High as a Kite (Part 1)
Title: High as a Kite (Blister in the Sun song!fic)
Pairings: Harry/Louis
Rating: 16+
Wordcount: 1159
Summary: Written for the 1D kinkmeme prompt of "a Violent Femmes song!fic for Blister in the Sun, especially focusing on the line 'big hands, I know you're the one.'"
A/N: Trigger warning for drug use.
“when I'm out walkin', I strut my stuff -- yeah, I'm so strung out
I'm high as a kite; I just might stop to check you out
let me go on, like I blister in the sun
let me go on, big hands, I know you're the one”
***
He knew Louis wasn't going to stop any time soon.
“Just one more time, Hazza”, he would mumble, as his tongue stuck slightly out of his mouth in concentration.
Harry only listened partially, as Louis' list of excuses got longer and more pathetic as once more turned into twice turned into he stopped caring so much. What was once a rush of adrenaline and a true feeling of rock 'n roll, faded away to be replaced with numbness, addiction, and (Harry thought miserably) slowly killing oneself.
Why was he here with him?
As Harry watched the older boy expertly load the syringe, he felt the familiar, dull stabbing at his heart. Lou wordlessly passed him the rubber cord and held out his arm, a twinkle in his eye.
He tied Louis' bicep carefully, fulfilling his regretted promise. As Louis stuck the needle in and released the plunger, his pupils dilated and Harry felt like he was going to vomit.
**
They walked silently to Zayn and Liam's shared hotel suite, Louis practically bouncing with each step. His arm brushed against Harry's, leaving the curly-haired lad a bit breathless and even more disgusted with himself.
He knocked the intricate pattern against the door (you couldn't be too careful when there were screaming teenage girls with the ability to sneak past security), and it was flung open so they were face to face with Nialler.
“Lads!” he yelled, a bit too cheerful.
Harry nodded at him, a forced smile conjured up for his sake. But Lou, with his infectious grin and false confidence, jumped on his Irish bandmate, successfully knocking him to the ground with a yelp.
“I just did my hair, you dolt,” he exclaimed, a sarcastic look creeping onto his face. Louis then proceeded to run his thin fingers through Niall's blonde locks, giving him a nice case of bedhead.
“You're going to pay for that, Tommo.”
And with that statement, they were rolling around on the ground, wrestling like teenage boys do. Beads of sweat formed on Louis' top lip, and Harry wouldn't have been surprised if he went into cardiac arrest right then and there.
Thankfully, the match was cut short, as Zayn popped out of the bathroom, giving the two a Look, and motioning to Liam and Harry.
“Can we please get the fuck out of this hotel before Louis wets himself?”
**
As they were walking down the hallway to the elevator, Niall's hair in a rushed quick fix for the time being (“Where is Louise when you need her?” he had grumbled), Harry watched his best friends react with each other. Zayn poking Liam in the side and scurrying away before Li had a chance to reciprocate; Louis taking turns getting piggybacks from all boys (even Harry, who couldn't help but grudgingly laugh because he could never deny Louis anything he wanted no matter how hard he tried); and Liam finding delight in attempting to mess up Niall's quiff again - although, that only got him death glares in return.
Harry then knew why he was so pathetically head over heels.
No matter how much they all said I love you (everyday, sometimes twice), no matter the instant, unimaginable bond they shared, it was always going to be Harry and Louis. He couldn't even think of the backlash the pair would get if the three others found out Lou's little secret. It was the fact that no matter what Louis did, or would do, Harry would never be torn away from him.
And he had to force his eyes away from the Doncaster boy's perfect face, as now was generally the time Lou got the best of himself - his high washing over him in a wave of pure euphoric bliss. He caught Harry's glance and smirked, a content smile making his lips turn up just so.
“Haz,” he murmured, not quite loud enough for anyone else's ears.
Harry twitched. He fell silent as Louis nuzzled into his neck, threading their arms together, and sighed dramatically.
This was some sort of strange hell to be put through.
**
The hoards of screaming girls did not, unfortunately, come as a surprise as the fivesome swished through the front hotel doors (with Paul in tow, of course). They all stood around, slightly awkwardly as fans shrieked their names and bad X Factor references.
Lou's eyes bulged at the brightness of being outdoors, and the rush of heroin in his bloodstream. His skin felt like it was on fire (in the best way possible) and damn, did Harry always look like that, or was it just a recent discovery? He licked his lips, and grabbed Zayn's water bottle to quench his sudden thirst.
This happened every time he used, and he thinks it would have at least become more familiar by now. But it was never ending - as long as he used just a bit more, just a bit more. His head swam with ecstasy and he smiled brightly to the crowd, who went wild.
One thing stood out in Louis' slowed down mind from the chattering voices.
“TOMMO LOVES STYLES!”
He didn't know why, but it caught his attention, and his head perked up just the slightest bit. A shiver wracked his body, and he winked at the fan (was she 12? 24? Louis couldn't even tell if that was an appropriate gesture, he was so far gone) and the small group of friends around her started squealing like the overexcited girls they were.
Lou turned his head towards his best mate, standing right next to him with a look on his face that read clearly, 'I don't want to be here right now.'
It seemed like the obvious choice, Lou thought, as he ran his sluggish yet happy eyes over Harry's slightly muscular form. He didn't care that basically every girl in attendance had their mobile with them. He didn't care that they all had Twitter accounts. And frankly, the drug was telling him he just didn't fucking care that there might be repercussions for what he was about to do.
But the sun in his eyes and the way Harry's fists clenched nervously (were they always that big, too?) against the belt loops of his jeans made him breathe a bit quicker than normal, even after the events that day.
Throwing his arm around Harry, Lou leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, wondering why he hadn't done it before, and flashed a blinding smile at the ever-growing audience.
The noise was unbearable, and Louis' eyes went misty as he unintentionally drowned them out with thoughts of blue skies, the scent of Harry's cologne, and his beautiful hands.