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1dkinkmeme
Kink Meme - Round 2
Round 2
IS CLOSED
ALL NEW PROMPTS MUST BE MADE IN
ROUND 3
delicious / flat view
READ THE RULES BEFORE POSTING
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“Listen,” he tells Harry as they stand on the balcony of their apartment.
“What?”
“Just really listen” Louis urges.
Harry makes a non committal noise and kisses the back of Louis neck, urging him to come inside to bed for a lazy Sunday morning. He knows Harry doesn't feel the world like he does; he can't feel it thrumming through his veins, the constant hum of the cities pulse, he doesn't rely on the movement of the wind against his skin, sliding its fingers across like a gentle caress, nudging him in the right direction
Management set a date, and the boys get drunk to celebrate
“Mate,” Niall laughs “Now you get to see how ugly Harry really is” their laughter fills the room, it ripples off his skin alerting him of the tilting of their heads.
Louis knows this isn't true because he knows ever contour of Harry's face, every rise and fall of the bones of his body.
It's never been the ball and chain or the noose around his neck, not when his hand is pressed into the small of Harry's back as he guides him effortlessly through the double doors towards the crowd, no, this is not his shackle. If anything, Louis thinks, its a blessing.
He doesn't think he would be on this stage now if it weren't for the way the beat of world passing by became his lifeline when he was just a toddler. Sound is his everything, and he feels it might be slipping away. The crowd roars to life, chanting their names like a hymn. He anchors himself central stage and the drum beat counts them in and Louis wonders if this will be the last time it feels like its everything.
It's never been the ball and chain or the noose around his neck, not when his hand is pressed into the small of Harry's back as he guides him effortlessly through the double doors towards the crowd, no, this is not his shackle. If anything, Louis thinks, its a blessing.
He doesn't think he would be on this stage now if it weren't for the way the beat of world passing by became his lifeline when he was just a toddler. Sound is his everything, and he feels it might be slipping away. The crowd roars to life, chanting their names like a hymn. He anchors himself central stage and the drum beat counts them in and Louis wonders if this will be the last time it feels like its everything.
-
The morning of the operation comes too soon. Harry holds his hand and kisses him on the cheek.
“Love you, see you in a few hours” he tells Louis.
Louis thinks back to when they first all met, five awkward teenagers at Harry's bungalow,
“Look at the size of that pool,” Niall had shouted, then turned, and stuttered “Oh err, sorry mate, I guess you can't” There was silence that covered them like a blanket, smothering them the boys silently looked at one another, Louis let out a laugh, then shrugged, “Guess I'll have to jump in to tell, right?”
He kicked his loose pants down and the others followed in turn.
Sometimes he thought they worried more about what Louis couldn't do, than Louis himself did. The first few months the boys would stumble over their words and apologise - oh my look at that sign that girls holding, mate look at her tits, fifa knockout tournament boys? - followed by hands over mouths, guilty stares to one another, before they realised.
Everything run smoother, touches and whispers only the five of them understood - hands splayed his shoulder, chins hooked over his shoulder, the flowed in and out of each others space moving in sync, finally aligned, Louis never once faltered.
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Everything hurts, he tries to open his eyes. It feels like sandpaper is stuck beneath them scratching at his eyeballs, he feels tears slip out. The moisture irritates them further, he lets out a frustrated moan, its a double edged sword right now.
“Hey,” he feels Harry's breath hot against his cheek, “They said it will hurt for a bit love, keep them closed”
Louis thinks this sounds like a better idea, and falls back to sleep, Harry's hand clutched in his.
They go home the next day, it hurts less to keep his eyes shut so he does. They tell him it will be a week or so before his his vision starts to clear from the cloudy shadows, so Louis doesn't feel like he is missing out. He doesn't open them all week, it hurts, he tells them, when really he means i'm scared.
Harry fusses over him like a mother hen, do you need anything, does it hurt, hey don't get up I can do it for you.
Louis laughs because its not like its any different from before, he embraces the darkness and clings to it knowing the inevitable is coming. Harry never once tells him to hurry up, open your eyes, he is patient and waits. This is the first silence Louis has ever been grateful for.
The goggles they gave him to protect his eyes slip down in the night on the sixth day, they dig into his nose. He slips them off, and opens his eyes. The room is mostly dark, but the door is ajar and light floods in, he blinks a couple of times. Its not clear like glass, but its more than the shadow puppets he's spent so many years watching. He looks at Harry bathed in soft light.
He feels his chest tighten and burn a little, the awe fills him up from the toes up - it tingles a little, excitement perhaps. He tries to drink in every details - the ones he never knew about. The freckle on the side of Harry's face, the length of his lashes.
Louis resists the urge to run his hands across the jutting edge of Harry's jawbone. He is struggling to process everything, its all so overwhelming and this is just Harry, his Harry, who is a second skins, his home and everything. He can't tear his eyes from Harry's face, but in a way he wants to, as the burn turns to bile and he starts to feel a bit queasy. He slips from the bed, pads to the bathroom, his eyes trained to the ground.
He doesn't turn on the bathroom light, just slides down besides the toilet, head resting on his knees, arms wrapped tight around himself like a shield. His stomach stops flipping like an acrobat and finally settles as he breathes deeply in and out. Its just so much, its so overwhelming, he feels like he is being swallowed whole. Louis realises for the first time, he didn't hear harrys heartbeat throbbing in his ears.
He hears birds chirping, morning soon, he realises. He finally stands on shaky legs, grasping the sink for support. As he raises his head his eyes catch the mirror. In the darkness, he can just faintly see the shape of his own face, much like every other day. He rests his hand on the light switch for a moment before pulling away.
He pads back to bed, slips the googles back on and tucks his head under Harry's chin. His skin is tingling all over, anticipation or maybe fear of the unknown, of change, and he wonders how he could ever explain this to Harry, sweet Harry, who is so excited to finally share this side of the world with Louis, how he could tell him he's not sure if he wants all of this, that he is scared he will loose a part of himself, it already feels like someone has been chip, chip, chipping away at it. Its clawing away at him, the guilt even, anyone else in this situation, would be feeling like they were given a new lease of life but for some reason, and Louis can't even explain it, he feels like someones slipped the rug from right, no warning, and now he has been left feeling unsteady on his feet, teetering like a baby foal.
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They don't leave the flat (except when Harry pops out to buy eggs to make sunday morning lazy pancakes, and bring them to Louis in bed, licking the drop of chocolate sauce from his bottom lip when he's finished), they lay spooned on the couch with Radio 1 playing softly in the background, Harry's hands wandering the angles of Louis hips.
On Monday, he finally asks, “Are,” he trails off, then stutters out, “Are they healing okay? Have you, tried opening them again, see, like, how they feel Lou”
Louis feels bad instantly, from waver in Harry's voice he can Harry has probably rehearsed one hundred different ways to ask this, whilst lying with he face buried in the back of Louis neck on the couch. Louis want to open his mouth, and say something, anything - or really everything - but he's scared once he starts he won't be able to stop, that the words will come out all jumbled - and it doens't make sense in his own mind, how is he meant to explain to Harry that this feels wrong, that his rhythm is off - not just off its fading, that the lump in his throat has been getting bigger every passing day, that the world outside their front door - well Louis still pretending it doesn't exist because he doesn't know if he can cope, and that still none of this would sound coherent if it came out of his mouth so it doesn't
He burries his head in the arm of the couch, and count the rhythm of Harry's chest against his back.
Tuesday night, Louis finally does it.
They're lying in bed, his head is pillowed on Harry's chest and he's been staring watching his fingers brush over Harry's nipples one by one. He used to do this all the time - if he was nervous - counting, one, two three hour, back-to-the starts, but he's never seen it.
“Your skin” he says slowly, muffled slightly as his lips ghost against Harry's body, he picks the next words carefully “Looks beautiful”
He feels Harry tense beneath him, Louis continues to rub gentle circles around one nipple, and waits.
Harry shuffles beneath him, hooks a finger under Louis chin and tilts his head up. Harry looks at him, curious - waiting for an explanation - theres a slight furrow to his eyebrow which could mean something, but his smile says otherwise. But Louis doesn't notice any of this, he is just transfixed by Harry stare (someone might compare the colour to the ocean, but who is Louis to say, Harry has blue eyes, he's been told, but what does that really mean to him, colour seems irrelevant, but its the deepness that pulls him in - the way they just pierce any shell he's put up until his naked, bare, raw and Harry is just there)
“How long have you....?” Harrys asks gently, trailing off so its not even a question, like he isn't pushing for an answer.
“Last Thursday” he chokes out, why, he wonders, is he nervous,
Harry kisses the tip of his nose, then each cheek, then finally catches Louis lips. The questions slip into his mouth as their tongues collide - why didn't you tell me, why are you waiting but most importantly I love you & I'll be here when you're ready.
Louis wonders how he struck so lucky.
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He is slow and thorough, but avoid the windows like they hold the plague.
“It looks, um, different” says Louis when Harry pops breakfast down in front of him. Louis spends the next five minutes spreading chocolate sauce round his plate, and never finishes the pancakes.
They spend the afternoon entangled in each others arms on the sofa, Louis's eyes never roaming far from Harry as he tries to drink in the shade of every patch of skin.
After dinner Harry suggests a DVD and Louis declines, he counts the freckles on Harry's shoulder instead.
Harry doesn't press, he doesn't ask for any more than Louis offers to give. Louis is grateful for this, but when he catches Harrys downward stare, his heartstrings pull a little. Relationships are about give and take, and right now he feels like he is grabbing onto every packet in the candy store without remembering to pay.
“Hey” he whispers, his arms sliding round Harry's slim waist, pressing him up against the breakfast bar, “How about we go get some take out later, and pick up a dvd?”
He feels Harry tense beneath him, then turn round grinning, and by the way his eyes light up, Louis knows this will all be worth it.
“What do you fancy?” he asks.
“Lets get Chinese”
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