When You’re Around Me (I’m Radioactive)
Title: When You’re Around Me (I’m Radioactive)
Author: zeropercent
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Harry/Louis
Summary: AU. Harry works at a record store and he has an obsession with memories.
Disclaimer: Cut and title go to Marina and The Diamonds. Not real, didn’t happen, false, etc.
Author Notes: Based on this picture and this picture. Also, I want to thank thesilverwitch for being awesome.
Harry loves where he works. He loves the atmosphere, the smell of new records, the way the place is never completely lit because the owner doesn’t want to pay the full electricity bill. It’s quiet and not many people come in, so Harry just sits at the register and reads a book. He likes the peace.
He doesn’t avert his gaze at the sound of the bell chiming, signaling that someone has come in. He hears shuffling, the sign that someone’s looking through the vinyl records. He turns the page in his book and brushes the hair from his eyes, scratching at the tattoo on his neck.
“Excuse me.”
He looks up and feels his breath catch in his throat. He manages to say, “Yes?”
“Where can I find Metallica’s self-titled?”
Harry puts his bookmark in and gets up, making a movement so the man can follow him. He goes and pulls it out with ease; the man gives him a grin and says, “Thanks.”
“Good album, mate.” Harry sticks his hand out, “I’m Harry.”
“Louis.” He takes his hand and Louis’s handshake is firm and warm, and Harry finds his touch lingering on his palm. “Any recommendations?”
Harry lights up and says, “A ton, if you have time to listen.”
Louis says, “All I have is time.”
-
Louis comes back the next day, and Harry smiles at him, putting his book down. Louis rests his elbows on the counter and talks about the records he bought yesterday. He talks about how the bands Harry recommended were really good and he asks if there are any more.
Harry nods and suggests some more recent bands, Louis makes comments on some of them, saying he saw them at Leeds but never checked them out.
Harry finds himself staring at Louis’s lips, the metal rings in them. He wonders if they’re cold and how they would feel on his skin. Sure, Harry has one of his own, but it feels different. He shakes the thoughts and looks back up at Louis’s eyes, noticing the way they seem darker now than they did two minutes ago.
-
Louis ends up passing by every day when Harry’s working. Harry asked a coworker, and Louis doesn’t come in when Harry doesn’t.
He usually sits on the counter and they chat about their lives. Louis turns out to be twenty four, and he lives by himself in a studio flat on the edge of town. He used to be in a band, but the lifestyle was too stressful for the rest of his band mates, so they split, and now he’s a painter. His first pet was a dog, and he knows how to play a ton of different instruments. Harry doesn’t think he’s ever met someone so interesting. He wants Louis to talk forever.
When Louis asks Harry about himself, Harry mumbles, “I’m not that fascinating.”
“Neither am I, but I told you everything anyways.”
Harry tells him he lives in a small flat, across from a coffee shop. He used to own chinchilla and for his birthday every year, his mother would get him a pair of shoes until she passed away when he was seventeen. When he needs to calm down or clear his head, he always goes to the pier. He gets tattoos to remember, and to forget.
Louis asks, “What about the bracelets on your wrist?”
“Just stuff from friends. Got this one from Leeds a few years ago though,” he points to one and Louis smiles.
“Do you remember who gave it to you?”
Harry frowns, feeling slightly out of place, “No, but I remember having a good time with him.”
Louis abruptly says, “I’m gonna go. I’ll see you later, yeah?”
Harry stands there when he’s gone, trying to make sense of what just happened. That night, he dreams of bright eyes lined with eyeliner and a contagious smile, with loud music in the distance.
-
“So, I was wondering,” Harry’s head shoots up; he hadn’t even noticed Louis was there, “if you’d like to go out with me?” Harry tries to form words, but he just ends up looking at Louis with wide eyes. “If not, that’s okay.”
“No, no. It would be great. Yeah. I’d like to.” He internally smacks himself.
“Awesome.” Louis hands him a piece of paper, “That’s my number.” He bites his lip and picks at his nails, “This whole thing seemed a lot better in my head.”
Harry says, “I like it this way.”
Louis grins, “I’m glad one of us does.” He leans over the counter and Harry doesn’t move back, so he feels Louis’s breaths hit his lips. For a minute, he thinks Louis is going to do something, but he just pulls away and says, “I have to go. I just wanted to stop by for a few minutes. Call me, okay?”
“Yeah, of course.”
When he gets home later that day, he does call Louis. They set up a date to hang out at Harry’s flat (Louis said his flat was a mess, and it was embarrassing to have anyone over). They talk until four in the morning, and Harry only stops the conversation because he has to go to work in five hours and a little sleep would be nice. Louis tells him he’s glad they met, and Harry says, likewise.
-
Louis doesn’t come by the next day and Harry finds himself upset all throughout his shift. He doesn’t bother reading his book, just keeps his head down, only raising it when people want to make purchases or ask him something.
When he’s locking up the store, his phone rings. The screen flashes, Louis, and he instantly feels better. He answers, and Louis voice immediately says, “Sorry I couldn’t come by today.” He says it’s fine, but Louis continues, “You don’t work tomorrow, right? Come by, I’ll make it up to you.”
“You don’t have to-”
“I want to.” He gives Harry his address, and tells him he’ll wait for him outside.
A few minutes later, Harry’s in his car, driving to Louis’s flat. Harry recalls the conversation they had last night, how Louis said his place was a mess. When he gets there, he pushes away the thought when he sees Louis standing there, fidgeting uncomfortably. Louis sees him approaching and his face lights up, Harry waves and he pulls him into a hug. Harry buries his face into the crook of his neck and digs his fingers into Louis’s hair, feeling Louis relax against him.
Louis grabs his hand and leads him up to his flat, he looks embarrassed as he mumbles, “It’s really messy. So, sorry about that.”
He unlocks the door and Harry’s hit with the strong scent of paint and vanilla. There’s paint on the walls and a canvas in the corner. Harry steps closer to it and says, “Wow.” He wants to reach out and touch it, like he could absorb some of the beauty. “It’s amazing.” He looks over at Louis, who’s blushing profusely.
“It’s not finished but-yeah, it’s you.”
“I can tell. Thank you.”
Louis comes up to him and puts his arms on his waist. Louis whispers, “Tell me if I’m out of line,” and kisses him. Harry hooks his hands around Louis’s neck, pressing back. His lips feel oddly familiar, yet refreshingly new. They move a bit, and Louis is warm against him, gently pushing him down onto the couch. Harry runs his hands over Louis’s arms, over his tattoos.
Louis’s snakebites are cold, but they quickly warm up. “Spend the night?”
Harry nods, “Yeah, yeah.” He opens his mouth and Louis runs his tongue over his lip, unbuttoning his work shirt. Harry tilts his head back and makes a noise, letting Louis toss his shirt to the floor. “We’re not-”
Louis kisses the corner of his mouth, “Not if you don’t want to.” Harry looks unsure and Louis says, “Okay. I won’t.”
“It’s not you. It’s just...”
“Hey, it’s alright. I know.” He gives Harry a reassuring smile, and Harry leans up, his lips sliding over Louis’s cheek. Louis murmurs, “You’re amazing,” brushing the tips of his fingers along Harry’s jaw. Harry lifts up Louis’s shirt, throwing it next to his own on the ground. He traces Louis’s chest piece, staring intently.
“I made you something to eat, if you’d like.” His face flushes, “Well, it’s, cookies, but, yeah.”
“I’d love some.”
Later, they sit on Louis’s bed, watching one of the movies from his DVD collection on his laptop. Louis absentmindedly plays with Harry’s curls and Harry toys with the string on Louis’s sweatpants. There’s an empty plate on the nightstand, covered in cookie crumbs.
It’s ten when the movie ends, and Louis sets his computer on the dresser, getting under the covers with Harry. He holds him close, listening to Harry’s even breathing as he dozes off.
-
Harry looks peaceful when he’s asleep. His eyeliner from the day before is smudged since he didn’t wash it off, and his hair falls into his face just right, seemingly accentuating all of his features. Louis wants to pick up a pencil and draw this moment, but he doesn’t want to get up.
Harry’s eyelashes flutter and Louis’s met with vibrant green eyes looking up at him. “Good morning.”
Harry doesn’t say anything, just cups his hand around the back of Louis’s neck and kisses him, a soft press of lips. When he goes to pull away, Louis chases his mouth, and Harry laughs, reaching up and pushing his hair back. Louis offers some coffee, and Harry says that it would be nice.
-
They spend the day on Louis’s sofa, the laptop on the coffee table, playing a movie. Louis doesn’t own a television, he says he doesn’t have much interest in the TV anyway.
Louis has a corkboard with a ton of things on it. Concert tickets, pictures, movie tickets, simple mementos. There’s a red bracelet that catches Harry’s attention. He points to it and asks, “Louis, where did you get that?”
Louis walks over to him and says, “The bracelet? A nice guy with curly hair gave it to me at Leeds a few years ago.”
Harry stares at him. No. Louis gives him a forced smile and Harry breathes out, “It was you.” Louis nods and Harry feels dizzy, “I have to go.”
“Harry-”
“I’ll see you later, Louis.” With that, he’s out the door, rushing to the lift and ignoring Louis’s voice calling him.
-
Harry decides to go to the pier to clear his head. He sits on the edge, water occasionally splashing his feet. He puts his head in his hands. Louis knew this whole time. And he didn’t even tell him.
He remembers that night, he remembers it well. A man-Louis, he now knows-came up to him and they hit it off immediately. Louis was warm, and comforting. Harry had had a bad week, so having this nice guy hitting on him was flattering, and it helped him forget about how shitty the past few days had been.
He hung out with Louis the whole time. Throughout the day, they shared drinks and kisses, not even bothering with knowing each other’s names. Harry liked Louis, he wasn’t bad memories. He was a fresh start. Harry took him home after the festival, and let Louis fuck him in his bed. He came with his fingers in Louis’s hair and Louis’s mouth on his neck, sucking marks into his skin. Louis was gone by morning, only leaving a bracelet on the pillow. It might be silly, but Harry hasn’t taken it off since.
Louis left him with one of the best memories he has.
He sighs and thinks about where he and Louis could go from here. They could get together. Or Harry could ignore him completely and forget about him. But he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to forget about the person he’s spend the last two years thinking about. He’s been alone for so long. Maybe Louis is what he needs.
Harry remembers how Louis looked. Only a couple tattoos, one ring in his lip. His hair looked the same, and so did his eyes. How did Harry not notice?
He hears footsteps and someone sits next to him. He looks over and it’s Louis. “How did you know I’d be here?”
“You told me you always go to the pier.” Harry feels the corners of his lips turn upwards. “Sorry I didn’t tell you. I knew-the moment I saw your bracelet.” Harry lets him thread their fingers together, “I didn’t want to say anything, since I kind of wanted us to have a clean slate.”
“I wish you had told me.”
“I know. I realize my mistake now.” He runs his thumb over Harry’s knuckles, and Harry puts his head on his shoulder. “I don’t know what else to say. I’m just sorry.”
“Don’t say anything.”
Louis buries his nose into Harry’s hair, wrapping his arms around him.
-
A week later, Louis takes him out on a proper date. They go out to a small restaurant and afterwards, Harry goes home with Louis. He borrows Louis’s pajamas and lies in bed with him, listening to Louis’s record player.
He pushes Louis’s shirt up and presses his fingertips to his hip.
“Harry, what-?”
“I remember the scar.” He traces it, “This one.”
Louis looks down and says, “My dog gave it to me when I was little. I’m surprised you remembered.”
“I like remembering little things.” Like the way Louis only seems to own band shirts and striped shirts, and the way he never gets his eyeliner quite right so it’s always smudged, the little freckles on his arms that are barely visible. Harry knows. And he won’t forget. Louis presses his mouth to Harry’s jaw and Harry brings his hand up and lets his fingers glide over Louis’s collarbone.
Louis shuts his eyes and throws a leg over Harry’s thighs, nuzzling his nose to his skin.
-
When Harry’s working, Louis brings him lunch. He hangs around and Harry speaks between bites, “Can you come over to my flat tonight?”
“Sure, babe. I’ll pick you up at closing, okay?”
“Yeah.” He leans over and gives Harry a kiss on the cheek before leaving.
-
Louis looks around and says, “It looks like it used to.”
Harry locks the door and shrugs, “I’m not one for interior decorating.”
Louis steps towards him and Harry fists his hands in his jumper. His eyes ask a question and Harry nods, pulling him to the bed. Louis works on the buttons of his shirt, and Harry remembers his sure hands, the way they know what they’re doing, the way they know Harry’s body like he’s a map that Louis has been studying forever.
He gives Harry a chance to back out, to push him away, but Harry doesn’t, and he shoves his jeans and boxers down, letting Harry kick them off. Harry does the same thing to him, and Louis grips his thighs, settling in between them. Harry breathes heavily, nervous, and Louis whispers encouragements. He slides his hands up and wraps one around Harry’s dick, earning a moan. Harry reaches up and squeezes Louis’s shoulders, bucking up into his fist. Louis shifts and Harry says, “Come up a bit.”
He does, and Harry snakes a hand around both of their cocks, tight friction almost unbearable. Louis curses and ruts up, replacing Harry’s hand with his own. Harry writhes and digs his nails into the bed sheets, Louis’s name falling from his lips.
Louis’s kisses him, and Harry opens up for him, letting him lick his way into his mouth. He arches up against him and gasps when Louis runs his thumb over the head of his cock.
“Tighter.”
Louis complies, feeling Harry leak precome over his cock. “God, Harry.” He squeezes Harry’s hip and presses down, bruising him. Harry throws an arm over his eyes and Louis protests, “Let me see you, babe.”
Harry shakes his head and lets out a shaky breath, “I can’t-”
He nudges Harry’s arm with his head, making him move it, “It’s alright, love.” He flicks his wrist and Harry comes over his hand, face flushing and body trembling. It pushes Louis over the edge, and he hides his face in the crook of his neck. Harry slips his hands up his back and Louis pants against his skin, pressing his lips to the tattoo on his neck and Harry kisses his temple, slumping back against the pillows.
Louis lets out a laugh, “God, we’re messy.” Harry makes a noise and Louis wipes his hand on the bed, earning a grimace. “What?”
“Nothing.”
Louis rolls off of Harry and stretches out, giving him a smile. He pulls him in close and Harry whispers, “Don’t leave me this time.”
“I won’t.”
Author: zeropercent
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Harry/Louis
Summary: AU. Harry works at a record store and he has an obsession with memories.
Disclaimer: Cut and title go to Marina and The Diamonds. Not real, didn’t happen, false, etc.
Author Notes: Based on this picture and this picture. Also, I want to thank thesilverwitch for being awesome.
Harry loves where he works. He loves the atmosphere, the smell of new records, the way the place is never completely lit because the owner doesn’t want to pay the full electricity bill. It’s quiet and not many people come in, so Harry just sits at the register and reads a book. He likes the peace.
He doesn’t avert his gaze at the sound of the bell chiming, signaling that someone has come in. He hears shuffling, the sign that someone’s looking through the vinyl records. He turns the page in his book and brushes the hair from his eyes, scratching at the tattoo on his neck.
“Excuse me.”
He looks up and feels his breath catch in his throat. He manages to say, “Yes?”
“Where can I find Metallica’s self-titled?”
Harry puts his bookmark in and gets up, making a movement so the man can follow him. He goes and pulls it out with ease; the man gives him a grin and says, “Thanks.”
“Good album, mate.” Harry sticks his hand out, “I’m Harry.”
“Louis.” He takes his hand and Louis’s handshake is firm and warm, and Harry finds his touch lingering on his palm. “Any recommendations?”
Harry lights up and says, “A ton, if you have time to listen.”
Louis says, “All I have is time.”
-
Louis comes back the next day, and Harry smiles at him, putting his book down. Louis rests his elbows on the counter and talks about the records he bought yesterday. He talks about how the bands Harry recommended were really good and he asks if there are any more.
Harry nods and suggests some more recent bands, Louis makes comments on some of them, saying he saw them at Leeds but never checked them out.
Harry finds himself staring at Louis’s lips, the metal rings in them. He wonders if they’re cold and how they would feel on his skin. Sure, Harry has one of his own, but it feels different. He shakes the thoughts and looks back up at Louis’s eyes, noticing the way they seem darker now than they did two minutes ago.
-
Louis ends up passing by every day when Harry’s working. Harry asked a coworker, and Louis doesn’t come in when Harry doesn’t.
He usually sits on the counter and they chat about their lives. Louis turns out to be twenty four, and he lives by himself in a studio flat on the edge of town. He used to be in a band, but the lifestyle was too stressful for the rest of his band mates, so they split, and now he’s a painter. His first pet was a dog, and he knows how to play a ton of different instruments. Harry doesn’t think he’s ever met someone so interesting. He wants Louis to talk forever.
When Louis asks Harry about himself, Harry mumbles, “I’m not that fascinating.”
“Neither am I, but I told you everything anyways.”
Harry tells him he lives in a small flat, across from a coffee shop. He used to own chinchilla and for his birthday every year, his mother would get him a pair of shoes until she passed away when he was seventeen. When he needs to calm down or clear his head, he always goes to the pier. He gets tattoos to remember, and to forget.
Louis asks, “What about the bracelets on your wrist?”
“Just stuff from friends. Got this one from Leeds a few years ago though,” he points to one and Louis smiles.
“Do you remember who gave it to you?”
Harry frowns, feeling slightly out of place, “No, but I remember having a good time with him.”
Louis abruptly says, “I’m gonna go. I’ll see you later, yeah?”
Harry stands there when he’s gone, trying to make sense of what just happened. That night, he dreams of bright eyes lined with eyeliner and a contagious smile, with loud music in the distance.
-
“So, I was wondering,” Harry’s head shoots up; he hadn’t even noticed Louis was there, “if you’d like to go out with me?” Harry tries to form words, but he just ends up looking at Louis with wide eyes. “If not, that’s okay.”
“No, no. It would be great. Yeah. I’d like to.” He internally smacks himself.
“Awesome.” Louis hands him a piece of paper, “That’s my number.” He bites his lip and picks at his nails, “This whole thing seemed a lot better in my head.”
Harry says, “I like it this way.”
Louis grins, “I’m glad one of us does.” He leans over the counter and Harry doesn’t move back, so he feels Louis’s breaths hit his lips. For a minute, he thinks Louis is going to do something, but he just pulls away and says, “I have to go. I just wanted to stop by for a few minutes. Call me, okay?”
“Yeah, of course.”
When he gets home later that day, he does call Louis. They set up a date to hang out at Harry’s flat (Louis said his flat was a mess, and it was embarrassing to have anyone over). They talk until four in the morning, and Harry only stops the conversation because he has to go to work in five hours and a little sleep would be nice. Louis tells him he’s glad they met, and Harry says, likewise.
-
Louis doesn’t come by the next day and Harry finds himself upset all throughout his shift. He doesn’t bother reading his book, just keeps his head down, only raising it when people want to make purchases or ask him something.
When he’s locking up the store, his phone rings. The screen flashes, Louis, and he instantly feels better. He answers, and Louis voice immediately says, “Sorry I couldn’t come by today.” He says it’s fine, but Louis continues, “You don’t work tomorrow, right? Come by, I’ll make it up to you.”
“You don’t have to-”
“I want to.” He gives Harry his address, and tells him he’ll wait for him outside.
A few minutes later, Harry’s in his car, driving to Louis’s flat. Harry recalls the conversation they had last night, how Louis said his place was a mess. When he gets there, he pushes away the thought when he sees Louis standing there, fidgeting uncomfortably. Louis sees him approaching and his face lights up, Harry waves and he pulls him into a hug. Harry buries his face into the crook of his neck and digs his fingers into Louis’s hair, feeling Louis relax against him.
Louis grabs his hand and leads him up to his flat, he looks embarrassed as he mumbles, “It’s really messy. So, sorry about that.”
He unlocks the door and Harry’s hit with the strong scent of paint and vanilla. There’s paint on the walls and a canvas in the corner. Harry steps closer to it and says, “Wow.” He wants to reach out and touch it, like he could absorb some of the beauty. “It’s amazing.” He looks over at Louis, who’s blushing profusely.
“It’s not finished but-yeah, it’s you.”
“I can tell. Thank you.”
Louis comes up to him and puts his arms on his waist. Louis whispers, “Tell me if I’m out of line,” and kisses him. Harry hooks his hands around Louis’s neck, pressing back. His lips feel oddly familiar, yet refreshingly new. They move a bit, and Louis is warm against him, gently pushing him down onto the couch. Harry runs his hands over Louis’s arms, over his tattoos.
Louis’s snakebites are cold, but they quickly warm up. “Spend the night?”
Harry nods, “Yeah, yeah.” He opens his mouth and Louis runs his tongue over his lip, unbuttoning his work shirt. Harry tilts his head back and makes a noise, letting Louis toss his shirt to the floor. “We’re not-”
Louis kisses the corner of his mouth, “Not if you don’t want to.” Harry looks unsure and Louis says, “Okay. I won’t.”
“It’s not you. It’s just...”
“Hey, it’s alright. I know.” He gives Harry a reassuring smile, and Harry leans up, his lips sliding over Louis’s cheek. Louis murmurs, “You’re amazing,” brushing the tips of his fingers along Harry’s jaw. Harry lifts up Louis’s shirt, throwing it next to his own on the ground. He traces Louis’s chest piece, staring intently.
“I made you something to eat, if you’d like.” His face flushes, “Well, it’s, cookies, but, yeah.”
“I’d love some.”
Later, they sit on Louis’s bed, watching one of the movies from his DVD collection on his laptop. Louis absentmindedly plays with Harry’s curls and Harry toys with the string on Louis’s sweatpants. There’s an empty plate on the nightstand, covered in cookie crumbs.
It’s ten when the movie ends, and Louis sets his computer on the dresser, getting under the covers with Harry. He holds him close, listening to Harry’s even breathing as he dozes off.
-
Harry looks peaceful when he’s asleep. His eyeliner from the day before is smudged since he didn’t wash it off, and his hair falls into his face just right, seemingly accentuating all of his features. Louis wants to pick up a pencil and draw this moment, but he doesn’t want to get up.
Harry’s eyelashes flutter and Louis’s met with vibrant green eyes looking up at him. “Good morning.”
Harry doesn’t say anything, just cups his hand around the back of Louis’s neck and kisses him, a soft press of lips. When he goes to pull away, Louis chases his mouth, and Harry laughs, reaching up and pushing his hair back. Louis offers some coffee, and Harry says that it would be nice.
-
They spend the day on Louis’s sofa, the laptop on the coffee table, playing a movie. Louis doesn’t own a television, he says he doesn’t have much interest in the TV anyway.
Louis has a corkboard with a ton of things on it. Concert tickets, pictures, movie tickets, simple mementos. There’s a red bracelet that catches Harry’s attention. He points to it and asks, “Louis, where did you get that?”
Louis walks over to him and says, “The bracelet? A nice guy with curly hair gave it to me at Leeds a few years ago.”
Harry stares at him. No. Louis gives him a forced smile and Harry breathes out, “It was you.” Louis nods and Harry feels dizzy, “I have to go.”
“Harry-”
“I’ll see you later, Louis.” With that, he’s out the door, rushing to the lift and ignoring Louis’s voice calling him.
-
Harry decides to go to the pier to clear his head. He sits on the edge, water occasionally splashing his feet. He puts his head in his hands. Louis knew this whole time. And he didn’t even tell him.
He remembers that night, he remembers it well. A man-Louis, he now knows-came up to him and they hit it off immediately. Louis was warm, and comforting. Harry had had a bad week, so having this nice guy hitting on him was flattering, and it helped him forget about how shitty the past few days had been.
He hung out with Louis the whole time. Throughout the day, they shared drinks and kisses, not even bothering with knowing each other’s names. Harry liked Louis, he wasn’t bad memories. He was a fresh start. Harry took him home after the festival, and let Louis fuck him in his bed. He came with his fingers in Louis’s hair and Louis’s mouth on his neck, sucking marks into his skin. Louis was gone by morning, only leaving a bracelet on the pillow. It might be silly, but Harry hasn’t taken it off since.
Louis left him with one of the best memories he has.
He sighs and thinks about where he and Louis could go from here. They could get together. Or Harry could ignore him completely and forget about him. But he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to forget about the person he’s spend the last two years thinking about. He’s been alone for so long. Maybe Louis is what he needs.
Harry remembers how Louis looked. Only a couple tattoos, one ring in his lip. His hair looked the same, and so did his eyes. How did Harry not notice?
He hears footsteps and someone sits next to him. He looks over and it’s Louis. “How did you know I’d be here?”
“You told me you always go to the pier.” Harry feels the corners of his lips turn upwards. “Sorry I didn’t tell you. I knew-the moment I saw your bracelet.” Harry lets him thread their fingers together, “I didn’t want to say anything, since I kind of wanted us to have a clean slate.”
“I wish you had told me.”
“I know. I realize my mistake now.” He runs his thumb over Harry’s knuckles, and Harry puts his head on his shoulder. “I don’t know what else to say. I’m just sorry.”
“Don’t say anything.”
Louis buries his nose into Harry’s hair, wrapping his arms around him.
-
A week later, Louis takes him out on a proper date. They go out to a small restaurant and afterwards, Harry goes home with Louis. He borrows Louis’s pajamas and lies in bed with him, listening to Louis’s record player.
He pushes Louis’s shirt up and presses his fingertips to his hip.
“Harry, what-?”
“I remember the scar.” He traces it, “This one.”
Louis looks down and says, “My dog gave it to me when I was little. I’m surprised you remembered.”
“I like remembering little things.” Like the way Louis only seems to own band shirts and striped shirts, and the way he never gets his eyeliner quite right so it’s always smudged, the little freckles on his arms that are barely visible. Harry knows. And he won’t forget. Louis presses his mouth to Harry’s jaw and Harry brings his hand up and lets his fingers glide over Louis’s collarbone.
Louis shuts his eyes and throws a leg over Harry’s thighs, nuzzling his nose to his skin.
-
When Harry’s working, Louis brings him lunch. He hangs around and Harry speaks between bites, “Can you come over to my flat tonight?”
“Sure, babe. I’ll pick you up at closing, okay?”
“Yeah.” He leans over and gives Harry a kiss on the cheek before leaving.
-
Louis looks around and says, “It looks like it used to.”
Harry locks the door and shrugs, “I’m not one for interior decorating.”
Louis steps towards him and Harry fists his hands in his jumper. His eyes ask a question and Harry nods, pulling him to the bed. Louis works on the buttons of his shirt, and Harry remembers his sure hands, the way they know what they’re doing, the way they know Harry’s body like he’s a map that Louis has been studying forever.
He gives Harry a chance to back out, to push him away, but Harry doesn’t, and he shoves his jeans and boxers down, letting Harry kick them off. Harry does the same thing to him, and Louis grips his thighs, settling in between them. Harry breathes heavily, nervous, and Louis whispers encouragements. He slides his hands up and wraps one around Harry’s dick, earning a moan. Harry reaches up and squeezes Louis’s shoulders, bucking up into his fist. Louis shifts and Harry says, “Come up a bit.”
He does, and Harry snakes a hand around both of their cocks, tight friction almost unbearable. Louis curses and ruts up, replacing Harry’s hand with his own. Harry writhes and digs his nails into the bed sheets, Louis’s name falling from his lips.
Louis’s kisses him, and Harry opens up for him, letting him lick his way into his mouth. He arches up against him and gasps when Louis runs his thumb over the head of his cock.
“Tighter.”
Louis complies, feeling Harry leak precome over his cock. “God, Harry.” He squeezes Harry’s hip and presses down, bruising him. Harry throws an arm over his eyes and Louis protests, “Let me see you, babe.”
Harry shakes his head and lets out a shaky breath, “I can’t-”
He nudges Harry’s arm with his head, making him move it, “It’s alright, love.” He flicks his wrist and Harry comes over his hand, face flushing and body trembling. It pushes Louis over the edge, and he hides his face in the crook of his neck. Harry slips his hands up his back and Louis pants against his skin, pressing his lips to the tattoo on his neck and Harry kisses his temple, slumping back against the pillows.
Louis lets out a laugh, “God, we’re messy.” Harry makes a noise and Louis wipes his hand on the bed, earning a grimace. “What?”
“Nothing.”
Louis rolls off of Harry and stretches out, giving him a smile. He pulls him in close and Harry whispers, “Don’t leave me this time.”
“I won’t.”