Nothing Without You || Louis & Harry
Pls, idek what this is. I'm really just avoiding homework with some terribly-written Lourry. I'm succeeding, in the 'terribly-written' department, I mean. Also, all this sad-Lourry, blame Marti bc she's been gone for s o l o n g and I'm sobbing.
Their first kiss was sweet and soft. Quick and passing. But it burnt in the back of both their minds for months. They were still on the X Factor, their last week on the show. It was the night before their performance and Louis and Harry sat across each other on the couch, their toes playing little, secret games with one another. Harry just sat there messing with pages of a magazine and Louis was fiddling with his hat. He looked up at his friend and sat up with a smile, dropping the hat to his side.
“Aren’t you nervous?” Harry stopped short, letting go of the magazine and letting it drop on his lap. He sat up as well, shifting in his place til he was facing his friend, a small smile playing at corner of his lips.
“Not really. I stood on that stage a lot now. You got me through it every time, I’m sure you’ll do the same again.” It wasn’t anything serious. Nothing too big that it would change their relationship, but Louis leaned over and planted a small kiss on his friend’s lips. They parted but a moment later, both smiling stupidly as each other.
They fell into each other’s arms and spent the remainder of their night there.
Their second was one where they’d been anything but sober. It was a party - some party, they just weren’t sure which one it was. Fame struck them faster than a lightning bolt and it was hard to keep track of which party is who’s. They were completely out of it, stumbling into a corner of one of the rooms, arms tangled into each other in a messy fashion. They were giggling relentlessly, falling all over each other. He didn’t know what he was doing, but Louis easily smacked his lips onto Harry’s, like it was just the normal thing to do then. It only took a moment for Harry to catch up and reciprocate the action. Louis’ hands caught in Harry’s curls, Harry pulling Louis in by the waist, it almost felt like they’d be melded into each other if it last any longer.
It was hot and passionate and really messy, and it would’ve been much more than a kiss if Liam hadn’t burst in and shouted “Get a room!... but not this one...another one!” drunkenly at the pair. They separated, grinning sheepishly at one another but not stepping away for a minute longer, lingering in each others’ presence. Their foggy minds were nothing if not completely reluctant to step away from the warmth of each others’ breaths later on.
It took every ounce of self control to keep their hands off of each other for that night, the alcohol flooding their systems doing nothing to help in the matter.
The third was sweet and meaningful. It wasn’t friendly; it wasn’t intoxicated; it was a promise. Of something. Of everything. They were about to perform their last song of the tour, their hearts pounding like lions breaking free of their cages, their ribs fighting the beats one by one. The adrenaline rushed through their veins, their breaths not enough no matter how many they took. It was the worst and greatest feeling. Harry turned to his friend, nudged him in the arm and said, “You were brilliant.” It was a small sentiment, but it meant the world to Louis at that moment. He smiled at him, eyes brighter than the lights that had blinded them on that stage, then walked two steps over and pulled him gently by the waist, kissing him as softly as his urges allowed. Harry undoubtedly returned the favour. It felt like hours before they parted, but really, it was mere seconds. Their eyes both closed for a second afterwards, their noses against each other, refusing to part; refusing to pull away from the comfort and serenity of the moment. They eventually did, though. They performed, and smashed it.
Harry repeated his sentiment after the performance, and Louis threw his arms around him. They stayed there for 5 minutes, heads buried in each others’ necks.
Their fourth was different entirely. The stood in the centre of their flat, their eyes locked on each other, Harry pouring his heart out to his best friend. “...I want more, Lou. I need more.” They spent the last two hours talking about this. Harry was going on about how he wanted more with Louis - how he wanted everything with Louis. Louis just stood there, red-eyed and apologetic. It took every ounce of power within him to not say yes - to Harry, to happiness, to what he wanted, what he longed for so badly.
Harry walked up to him, their faces inches apart now. Louis made no attempt to pull away, and Harry’s hands came to a rest on the small of Louis’ back. “I’m sorry.” Louis voice wasn’t a whisper; it was barely his voice at all. There was hardly anything there but the hot breath he blew onto Harry’s skin as he spoke. Harry pushed forward, kissing him, pulling him back with everything he had. He’d show him why this was right, why this was it. It took two seconds for Louis to give in and kiss him back. They stood there, in the centre of the room, holding onto each other for dear life as they kissed like they should’ve for so, so long.
It was around a minute later that they both pulled back for some air - deep hot breaths on the others’ face with warm smiles to fit the atmosphere.
Then out of the blue, Harry’s curls slipped from Louis’ grip and before he knew it, the younger lad was crashing onto the floor, losing consciousness.
An hour later, Louis sat on the hospital floor, his heart ripped out of his chest, his face wet and burning with the salt in the tears he couldn’t hold back and his skin pale and white as a sheet. Harry Styles was announced dead that night, sudden heart attack. It was in the papers, on the news, everywhere - a constant reminder of what Louis lost before he ever had it.
What the media didn’t know was that that night, the one death really just caused another. Louis Tomlinson was lost as well, that night.