The lights are dimmer (2)
Title: The lights are dimmer
Part: 2/?
Fandom: One Direction
Pairing: Harry/Louis
Disclaimer: One Direction/Harry/Louis do not belong to me.
Summary: Harry is horribly in love and doesn't know what to do about it.
For Emily.
When I see your picture my heart forms a fissure,
I guess that I get this way
Harry woke up to his alarm feeling disorientated. It was still dark because they were flying to Toronto that night, and it took him a minute to remember where he was. Homesickness struck him like a kick in the gut. Remembering just why he had ended up having a fitful nap in the early evening made him even more emotionally exhausted. He heard the soft thuds of his band mates in the hallway so quickly shoved the last of his clothes into his still-open suitcase and, after pulling on a fresh t-shirt, went out to join them.
Louis eyed him curiously from across the room. He’d ditched the onesie now and was wearing one of his numerous pairs of checked pyjama trousers and a blue t-shirt, and though he looked rumpled and tired Harry couldn’t help but think how lovely his lips looked when they were puckered and dry from lack of sleep, and how his red-rimmed eyes looked even bluer than they usually did.
It was only half nine and the others were all still dressed. Zayn gave Harry a half smile and then a little worried frown, wiggling his eyebrows at him until Harry smiled back and mocked a yawn. He didn’t want the others to worry about him but he knew that he couldn’t do much to control how he was feeling either, and right now even smiling took more effort than he’d imagined was possible.
On the plane he curled up by a window seat beside Liam and slept for the entire two hours. Louis was wearing one of his stupid beanies and Harry just wanted to block out how horribly attractive he was for as long as possible. Once they landed he plastered on a smile for the waiting fans and strode out ahead of everyone else. He didn’t even look at Louis as he got into the car last, trailing behind the others. He sat next to Liam again, dropped the grin and waited for the car doors to close.
Harry had every intention of going straight to bed once they reached the hotel, he felt like he could sleep for years, but Louis darted out of the car and grasped his wrist firmly, tugging him to one side in the lobby.
“I’m thirsty,” he said, “come get a drink with me,” as though they couldn’t just order room service upstairs, or that there wasn’t a water bottle in his hand. Harry was about to protest but Louis’ fierce stare combined with a desperate squeeze of his arm made him decide otherwise.
It was almost 1am but there were still a few stragglers at the bar nursing their drinks. Louis headed for a tiny table in one corner, pushed Harry gently down onto a low stool, and went to buy them a couple of pints. He took a gulp of his and Harry watched almost mesmerised as he rolled his tongue over his lips, licking off the froth, leaving his mouth moist and glistening. He was still staring at his lips when Louis leaned in conspiringly.
“Look, are you gunna tell me what exactly is going on?” he said.
“I don’t know what you-”
“Haz, come on, don’t play games. Last night…”
“I’m honestly just really tired,” Harry insisted. It felt like he’d already had this conversation. He looked down at his hands; they were trembling but he wasn’t really sure why. Louis tugged off his beanie and pushed it around the table. His mouth was pressed into a worried line and Harry just couldn’t take the stifling silence any longer. “Night, Louis,” he said, standing up. His chest ached with all the unspoken words he was carrying around with him. He couldn’t remember ever feeling this sad, and at a time when he should be deliriously happy. Louis looked as though he didn’t recognise him, and Harry thought he didn’t really recognise himself either. He downed the last of his beer and wished it was something stronger. Louis caught his limp hand with his outstretched fingers, tugging loosely before releasing him, and Harry strode away stiffly without another word.
In the dark of his room he felt calmer. Maybe it was the stress from all the travelling and temporary homes that was making him so volatile; maybe he was just overthinking everything. He rubbed the tips of his fingertips together slowly, tracing Louis’ touch across his skin, and wondering why he was so angry.
There were footsteps outside his door. He felt the person hesitate, the soft thud of their palm against the door. He waited for the knock but it didn’t come. Louis opened the door silently, his narrow figure slipping through into the room just like it had earlier that night in another room hundreds of miles away. This time he didn’t say anything, he just sloped across to the bed and climbed in beside Harry, his hands searching the plains of the mattress in the dark until they came into contact with Harry’s side. Harry held his breath, pressing his eyes shut and pretending desperately to be asleep, but his flinching skin quivered beneath Louis’ fingers and gave him away. Louis edged up the bed, pressing his chin into the hollow of Harry’s shoulder and trailing his hand across his stomach to come to rest at Harry’s other side.
Harry rolled over, tucking his longer body against Louis’, clasping his hand in his. He felt Louis smile into his hair and with it felt the hurt of the past couple of days fall away like so many tears.
Harry woke up curled up in a ball right at the edge of the bed with Louis spread eagled across the rest of it. He tried to turn and straighten out as discreetly as possible, propping himself up on an elbow. Louis straddled the covers, lying on his front with one leg hooked over the duvet. Morning light streamed in through the curtains and cut his body into slices of dark tan and golden yellow. Harry couldn’t help but smile to himself, his chest fit to bursting with an array of confusing emotions, none of which he was certain of the meaning.
He didn’t really know what last night meant, if anything at all. Louis was his best friend and he realised he must be hurting him as much as he was hurting himself by pushing him away, but Harry knew now that he would always want more than Louis could offer him. In the dark, Louis’ hand cupped in his, their breathing regulated so that their chests rose and fell together, Harry had been happier than he had been in weeks, but Louis had just been comforting his friend over a fight they hadn’t had, about something he didn’t understand. Harry rolled out of bed and padded out to the kitchen.
Harry was sat eating breakfast when Louis finally came out of their room. The others had been clattering around the kitchen making hot drinks and toast and bacon when Harry had first emerged and now they were all sprawled out onto the sofas watching the news. Louis sat down beside Harry and put an arm around him. Harry leaned in, his shoulder slotting in comfortably under Louis’ armpit, his heart in his mouth and his cheeks flushing a little. Liam caught Harry’s eye and smiled at him.
They were on a promotional visit to Canada, and they had three separate interviews and performances to do that day; Harry welcomed the thought of a very full itinerary - the busier he was, the less he would have to think about what he was going to say to Louis. He was reluctantly accepting that he had some explaining to do, but he really wasn’t sure what exactly he was going to explain. “I’m in love with you and I can’t look you in the eye because every time I do it reminds me of that.” No, that wasn’t going to cut it.
They arrived at MuchMusic ready to surprise forty unsuspecting fans. When they sat for the interview, the room settling down to excited murmurs, Louis hooked his elbow over Harry’s knee and squeezed. Harry’s breath caught in his throat; it was the first public contact they had made since the interview in Dallas, and he had become so used to the barren loneliness of his own skin and the space between them that stretched on for eternities in his head that he wasn’t quite ready for the familiar touch, and the familiar ache that followed in his gut.
The rest of the day went by in a blur of fleeting touches and poorly hidden smiles and by the time they got back to their hotel room Harry was so exhausted and confused and happy he was sure his heart was going to implode in his chest.
That night Louis followed Harry closely in the airport, securing a seat next to him, and fell asleep on his shoulder before they had even lifted off the ground. When they arrived in Montreal, he woke up sullen and still sleepy, and Harry desperately wanted to take his hand and guide him quietly through the throngs of people waiting for them, but Louis walked a step behind them all to the car and he very reluctantly stood for photos before retreating. Harry hoped that he was just tired.
This time Louis simply followed Harry into his hotel room, climbing straight into his bed without a word. He drew Harry to him, trailing his fingers on blazing paths across his bare skin. “Missed you,” he mumbled into his curls as he drifted off to sleep.
Part: 2/?
Fandom: One Direction
Pairing: Harry/Louis
Disclaimer: One Direction/Harry/Louis do not belong to me.
Summary: Harry is horribly in love and doesn't know what to do about it.
For Emily.
When I see your picture my heart forms a fissure,
I guess that I get this way
Harry woke up to his alarm feeling disorientated. It was still dark because they were flying to Toronto that night, and it took him a minute to remember where he was. Homesickness struck him like a kick in the gut. Remembering just why he had ended up having a fitful nap in the early evening made him even more emotionally exhausted. He heard the soft thuds of his band mates in the hallway so quickly shoved the last of his clothes into his still-open suitcase and, after pulling on a fresh t-shirt, went out to join them.
Louis eyed him curiously from across the room. He’d ditched the onesie now and was wearing one of his numerous pairs of checked pyjama trousers and a blue t-shirt, and though he looked rumpled and tired Harry couldn’t help but think how lovely his lips looked when they were puckered and dry from lack of sleep, and how his red-rimmed eyes looked even bluer than they usually did.
It was only half nine and the others were all still dressed. Zayn gave Harry a half smile and then a little worried frown, wiggling his eyebrows at him until Harry smiled back and mocked a yawn. He didn’t want the others to worry about him but he knew that he couldn’t do much to control how he was feeling either, and right now even smiling took more effort than he’d imagined was possible.
On the plane he curled up by a window seat beside Liam and slept for the entire two hours. Louis was wearing one of his stupid beanies and Harry just wanted to block out how horribly attractive he was for as long as possible. Once they landed he plastered on a smile for the waiting fans and strode out ahead of everyone else. He didn’t even look at Louis as he got into the car last, trailing behind the others. He sat next to Liam again, dropped the grin and waited for the car doors to close.
Harry had every intention of going straight to bed once they reached the hotel, he felt like he could sleep for years, but Louis darted out of the car and grasped his wrist firmly, tugging him to one side in the lobby.
“I’m thirsty,” he said, “come get a drink with me,” as though they couldn’t just order room service upstairs, or that there wasn’t a water bottle in his hand. Harry was about to protest but Louis’ fierce stare combined with a desperate squeeze of his arm made him decide otherwise.
It was almost 1am but there were still a few stragglers at the bar nursing their drinks. Louis headed for a tiny table in one corner, pushed Harry gently down onto a low stool, and went to buy them a couple of pints. He took a gulp of his and Harry watched almost mesmerised as he rolled his tongue over his lips, licking off the froth, leaving his mouth moist and glistening. He was still staring at his lips when Louis leaned in conspiringly.
“Look, are you gunna tell me what exactly is going on?” he said.
“I don’t know what you-”
“Haz, come on, don’t play games. Last night…”
“I’m honestly just really tired,” Harry insisted. It felt like he’d already had this conversation. He looked down at his hands; they were trembling but he wasn’t really sure why. Louis tugged off his beanie and pushed it around the table. His mouth was pressed into a worried line and Harry just couldn’t take the stifling silence any longer. “Night, Louis,” he said, standing up. His chest ached with all the unspoken words he was carrying around with him. He couldn’t remember ever feeling this sad, and at a time when he should be deliriously happy. Louis looked as though he didn’t recognise him, and Harry thought he didn’t really recognise himself either. He downed the last of his beer and wished it was something stronger. Louis caught his limp hand with his outstretched fingers, tugging loosely before releasing him, and Harry strode away stiffly without another word.
In the dark of his room he felt calmer. Maybe it was the stress from all the travelling and temporary homes that was making him so volatile; maybe he was just overthinking everything. He rubbed the tips of his fingertips together slowly, tracing Louis’ touch across his skin, and wondering why he was so angry.
There were footsteps outside his door. He felt the person hesitate, the soft thud of their palm against the door. He waited for the knock but it didn’t come. Louis opened the door silently, his narrow figure slipping through into the room just like it had earlier that night in another room hundreds of miles away. This time he didn’t say anything, he just sloped across to the bed and climbed in beside Harry, his hands searching the plains of the mattress in the dark until they came into contact with Harry’s side. Harry held his breath, pressing his eyes shut and pretending desperately to be asleep, but his flinching skin quivered beneath Louis’ fingers and gave him away. Louis edged up the bed, pressing his chin into the hollow of Harry’s shoulder and trailing his hand across his stomach to come to rest at Harry’s other side.
Harry rolled over, tucking his longer body against Louis’, clasping his hand in his. He felt Louis smile into his hair and with it felt the hurt of the past couple of days fall away like so many tears.
Harry woke up curled up in a ball right at the edge of the bed with Louis spread eagled across the rest of it. He tried to turn and straighten out as discreetly as possible, propping himself up on an elbow. Louis straddled the covers, lying on his front with one leg hooked over the duvet. Morning light streamed in through the curtains and cut his body into slices of dark tan and golden yellow. Harry couldn’t help but smile to himself, his chest fit to bursting with an array of confusing emotions, none of which he was certain of the meaning.
He didn’t really know what last night meant, if anything at all. Louis was his best friend and he realised he must be hurting him as much as he was hurting himself by pushing him away, but Harry knew now that he would always want more than Louis could offer him. In the dark, Louis’ hand cupped in his, their breathing regulated so that their chests rose and fell together, Harry had been happier than he had been in weeks, but Louis had just been comforting his friend over a fight they hadn’t had, about something he didn’t understand. Harry rolled out of bed and padded out to the kitchen.
Harry was sat eating breakfast when Louis finally came out of their room. The others had been clattering around the kitchen making hot drinks and toast and bacon when Harry had first emerged and now they were all sprawled out onto the sofas watching the news. Louis sat down beside Harry and put an arm around him. Harry leaned in, his shoulder slotting in comfortably under Louis’ armpit, his heart in his mouth and his cheeks flushing a little. Liam caught Harry’s eye and smiled at him.
They were on a promotional visit to Canada, and they had three separate interviews and performances to do that day; Harry welcomed the thought of a very full itinerary - the busier he was, the less he would have to think about what he was going to say to Louis. He was reluctantly accepting that he had some explaining to do, but he really wasn’t sure what exactly he was going to explain. “I’m in love with you and I can’t look you in the eye because every time I do it reminds me of that.” No, that wasn’t going to cut it.
They arrived at MuchMusic ready to surprise forty unsuspecting fans. When they sat for the interview, the room settling down to excited murmurs, Louis hooked his elbow over Harry’s knee and squeezed. Harry’s breath caught in his throat; it was the first public contact they had made since the interview in Dallas, and he had become so used to the barren loneliness of his own skin and the space between them that stretched on for eternities in his head that he wasn’t quite ready for the familiar touch, and the familiar ache that followed in his gut.
The rest of the day went by in a blur of fleeting touches and poorly hidden smiles and by the time they got back to their hotel room Harry was so exhausted and confused and happy he was sure his heart was going to implode in his chest.
That night Louis followed Harry closely in the airport, securing a seat next to him, and fell asleep on his shoulder before they had even lifted off the ground. When they arrived in Montreal, he woke up sullen and still sleepy, and Harry desperately wanted to take his hand and guide him quietly through the throngs of people waiting for them, but Louis walked a step behind them all to the car and he very reluctantly stood for photos before retreating. Harry hoped that he was just tired.
This time Louis simply followed Harry into his hotel room, climbing straight into his bed without a word. He drew Harry to him, trailing his fingers on blazing paths across his bare skin. “Missed you,” he mumbled into his curls as he drifted off to sleep.