you're not patient and you're never close enough.
"You aren't allowed- you can't. You can't kiss me like that and walk away"
Harry's voice broke, shattered, on that last word. He could barely hear Louis's footsteps falter as the blood roared in his eardrums.
"Louis" He tried again, softer- gentle.
Louis spun on heel, turning to meet Harry's gaze with blazing blue hues, angry as a ocean storm. Harry could feel himself be attacked, bruised as Louis's whole frame shook (with anger?) as green collided with cerulean and Louis strode forward, never hesitating and suddenly the empty arena didn't feel big enough. He felt claustrophobic, all he could see, feel, hear- everything was Louis. Harry's breathing turned erratic and his fingers shook, hidden in the sleeves of his sweaty blazer. He took his time, analyzing every inch of Louis's lithe frame. He couldn't help but admire the way Louis's clean, pristine button down hugged his shoulders, tapered down those biceps he gazed at longingly between signings, when they were at their apartment. A thought nagged him, whispering in the back of his head. Did Louis admire him secretly? Did he feel the same torrent of emotions that cascaded his mind, blurred the boundaries of an already enthusiastic friendship? Harry was broken from his reverie as Louis's soft, pleading voice hit him with a sonorous boom.
"Harry...Harry, I care about you. God damn it Harry, I fucking love you. You think I don't care? It hurts, it fucking stings to see you draped over Caroline, or charming the pants off the pretty interviewer in Chicago. Or- or dancing with one of those pretty blond things in Sweden. Harry, I love showering after you in the mornings because you leave smiley faces on the foggy glass. I love coming home from Doncaster to see you waiting with hot tea and my favourite meal. I even enjoy spending nights and nights in the tour bus because you always nudge my feet with your freezing cold ones when Niall says something ridiculous or Liam is berating Zayn for smoking- again. It's all those little things that have added up and made a home in my heart Harry. So don't...Don't- Harry, please" Louis's voice tailed off, fading into his mind as he ran one trembling tanned hand through his caramel coloured locks, causing the ends to flick up, not unlike a cockatoo.
Harry couldn't breathe. He couldn't feel anything besides Louis's hot breath, inches from his face. His eyes, caught on Louis's desperate expression, wore roving hungrily, trying to find a shred of doubt in those blue blue eyes and he couldn't. He could only see unwavering sincerity. If this was true...then why? Why was Louis...
"Why then? Why did you walk away? Louis, why are you destroying something that hasn't even begun?"
"Don't you see Harry, Management is already tearing away our friendship. I can't, I can't lose you because we want more. I'm with Eleanor, and maybe, maybe in another life time- if things were different, we could work. But we can't now, not here. Not with the band depending on us, not without breaking fans hearts-"
"MAYBE I DON'T GIVE A SHIT ABOUT ALL OF THAT. MAYBE I AM WILLING TO PAY THE FUCKING CONSEQUENCES BECAUSE I CARE MORE ABOUT YOU THEN FAME AND PRESTIGE AND REPUTATION"
Harry's voice was echoing in the 02 Arena, loud and ragged as his eyes turned into emerald lasers that were boring into Louis's soul more than a shrink ever could. Louis thought that Harry had never looked so beautiful, passionate and caught up his anger, hair matted to his forehead, blazer slipping off one shoulder. Louis's resolve faltered, shunting away the image of Eleanor, soft and pliant under his hands. Sweet unsuspecting Eleanor who's hand was small in his own. New images rolled into him, forceful to the point of nausea. Harry, hot and sweaty underneath him, hands raking down his back- through his hair. Harry, soft lips at his neck, tongue rolling down his jaw. Louis' eyes must have given something away as Harry strode one step closer, his hands- calloused and firm, cupping his face.
"Louis, I know you see us, I know you see a future. I know that you have hope for us. So give into it, give into us. Louis, please" Harry was pleading by now, searching for that love that he had seen, just for a moment in those experessive eyes. Louis's hands reached forward and for one wretched moment, he wondered if he was going to rip them apart, storm away and go back to Eleanor. With a passionate and resigned groan, Louis's hands caught onto Harry's fore-arms and with an emotion that Harry couldn't place, Louis brought them together, lips slanting over his with a ferocity that he had never seen but craved. Harry's hands snaked around the older male's waist, their chests colliding as Louis's tongue danced over Harry's lips, parting them with ease and wrapping around his tongue. Harry sighed with victory, his hand eagerly raking through Louis's hair and yanking his head closer, his nose brushing Louis's. Gasping for air, they pulled apart and as Louis pushed back some of the sweaty strands clinging to Harry's temple, Harry knew that it was going to be okay. Eventually.
From the sidelines, behind the stage, Liam looked on fondly, a paternal expression etching its way onto his face as Louis held Harry close, delicately as if he was made of glass. He had never been so thankful that Harry was stubborn and determined. He had never been so grateful that Louis could never control his emotions under duress.