In My Veins - Chapter 12
pairing: arry/Louis
rating: ature
summary: arry Styles is an arrogant pop star who has fallen into a black hole of drugs and self-loathing. Dr. Louis Tomlinson is hired to fix the unfixable; but not if Harry has any say in it. Coauthored wit onedirection5 she writes even numbered chapters, I write odd).
This chapter written by Shea.
This.
Okay, so it wasn’t the most eloquent of thoughts, but as Louis felt the first touch of Harry’s lips it was all his addled mind could register.
This was what he’d been waiting for. This was what he’d longed for for two agonizing weeks. This was what had been missing that last time he and Harry had crashed their lips together. This was suspiciously indicative of love. This was Harry and Louis.
And then all semblance of any other reasonable, coherent thought slipped his mind as he was all too encompassed by the overwhelming presence of Harry. The all too mind-numbing sensation that was Harry Styles, famous singer, former addict, presently the entire world of Louis Tomlinson, doctor extraordinaire, but also, as had been speculated, possible miracle worker. Just the right fix to get rid of the wrong fix that had so long haunted the young singer.
Harryharryharryharryharry. His mind chanted as he felt a tongue sweeping at the entrance to his mouth and he willingly opened it, feeling too weak to fight for dominance, as he would normally always assume. It was just all too much.
Only it wasn’t enough, Louis faintly realized as he felt Harry’s hands reaching for his waistband, tugging his shirt out from where it had been tucked into his trousers. Oh no, the kissing and the eventual sex was plenty in itself, of that he had no doubt. But first and foremost, this, this game he and Harry had been dancing around for so long, it needed clarification. Louis needed clarification. And Louis truly hated it, having to pause their heated session in the dimly lit hallway of the club, with only the neon glare from the exit sign defining the features on both Harry’s and Louis’ faces. He hated the hurt look of absolute terror that crossed Harry’s all-too readable features the second Louis suddenly froze underneath his touch and wrenched his lips away from the warm and soft and inviting ones of the curly-haired lad in front of him. Most of all, Louis hated that tiny nagging feeling in his stomach, that warned him that maybe Harry didn’t feel the same about him, the achingly broken thought that Harry was fixed, all while Louis was breaking and that maybe Harry no longer needed him. Maybe this snogging session was all just a by-product of a successful concert high and the traces of teenage hormones. And Louis came to the conclusion that he wouldn’t find answers while his lips were fused to the only person who could provide them.
Louis took a step back, so that he could take a step forward in mending their tainted relationship.
After getting accustomed to the way too familiar feeling of emptiness upon Louis’ drawing away of his lips, Harry suddenly felt embarrassed, figuring Louis had only come to the concert to check up on Harry, to make sure he had fully recovered. Feeling his cheeks heat up at the sudden realization, he felt the courage sink away from him and fleetingly wished that his body could do the same. Harry remained in place, focusing his attention towards the dirty, grime-covered floors of the club, not daring to meet the gaze of the person whom he had basically just attacked.
Louis allowed a small, reassuring smile to grace his lips as he tried to convey that everything was alright, that they were going to be alright. “Harry. Harry, love. Look at me.”
And Harry was done in. Because that was the one expression he had never dreamed of again hearing in person, having had to hauntingly relive those words every waking night of the past two weeks. The words that always seemed to bring Harry back to earth even while he was spiralling out of control. A ragged and shaky breath escaped the boy’s mouth as he dragged his lust-filled emerald green eyes up to focus on the clear, cerulean ones of the older lad, praying Louis couldn’t read past him towards the more profound emotions surfacing their way across his features.
“I love you.” It slipped out of his mouth before he even had time to register that ohshitharrywhydidyoudothathedoesn’twantyou. Harry had been so mesmerized by Louis’ lips and Louis’ eyes and Louis, that he hadn’t been able to stop himself from uttering the one phrase he knew would ruin it all. The one thing that would lead to his inevitable self-destruction. A squeak of shock fell from his lips as he quickly covered them, really wishing that at the moment the floors would open up as easily as his mouth seemed to.
Trying to gather the last remaining semblance of self-preservation he could cling to, Harry quickly spun on his heels, heading toward the nearest closet he could crawl into, hoping to escape the sheer and utter humiliation of having uttered the three words that had been etched into his mind every time he looked into those blue eyes. Harry pushed his way into the changing room ,and was in the process of shutting it when a hand pushed its way into the small space left between the entryway and the door itself. Then a head poked its way through the crack and finally a body entered, strong and tanned and so heartbreakingly familiar that Harry could only sigh in absolute frustration, having accepted that he wouldn’t be allowed to crawl into a ball and die just yet.
Louis fucking Tomlinson had to keep pushing it, somehow finding a way to simultaneously restore and destroy Harry all at the same time.
“Haz.” It was spoken like a statement but it held a million questions, a million thoughts, a million words trying to escape from Louis’ mouth, trying to make Harry understand, to reassure him, to assuage all traces of fear and doubt and insecurity.
Seizing the younger lad’s momentary distraction, Louis quickly surged forward and into the slightly cramped and poorly-lit room, shutting the door with a resounding thud behind him. His attention focused on the boy that was currently falling apart in front of him and he vaguely took the time to wonder at how he himself had not yet collapsed to the ground, the stress and anxiety from the past few weeks having finally bubbled to the surface upon the first sight of Harry on stage, in all his perfection. Louis marvelled at how Harry had seemed to be so fine, so utterly unaffected on the stage, when he could barely bring himself to leave the confines of his flat.
But then Harry had begun singing. His voice echoing throughout the club with such strength, such passion, such complete confidence that Louis wondered how Harry had ever managed to stay away from what was clearly his home for so long.
And then, he sang that song. That one that was so clearly intended for Louis. That one that belied such a strong, intangible emotion, that Louis found it hard to breathe and just listen. That one that sparked such a hope in Louis’ chest that he had to force himself to quell the feeling, fearing Harry was only using the song as a way of thanking him, all while knowing deep down that Harry was conveying a feeling that Louis dared not touch upon himself, dared not acknowledge for fear of breaking everything the two had built toward.
He gripped Harry’s wrist - unaware of the silent battle of agony waging itself within Harry’s chest - and spun the lad around, pushing him so that his back was against the door of the room, their chests pressed together. The sound of hitching breaths and shaky gasps resounded in the room as Louis wracked his brain in order to find a way to let Harry know that his feelings were more than returned.
“Listen, Lou...Louis...Dr. Tomlinson...whatever the fuck I’m supposed to call you. Just go. Leave. You’ve done your job. I get it. Don’t worry about me.” Harry began, hating the older lad for drawing out the pain, for prolonging his own present misery.
“No way in hell am I leaving, Styles. Never.” Louis growled, wincing at the severity of his tone, knowing the lad really needed soft words, gentle caresses, and perhaps a room full of candles and rose petals.
Harry’s laugh echoed harshly, the bitterness clearly dripping from the next few sentences that he uttered. “Oh, really? So you’d just rather stay here and have a laugh at my expense, huh? Hot shot Harry Styles done in by famed psychiatrist Louis Tomlinson? That make you happy? Just leave me alone. It’d be a lot easier if you forget what I just said and I’ll...I’ll just...stop, okay?”
“Will you just shut up and let me talk?” Louis smiled then, grabbing Harry’s shoulders, and looking straight into his eyes, sucking in a deep breath of air in order to brace himself for the next step he was about to take. No going back now, Tomlinson.
“Why is it so hard for you to get through your thick skull that I’m in love with you too?! For someone as cocky as yourself, I’d figure you’d have gotten me to cave first. But I’m glad you caved instead. I’m glad you did because I sure as hell wouldn’t have had the courage to be standing here in front of you, pouring out my soul to you. So, thanks for that. I love you. I love the way you can’t quite help that smile that lights up your face every time you talk about singing. I love the way your legs hang off the edge of my ratty sofa. I love the fact that, underneath the hard exterior, you’re a big softy. I love the way you listen to my shitty stories like they’re the greatest thing you’ve ever heard, how you make me feel like I’m actually important. I love your hair, God your hair, and the way you purr when I run my hands throuh it. I love how when you sing you’re like an open book. Most of all, I just love you.”
Louis took a breath, heaving a great sigh of relief at having finally been able to express what had been for so long on his mind. He winked at the now completely-frozen boy, opting for a more teasing tone this time. “Accept it, Styles. You’re loved. Wholly and completely. And I’m not leaving. Not anymore. Not ever again. Not even if Simon offered me a million dollars. Not even if the whole fucking building caught on fire...okay, maybe then. But you can bet your arse that I’d be hauling you right off with me.”
Harry wasn’t quite sure if he was breathing anymore. The small surroundings of the room and the perfection of the words Louis had just spoken having seemed to take up all the oxygen that was even allotted to the two. He didn’t know he was crying till the first drop of cool water hit his face and then it was all over and he was sobbing and Louis’ arms were wrapping around him and he was okay. They were okay. More than okay, actually.
“I love you, Louis. So fucking much.”
~
A few days later, the boys were making the journey to Harry’s mum’s house upon Louis’ insistence of meeting his mum. Harry was groaning in his seat, dreading the meeting with his mum, but Louis had insisted.
Harry was in the driver’s seat, hands tightly gripping the wheel, with Louis in the seat beside him, arm draped around Harry’s neck, easing the tension that the prospect of seeing his mum elicited from the young singer.
“Harry, love, it’ll be alright. Your mum loves you. No need to worry.” Louis tried to placate the boy.
“I know Lou...It’s just, the last time she saw me she was just so...upset...so worried. And I know she didn’t look it, but I could tell she was disappointed. It hurt. I just couldn’t stand the thought that even my mum was so completely fed up with me...” Harry trailed off, refusing to allow his eyes to get misty at the thought he had conjured up in his mind.
“Haz...” Louis whispered, patting the boy on his thigh. “She loves you. She accepts you. And I know she’s so proud of you.”
“Thanks, Lou.” Harry smiled, finding it hard to focus his attention on the road when those eyes were so focused on him.
“Anytime, Haz.”
~
Soon they arrived, pulling into the driveway and watching as the door to the house was flung wide open. A teary-eyed woman stood on the doorstep with arms outstretched, reaching for her son.
Harry strode right into her arms, grabbing his mum tightly, and hoping no one noticed the slight moisture burning at the back of his eyes.
Louis watched on slightly from off in the distance, not wanting to interrupt the moment, and also worrying about Anne would think of him.
Harry broke apart from the embrace and motioned for Louis to make his way over, feeling as if his heart would burst upon seeing the tentative smile on the other boy’s face.
Wordlessly, Anne reached out her arms and gripped Louis in a tight hug, whispering a “thank you” into his ear, before drawing apart, eyes shiny with tears.
“Well, come on in, boys!” Anne wiped her eyes and ushered the boys inside.
They were all gathered around the kitchen table, Louis and Harry sitting next to each other despite the expansive size of the table. Smile threatening to break her cheeks, Anne observed the way the two interacted and laughed at the way Harry stuck his tongue out at Louis or the way Louis seemed to flush bright red whenever Harry whispered something in his ear.
It was getting late and the boys were feeling drowsy. Anne had insisted that they spend the night next to the house in the bungalow that Robin had built, not allowing any of their excuses about not having packed extra clothes. “You can wear Harry’s clothes that he left behind a couple years ago, Louis. And Harry, I bought you some new clothes recently. Now stop complaining and eat your peas.”
~
Anne wanted to talk to Louis, so she sent Harry off to do the dishes and pulled Louis into the living room, out of Harry’s hearing range.
“I said it before, but I don’t know how else to truly convey how utterly and completely I am indebted to you, Louis, for taking care of my boy. Thank you for bringing back the cheeky lad I thought I’d lost years ago and for not giving up on him. You’ve made him happier than I’ve ever seen. You’ve done nothing short of a miracle, Louis Tomlinson. So, from the bottom of my heart, thank you.”
Louis only nodded, finding it hard to speak past the lump in his throat, and managing a croaky “you’re welcome.”
“Oh, and Louis?” Anne called back to him as she was exiting the room.
He looked towards her.
“Welcome to the family.”
~
It was late at night and the glow from the fire was making Harry’s face look even prettier than Louis thought possible. He tightened his arms around the thin waist that was currently settled in his lap, the warm quilt and their hearts keeping the boys warm on the chilly night.
They were nestled together on a chair outside the bungalow, watching the flames of the fire lick in the air, and gazing at stars, getting excited at the sight of an occasional shooting one. Their bodies melded together as Harry nestled his neck into Louis’, tickling the older lad’s face with his curls, and giggling when Louis reached down and kissed him lightly on the nose.
And as they settled back into the seat, wrapped in each other’s arms, Harry felt it. This powerful feeling of love that had more heat than the fire itself in front of them.
Harry was whole. He felt it in the warm and strong arms of the man holding him and in the surging thump of his heart as it beat in time with the chest pressed against his.
He felt it in his veins.
rating: ature
summary: arry Styles is an arrogant pop star who has fallen into a black hole of drugs and self-loathing. Dr. Louis Tomlinson is hired to fix the unfixable; but not if Harry has any say in it. Coauthored wit onedirection5 she writes even numbered chapters, I write odd).
This chapter written by Shea.
This.
Okay, so it wasn’t the most eloquent of thoughts, but as Louis felt the first touch of Harry’s lips it was all his addled mind could register.
This was what he’d been waiting for. This was what he’d longed for for two agonizing weeks. This was what had been missing that last time he and Harry had crashed their lips together. This was suspiciously indicative of love. This was Harry and Louis.
And then all semblance of any other reasonable, coherent thought slipped his mind as he was all too encompassed by the overwhelming presence of Harry. The all too mind-numbing sensation that was Harry Styles, famous singer, former addict, presently the entire world of Louis Tomlinson, doctor extraordinaire, but also, as had been speculated, possible miracle worker. Just the right fix to get rid of the wrong fix that had so long haunted the young singer.
Harryharryharryharryharry. His mind chanted as he felt a tongue sweeping at the entrance to his mouth and he willingly opened it, feeling too weak to fight for dominance, as he would normally always assume. It was just all too much.
Only it wasn’t enough, Louis faintly realized as he felt Harry’s hands reaching for his waistband, tugging his shirt out from where it had been tucked into his trousers. Oh no, the kissing and the eventual sex was plenty in itself, of that he had no doubt. But first and foremost, this, this game he and Harry had been dancing around for so long, it needed clarification. Louis needed clarification. And Louis truly hated it, having to pause their heated session in the dimly lit hallway of the club, with only the neon glare from the exit sign defining the features on both Harry’s and Louis’ faces. He hated the hurt look of absolute terror that crossed Harry’s all-too readable features the second Louis suddenly froze underneath his touch and wrenched his lips away from the warm and soft and inviting ones of the curly-haired lad in front of him. Most of all, Louis hated that tiny nagging feeling in his stomach, that warned him that maybe Harry didn’t feel the same about him, the achingly broken thought that Harry was fixed, all while Louis was breaking and that maybe Harry no longer needed him. Maybe this snogging session was all just a by-product of a successful concert high and the traces of teenage hormones. And Louis came to the conclusion that he wouldn’t find answers while his lips were fused to the only person who could provide them.
Louis took a step back, so that he could take a step forward in mending their tainted relationship.
After getting accustomed to the way too familiar feeling of emptiness upon Louis’ drawing away of his lips, Harry suddenly felt embarrassed, figuring Louis had only come to the concert to check up on Harry, to make sure he had fully recovered. Feeling his cheeks heat up at the sudden realization, he felt the courage sink away from him and fleetingly wished that his body could do the same. Harry remained in place, focusing his attention towards the dirty, grime-covered floors of the club, not daring to meet the gaze of the person whom he had basically just attacked.
Louis allowed a small, reassuring smile to grace his lips as he tried to convey that everything was alright, that they were going to be alright. “Harry. Harry, love. Look at me.”
And Harry was done in. Because that was the one expression he had never dreamed of again hearing in person, having had to hauntingly relive those words every waking night of the past two weeks. The words that always seemed to bring Harry back to earth even while he was spiralling out of control. A ragged and shaky breath escaped the boy’s mouth as he dragged his lust-filled emerald green eyes up to focus on the clear, cerulean ones of the older lad, praying Louis couldn’t read past him towards the more profound emotions surfacing their way across his features.
“I love you.” It slipped out of his mouth before he even had time to register that ohshitharrywhydidyoudothathedoesn’twantyou. Harry had been so mesmerized by Louis’ lips and Louis’ eyes and Louis, that he hadn’t been able to stop himself from uttering the one phrase he knew would ruin it all. The one thing that would lead to his inevitable self-destruction. A squeak of shock fell from his lips as he quickly covered them, really wishing that at the moment the floors would open up as easily as his mouth seemed to.
Trying to gather the last remaining semblance of self-preservation he could cling to, Harry quickly spun on his heels, heading toward the nearest closet he could crawl into, hoping to escape the sheer and utter humiliation of having uttered the three words that had been etched into his mind every time he looked into those blue eyes. Harry pushed his way into the changing room ,and was in the process of shutting it when a hand pushed its way into the small space left between the entryway and the door itself. Then a head poked its way through the crack and finally a body entered, strong and tanned and so heartbreakingly familiar that Harry could only sigh in absolute frustration, having accepted that he wouldn’t be allowed to crawl into a ball and die just yet.
Louis fucking Tomlinson had to keep pushing it, somehow finding a way to simultaneously restore and destroy Harry all at the same time.
“Haz.” It was spoken like a statement but it held a million questions, a million thoughts, a million words trying to escape from Louis’ mouth, trying to make Harry understand, to reassure him, to assuage all traces of fear and doubt and insecurity.
Seizing the younger lad’s momentary distraction, Louis quickly surged forward and into the slightly cramped and poorly-lit room, shutting the door with a resounding thud behind him. His attention focused on the boy that was currently falling apart in front of him and he vaguely took the time to wonder at how he himself had not yet collapsed to the ground, the stress and anxiety from the past few weeks having finally bubbled to the surface upon the first sight of Harry on stage, in all his perfection. Louis marvelled at how Harry had seemed to be so fine, so utterly unaffected on the stage, when he could barely bring himself to leave the confines of his flat.
But then Harry had begun singing. His voice echoing throughout the club with such strength, such passion, such complete confidence that Louis wondered how Harry had ever managed to stay away from what was clearly his home for so long.
And then, he sang that song. That one that was so clearly intended for Louis. That one that belied such a strong, intangible emotion, that Louis found it hard to breathe and just listen. That one that sparked such a hope in Louis’ chest that he had to force himself to quell the feeling, fearing Harry was only using the song as a way of thanking him, all while knowing deep down that Harry was conveying a feeling that Louis dared not touch upon himself, dared not acknowledge for fear of breaking everything the two had built toward.
He gripped Harry’s wrist - unaware of the silent battle of agony waging itself within Harry’s chest - and spun the lad around, pushing him so that his back was against the door of the room, their chests pressed together. The sound of hitching breaths and shaky gasps resounded in the room as Louis wracked his brain in order to find a way to let Harry know that his feelings were more than returned.
“Listen, Lou...Louis...Dr. Tomlinson...whatever the fuck I’m supposed to call you. Just go. Leave. You’ve done your job. I get it. Don’t worry about me.” Harry began, hating the older lad for drawing out the pain, for prolonging his own present misery.
“No way in hell am I leaving, Styles. Never.” Louis growled, wincing at the severity of his tone, knowing the lad really needed soft words, gentle caresses, and perhaps a room full of candles and rose petals.
Harry’s laugh echoed harshly, the bitterness clearly dripping from the next few sentences that he uttered. “Oh, really? So you’d just rather stay here and have a laugh at my expense, huh? Hot shot Harry Styles done in by famed psychiatrist Louis Tomlinson? That make you happy? Just leave me alone. It’d be a lot easier if you forget what I just said and I’ll...I’ll just...stop, okay?”
“Will you just shut up and let me talk?” Louis smiled then, grabbing Harry’s shoulders, and looking straight into his eyes, sucking in a deep breath of air in order to brace himself for the next step he was about to take. No going back now, Tomlinson.
“Why is it so hard for you to get through your thick skull that I’m in love with you too?! For someone as cocky as yourself, I’d figure you’d have gotten me to cave first. But I’m glad you caved instead. I’m glad you did because I sure as hell wouldn’t have had the courage to be standing here in front of you, pouring out my soul to you. So, thanks for that. I love you. I love the way you can’t quite help that smile that lights up your face every time you talk about singing. I love the way your legs hang off the edge of my ratty sofa. I love the fact that, underneath the hard exterior, you’re a big softy. I love the way you listen to my shitty stories like they’re the greatest thing you’ve ever heard, how you make me feel like I’m actually important. I love your hair, God your hair, and the way you purr when I run my hands throuh it. I love how when you sing you’re like an open book. Most of all, I just love you.”
Louis took a breath, heaving a great sigh of relief at having finally been able to express what had been for so long on his mind. He winked at the now completely-frozen boy, opting for a more teasing tone this time. “Accept it, Styles. You’re loved. Wholly and completely. And I’m not leaving. Not anymore. Not ever again. Not even if Simon offered me a million dollars. Not even if the whole fucking building caught on fire...okay, maybe then. But you can bet your arse that I’d be hauling you right off with me.”
Harry wasn’t quite sure if he was breathing anymore. The small surroundings of the room and the perfection of the words Louis had just spoken having seemed to take up all the oxygen that was even allotted to the two. He didn’t know he was crying till the first drop of cool water hit his face and then it was all over and he was sobbing and Louis’ arms were wrapping around him and he was okay. They were okay. More than okay, actually.
“I love you, Louis. So fucking much.”
~
A few days later, the boys were making the journey to Harry’s mum’s house upon Louis’ insistence of meeting his mum. Harry was groaning in his seat, dreading the meeting with his mum, but Louis had insisted.
Harry was in the driver’s seat, hands tightly gripping the wheel, with Louis in the seat beside him, arm draped around Harry’s neck, easing the tension that the prospect of seeing his mum elicited from the young singer.
“Harry, love, it’ll be alright. Your mum loves you. No need to worry.” Louis tried to placate the boy.
“I know Lou...It’s just, the last time she saw me she was just so...upset...so worried. And I know she didn’t look it, but I could tell she was disappointed. It hurt. I just couldn’t stand the thought that even my mum was so completely fed up with me...” Harry trailed off, refusing to allow his eyes to get misty at the thought he had conjured up in his mind.
“Haz...” Louis whispered, patting the boy on his thigh. “She loves you. She accepts you. And I know she’s so proud of you.”
“Thanks, Lou.” Harry smiled, finding it hard to focus his attention on the road when those eyes were so focused on him.
“Anytime, Haz.”
~
Soon they arrived, pulling into the driveway and watching as the door to the house was flung wide open. A teary-eyed woman stood on the doorstep with arms outstretched, reaching for her son.
Harry strode right into her arms, grabbing his mum tightly, and hoping no one noticed the slight moisture burning at the back of his eyes.
Louis watched on slightly from off in the distance, not wanting to interrupt the moment, and also worrying about Anne would think of him.
Harry broke apart from the embrace and motioned for Louis to make his way over, feeling as if his heart would burst upon seeing the tentative smile on the other boy’s face.
Wordlessly, Anne reached out her arms and gripped Louis in a tight hug, whispering a “thank you” into his ear, before drawing apart, eyes shiny with tears.
“Well, come on in, boys!” Anne wiped her eyes and ushered the boys inside.
They were all gathered around the kitchen table, Louis and Harry sitting next to each other despite the expansive size of the table. Smile threatening to break her cheeks, Anne observed the way the two interacted and laughed at the way Harry stuck his tongue out at Louis or the way Louis seemed to flush bright red whenever Harry whispered something in his ear.
It was getting late and the boys were feeling drowsy. Anne had insisted that they spend the night next to the house in the bungalow that Robin had built, not allowing any of their excuses about not having packed extra clothes. “You can wear Harry’s clothes that he left behind a couple years ago, Louis. And Harry, I bought you some new clothes recently. Now stop complaining and eat your peas.”
~
Anne wanted to talk to Louis, so she sent Harry off to do the dishes and pulled Louis into the living room, out of Harry’s hearing range.
“I said it before, but I don’t know how else to truly convey how utterly and completely I am indebted to you, Louis, for taking care of my boy. Thank you for bringing back the cheeky lad I thought I’d lost years ago and for not giving up on him. You’ve made him happier than I’ve ever seen. You’ve done nothing short of a miracle, Louis Tomlinson. So, from the bottom of my heart, thank you.”
Louis only nodded, finding it hard to speak past the lump in his throat, and managing a croaky “you’re welcome.”
“Oh, and Louis?” Anne called back to him as she was exiting the room.
He looked towards her.
“Welcome to the family.”
~
It was late at night and the glow from the fire was making Harry’s face look even prettier than Louis thought possible. He tightened his arms around the thin waist that was currently settled in his lap, the warm quilt and their hearts keeping the boys warm on the chilly night.
They were nestled together on a chair outside the bungalow, watching the flames of the fire lick in the air, and gazing at stars, getting excited at the sight of an occasional shooting one. Their bodies melded together as Harry nestled his neck into Louis’, tickling the older lad’s face with his curls, and giggling when Louis reached down and kissed him lightly on the nose.
And as they settled back into the seat, wrapped in each other’s arms, Harry felt it. This powerful feeling of love that had more heat than the fire itself in front of them.
Harry was whole. He felt it in the warm and strong arms of the man holding him and in the surging thump of his heart as it beat in time with the chest pressed against his.
He felt it in his veins.