back and turns to walk away, but Louis feels a pair of eyes boring into him until he rounds the corner and puts his arm out for a taxi.
The rest of the night passes in a haze. Louis changes into a pair of silver shorts in his dressing room and the material presses graceless red indents into his belly where the waistband digs into him. He forgoes the usual spread of glitter for a more subdued look, tracing his eyes with a smoky black liner to make the blue of his irises stand out and hide their red-rimmed exhaustion.
In his cage, Louis closes his eyes and moves his hips to the music but he can't seem to lose himself in the beat. His range of go-to smiles falter and flicker and he forces them to be bigger and brighter, unrelenting.
He makes a good amount of tips and wonders if it's because people on the dance floor are too drunk to notice the difference between good entertainment and the warm, fatigued and half-naked body that is Louis tonight.
Louis doesn't accept the drink that's offered to him by a bald bloke when he comes down from his cage. He changes in the backroom and slips out of the club into the crisp night air, appreciating the way it slaps against his cheeks to wake him up.
When he makes his way back to the warmth of his quiet flat, the sobering efforts of the cold air start to dissipate from his chilled limbs and he becomes bone-weary once again. He slips into a pair of sweatpants and a loose t-shirt that doesn't belong to him and within minutes, he falls asleep on the couch with a cold mug of tea by his side.
*~*~*
Louis is avoiding green-eyed, curly-haired, and dimple-cheeked Harry Styles at all costs while wondering why in the world he'd agreed to this.
He figures it's because he still owes Zayn after he: a) convinced Zayn to fuck him in the loo of a club while Zayn was trying to be a faithful something to Liam, and b) was initially a complete prick to Liam and nearly sabotaged their entire relationship for no certifiable reason.
Louis cringes internally at that word relationship. He still thinks Zayn is being a bit naive, jumping into something like that at the reckless age of twenty with a posh and proper boy like Liam, but Louis's trying to remind himself that Zayn is his own person and that Louis has some duties as Zayn's best mate, which currently include being supportive and not sucking his cock.
Ultimately, Louis' not sure why he said yes to coming to a party at Liam's flat where Harry lives, but he's pretty sure he's just trying to prove he can be a decent human being.
(It's worth noting, maybe, that Louis had resisted at first.
"I don't think that's a very good idea," he'd said to Zayn, and Zayn had nodded knowingly.
"Thought as much," Zayn had said, his voice already gone icy, prompting Louis to sigh. Louis hadn't known a polite way to say, I fucked Liam's flatmate and left right after without so much as pretending to be interested in seeing him again.
"Zayn," he'd said instead. "I just think it's okay for you to go and party with him without me, is all."
"He invited you, you wanker. Can't you sacrifice one Friday night? You might even meet someone half-decent."
Louis'd rolled his eyes and agreed in a huff because Zayn was turning into his irrational touchy self, and Louis hadn't had it in him to defuse that kind of expert level of broodiness.)
Somewhere around his fifth drink, though, Louis becomes bored and wonders why Harry is ignoring him. Really, he'd expected Harry to be his regular glare-y teenaged self, shooting Louis cryptic yet utterly angsty looks of longing, but instead, it looks like Harry is successfully enjoying himself.
He seems to know a lot of the people there, mutual friends of him and Liam's, and hops between conversations effortlessly, loved up by the lads and ladies alike.
It all makes Louis want to gag -- Harry's dimpled cheek when he smiles with deliberate charm, the way Harry's green eyes become hazier by the drink, and the way Harry's deep and lazy voice carries across the room every once in awhile, unmistakable and grating.
Possibly, though, what makes Louis want to gag the most is the fact that he may have mixed his liquors a tad too much and should mostly slow down before he's ill. He steps out onto the balcony for some air and hangs over the railing, his red cup of vodka cranberry nestled between his fingers delicately as he scans the scene below, trying to keep the distant figures from blurring into each other.
He smells Zayn before he sees him. The sliding door drags shut behind him and the scent of Zayn's aftershave fills his nostrils. A beat later, they're elbow-to-elbow hanging over the railing, and there's a thick cloud of smoke coming from Zayn's lips and curling around him like a grey cloak.
"Have you come to check up on me?" Louis asks, holding his fingers out for Zayn's cigarette. He doesn't smoke often, but it becomes tempting when he's buzzed, the way Zayn sucks on the filter looking so utterly convincing that Louis feels the need to do the same.
Zayn shrugs, taking another pull before passing the cigarette over. Zayn tilts his head away to blow out the smoke in a steady stream. Louis takes a drag and holds the smoke in, handing it back wordlessly.
"Are you thinking to leave soon?" Zayn asks.
Louis breathes out the smoke. "I've got my eye on one or two lads," he lies. "Might be worth sticking around for."
"Just don't shag them in Liam's room," Zayn says, voice muffled around the butt of his cigarette. "Better yet, take them back to yours. Your bed could use some action."
"Don't be silly, babe, you know my rule. My flat is a 100% shag-free zone."
Zayn scoffs. "I've been in that bed with you for less-than-holy reasons too many times to believe that."
"Yeah, well. Best mate privileges. Consider yourself the chosen one."
"Flattered, really."
Louis smirks, turning around to press his back to the railing, his hands reaching behind him to curl around it on each of his sides. He listens to the sounds of Zayn smoking his cigarette to the filter before rubbing the cherry out against the metal, throwing the butt to the ground below.
They both look over as the sliding door is pulled open, and then there he is, curls and green eyes and constant charm, even when he's not smiling, even when a frown shifts his features out of place.
"Sorry," Harry says. "Didn't think I'd be interrupting. Just needed a breath."
"You haven't interrupted. Was just out here for a smoke," Zayn says, pushing himself off the railing.
Louis pulls his weight off the metal as well, making his way around Harry to go back inside, but Harry's fingers grab at his wrist and tug him back.
"I wanted to talk to you, actually," Harry says, and Louis' heart jumps to his throat but he nods, casual as ever.
Zayn surveys them, eyes traveling back and forth before giving Louis a brief, meaningful look, and Louis knows what he's saying -- he's reminding him that Harry's Liam's best mate, that Harry is off-limits, that Harry is sacred and not to be touched. Louis wants to laugh or possibly cry at the irony of the entire situation.
"I'll see you in a bit, yeah?" Zayn tells Louis, and Louis nods and watches as Zayn disappears inside, the raucous sounds of the party silenced once he pulls the sliding door shut.
Harry sits down on the edge of a plastic chair, and for the first time that night, Louis gets a proper look at him. For some reason, he's overdressed -- a white blouse unbuttoned messily to the middle of his chest and tucked into a pair of black trousers.
Harry looks like maybe he's been to a wedding or maybe he's much older than he says he is, holding down an office job and coming in and out of conference calls throughout the day. Louis smiles to himself at the thought.
"Why are you so dressed up?" he asks, nudging his foot against Harry's to get his attention.
Harry huffs out a humourless laugh, glancing down at his shiny black shoes. "My mum had a cocktail party."
"Cocktail party. That must be nice."
Louis can feel the alcohol coursing through him steadily now, and even through his blurred vision, he can tell with a sharp certainty that Harry looks gorgeous like this, his eyes tired, contradicting the vibrant city lights that wash over his face. His lips are red with wine, and there are subtle spreads of acne spotting his forehead and chin that give away his age.
Louis sits down on the edge of the table that faces Harry's chair, his legs fitting between the gap of Harry's knees. Louis runs his hands up Harry's thighs and Harry meets his eyes.
"You're still angry," Louis notes quietly, looking down at Harry's lips.
"That you shagged me and left without even pretending to be interested...? A bit bothered by it, yeah."
Louis takes his own lip between his teeth, flicking his eyes up to meet Harry's. "You're so young, Harry. Are you used to everyone wanting you all the time?"
Harry shakes his head and looks away, and Louis can tell he hit a nerve by the way Harry's lips become pursed into a tight line and he doesn't respond. Louis watches the side of his face intently. His voice is quiet when he says, "Look at me," and Harry does, turning back to meet Louis' eyes like he has no other choice.
"You'll grow up and realize that 'pretending to be interested' is a waste of your time," Louis says. "And it'll stop hurting so much to leave things behind."
Harry shakes his head, casting his eyes downward. "I liked you," he says, as if it were some grand reveal.
Louis smiles sadly, hearing the sincerity in Harry's voice. "I know you did. I reckon you still do."
Harry lets his eyes fall shut and Louis takes pity on him, leaning in and kissing his head through the curls. "You're pissed and upset. You should probably have a glass of water and shake it off."
"I don't want a bloody glass of water," Harry says. He lifts his eyes and meets Louis', silent for a long time before speaking, his voice unsteady with what seems like a bad combination of booze and vulnerability. "Do you not like me, then? Am I -- am I not your type or something?"
Louis laughs softly. "It's not about that, Harry. I wouldn't have shagged you if I wasn't at least interested."
"Then what?" Harry asks desperately. He slides his hand up the inside of Louis' thigh, inching dangerously close to his crotch. "What is it?"
Louis bites his lip, and apparently Harry takes that as encouragement, because a moment later he's rubbing Louis through his trousers. Harry rests his forehead against Louis' and both their eyes fall shut. Louis can smell the wine on Harry's breath. He lets out a small moan of appreciation at the feel of Harry's hand on him, cock responding to his advances despite himself.
"I don't think that's a good idea," Louis forces himself to say, and to his surprise, Harry actually listens to him, slowing his hand down. He rubs the line of Louis's cock but with less purpose, his palm just a light pressure as it moves up and down.
Louis moves his hands to the sides of Harry's neck and kisses his lips lightly before he scans his eyes. "You didn't tell Liam?"
"No," Harry confirms. "He'd just take it out on Zayn and I don't want to get between them."
"You'll be probably be seeing a lot more of me," Louis says. "Zayn's hellbent on having me befriend Liam and I'm guessing it's a bit of a package deal with you lot."
Harry's hand has stopped rubbing him by now, fingers curled uselessly around Louis' crotch but not moving. "Go out with me, Lou."
Louis laughs humourlessly. "You're pissed, love."
"Go out with me. When I'm sober. When you're sober. What will it hurt?"
"I don't -- I don't do that, I'm sorry."
The sliding door starts to drag open and thankfully, despite how slow his reflexes can be, Harry pulls off of Louis just in time that when Liam slips out onto the balcony, Harry and Louis don't look to be in too much of an incriminating situation.
"Everything all right, lads?" Liam asks.
Louis smiles. "Good, yeah. I was just checking up on young Harold here. He seems to be doing okay. Bit pissed, though."
Liam stands beside Harry's chair and ruffles his hair fondly. "You all right, Haz? Drank too much?"
"I'm fine," Harry says dismissively, pushing up to his feet. "Just had to get a bit of fresh air. I think I'll go to bed, though. Knackered."
"I'll grab you a glass of water," Louis offers, pushing to his feet and pressing a steadying hand to Harry's hip.
"I'm fine, really--" Harry insists, but Liam stops him.
"Don't be daft, water will keep you from waking up a mess," Liam says. "Are you sure you want to grab it, Louis? I could just get it for him myself."
"Nonsense. You're the host of this party, don't worry about it. Go entertain your guests!"
Harry leads the way inside before disappearing into the hallway and presumably to his room, the one he'd fucked Louis in just a few weeks before. Louis swallows hard at the memory. Liam thanks Louis again and Louis snaps out of his thoughts, forcing a smile and assuring him it's no trouble.
Louis fetches a glass of ice water and makes his way into the hallway; he doesn't remember much about it except that he'd been kissing Harry desperately the last time he made his way through here. He finds Liam's room first and then what looks like a spare, and it makes him wonder, briefly, how much the two of them pay to share a spacious flat like this in the good part of town. He steps into the darkness of the room at the end of the hall, immediately recognizing it as Harry's.
Harry is sitting up on the headboard with the blankets up to his waist, his torso bare save for the necklaces dangling down his chest, the pendants catching enough light from his window to sparkle in the dark. His head is tilted back and his gaze is on the ceiling, and Louis can't help but admire the long column of his throat stretched before him.
"Deja vu," Harry says.
Louis laughs under his breath. "I didn't get a good look last time. I'm fairly certain we stumbled right into your bed -- missed the grand tour entirely."
"Not much to see," Harry adds. "Feel free to have a look."
Louis shuts the door behind him and goes over to the bed, setting down the glass of water on Harry's nightstand. He surveys the floor and finds that Harry had discarded everything he was wearing, from his white blouse to his trousers and pants, leaving him naked beneath his blanket.
Louis bites his lip. He crawls into the bed, pulling the covers off Harry's waist, and Harry's eyes move to watch him. Louis holds Harry's gaze as he spits into the palm of his hand, can see the way Harry's eyes go dark at the sight. He reaches between them, curling his fingers around Harry's half-hard cock and strokes him slowly, feeling him grow in his hand with unbelievable ease.
He watches Harry's reactions. Harry's gaze is thick with lust and something else, something indiscernible, and his lips are parted soundlessly. Louis eases himself down, lets his eyes fall shut, taking Harry into his mouth. He moans appreciatively at the salty taste of Harry's precome mixed in with his own spit, his tongue flattening against the underside.
He hallows his cheeks and sucks in earnest as he lowers his lips carefully to take more of him in. He feels Harry's fingers curl in his hair, Harry's back bowing in pleasure. He can feel the length of Harry's cock force itself further down his throat when Harry's hips twitch off the bed, and it chokes him for just a moment.
He pulls off with an obscene noise, replacing his lips with his hand, jerking Harry firmly as he presses a kiss to his slit. The room fills with the wet sound of Louis' hand moving on Harry's cock, Harry's choked noises that he tries to hold back, Louis' warm, shallow breaths as his own cock stiffens in interest within the restraints of his trousers.
He takes Harry back into his throat, fondling his balls in his sweat-slick palm until Harry's at the edge of orgasm, Louis moaning around him as though it was his own release that was nearing.
Harry pulls at Louis' shoulders in warning, whining his name repeatedly, but Louis only moans around him in encouragement. Harry keens desperately and arches his hips off the bed, coming deeply into Louis' throat as his knuckles go white around his shoulders. Louis swallows around him thoroughly and pulls off inch by inch. He lifts his hand to Harry's cock, milking him through it gently, then presses a soft kiss to the underside and breaks away.
"That should help put you to sleep," Louis says, leaning over Harry's body to press a kiss to his lips.
"Do you want me to--?" Harry asks, fingers curling into Louis' waistband.
"That's all right, love. I'll live."
Harry looks into his eyes for a moment before nudging his nose against his, his eyes falling shut. "Is this when you leave again?"
"Afraid so," Louis says quietly, surveying Harry's face, but he doesn't move off him. "Why did you want me to go out with you?"
Harry shrugs. His eyes remain shut as he tilts his head back against the headboard, Louis watching the pink of his cheeks closely. "Do I need a reason? Just liked you."
"Well, there must have been something that made you like me." Louis noses at his jawline, kissing his throat. "There must have been something that had you upset when I'd left."
"You just seemed... alive," Harry says sheepishly, as though he knows just how ridiculous his admission sounds. He opens his eyes and meets Louis', smiling small now, and it must be contagious because Louis mirrors it without thought. "Your eyes lit up when you spoke and you were carefree and reckless in a way that I didn't even have to know you to figure out. I could just feel it, like a vibe. You were literally sparkling, for God's sake."
Louis smirks in amusement, pecking Harry's lips. He sits back on his legs and picks up Harry's phone from his nightstand, sliding his thumb across the bottom to unlock it. "What's your password?"
"3992," Harry supplies, watching him curiously. Louis puts in his number and saves it, setting the phone aside.
"You said you wanted to see me dance," Louis says simply. "Message me tomorrow if you still want to and I'll tell you where I am."
Louis' own phone buzzes and he stands on his knees so he can pull it out of his back pocket. He bites his lip as he responds to a message. "I'd better go before Zayn finds out I've been sucking your cock. He'll have me murdered."
Harry smirks lazily. "Will you promise to reply to my message tomorrow?"
"I said I would," Louis says. "But don't get too excited. It's just to see me dance."
"Sure," Harry says and he sounds utterly disbelieving, his tone hopeful enough that Louis wonders if he'd made a huge mistake, but before he can reiterate the fact that it's not a date, Harry is sitting up with handfuls of Louis' hips, kissing him open-mouthed and full of heat and Louis loses himself in it until his phone buzzes again and he has to break away with a moan.
"Night, love," Louis murmurs into Harry's lips, and it's too much like the last time they'd parted, but when Louis shuts the door behind him this time, he knows from the pounding of his heart that he's going to see Harry again.
part three