Archive of Our Own

            Harry walks through the sea of cubicles, sighing to himself as he gets lost with everyone else. He wanted to become a journalist to have a voice in the world, but his voice is overshadowed by the hundreds off his coworkers on top of the hundreds of other journalist outlets. He finally finds his cubicle, it’s only his second week and there are so many that it’s hard to figure out where his is.

He sits in his chair that threatens to snap in half if he leans back too far, and boots up his computer while setting down his mug of black coffee. He cracks his knuckles while waiting for his computer to load up, wondering why such a prestigious company has such terrible computers. It finally loads up, and he continues doing his research on the current article he’s working on. He’s currently trying to write an article about the necessity of gun control in America, and is currently researching the Founders original meaning behind the second amendment.

It's only been two weeks, so he shouldn’t be so disappointed that none of his articles have been approved for publishing, but he is. He was the best in his graduating class, his professors all promised him great things, and he went through two additional years to receive his master’s degree. He thought that degree would earn him more respect, but all it earned him was a fifty cents an hour pay increase. He also had a brief internship for Vogue, but considering he was a political journalist and not a fashion journalist it turned out to be useless. At the time, he needed any internship he could get his hands on.

“Harry, my office,” His boss, John, says while walking past his cubicle. Harry groans when he’s far enough away to not hear him, saving the article he’s working on, before trudging towards the direction of the office.

“Yes, sir?” Harry asks, closing the door behind him and sitting the chair across John’s desk.

“I want you to go into the city for fashion week. There’s a new model, he’s going to be the next big thing and I need you to get an exclusive with him,” John says quickly, not looking up from an email he’s aggressively writing.

“I don’t write fashion articles,” Harry explains, as politely as he can.

“You interned for Vogue, no? Anyway, his name is Louis Tomlinson. You’re young and cute, he might like you enough to talk to you,” John continues to explain, typing away on his keyboard.

“Sir, I really don’t do fashion journalism,” Harry insists.

“Journalism is journalism, you write what’s given to you,” John says a bit harshly, turning away from his email to shuffle through his drawers. He pulls out a credit card, tossing it across the desk to Harry. “There’s a company card, pay for your train ticket, meals, hotel rooms, and other necessities.” Harry picks up the card, playing with it in his hands. “Oh, and you leave tomorrow morning.”

Harry is decked out in a dark gray suit, white button down, and black tie. His hair is styled back neatly. A pocket square and a pen occupies his suit jacket pocket, and a small notepad, recorder, and his phone occupy his trouser pockets. He glides up the steps leading to the art gallery, the venue of the pre-show party.

He walks in, immediately overwhelmed with all the rich looking people with shiny clothes and tight faces. There’s platters of food being carried by people wearing all white, and he snags a glass of champagne off a tray. He walks as confidently as he can, admiring the art work on the walls while also keeping an eye out for the person who might be Louis Tomlinson.

His wandering lasts about thirty minutes, until he finds himself in a side room, alone, with a lot of experimental art. Some of the colors are bright and lively, while others are dull and saddening. Harry takes them all in, full glass of champagne still in hand when a petite boy flutters in.

“Oi, Jean Metzinger, one of my favorites. He’s from France too,” The small boy comments on the lively work Harry’s admiring, in a beautiful and soft French accent. Harry turns to him, smiling and taking in his appearance.

He has soft, fluffy light brunette hair. Perfectly arched eyebrows, long eyelashes, and subtle glitter painted across his eyelids. His sugar blue eyes pop, his eyes wide and sweet. His cheeks are subtly rosy, cheekbones very apparent. His lips are glossy, a bit pouty. His skin is flawless, with only a few freckles to the left of his lips. His nose is small and cute, jawline sharp. He’s wearing a pink slip dress with thin straps, and it compliments his complexion wonderfully. He’s slender, but with curves that were seemingly skillfully sculpted.

“I love the color palette he chose for this piece, don’t you?” He asks, in his wonderful French accent that makes Harry despise his own plain American accent.

“Ah, yes. I’m not exactly an art expert, I was simply looking since parties aren’t really my thing,” Harry explains, glancing between the art and the boy. He decides the boy is far prettier with his soft expression.

“If things had not worked out for me, I was planning on majoring in art history,” the boy explains, looking at the painting with a soft expression, admiring it while Harry admires him.

“I must say, you’re the most beautiful thing in this museum,” Harry finally works up the courage to say, feeling like a cliché douche bag and internally curses himself. But, Louis smiles and blushes, covering his mouth with his hand as he giggles.

“Merci, merci,” the boy responds sweetly, smiling at the man. “And you are very handsome… what’s your name?” The boy asks, a sparkle in his smile.

“Harry, Harry Styles. And yours?” Harry asks, and Louis opens his mouth, but the door opens loudly to disrupt their intimacy

“Oi! You found me!” The boy exclaims, a burly security guard walking in and frowning at the boy.

“Louis, you should already be at the venue getting your makeup done,” The man says, walking over and grabbing the boys arm.

“Un moment, un moment,” The boy, who now has a name, Louis pleads the man. And it hits Harry that this is Louis, the Louis Tomlinson. “Are you coming to the show?” Louis asks, snapping Harry at of his star struck daze.

“Yes, yes,” Harry says quickly.

“Preston, remember him. I want you to bring him backstage after, I would like to finish our conversation that you interrupted,” Louis insists, as he’s being pulled towards the door by the large man, blowing a kiss in Harry’s direction before fluttering out just like he came in.

Preston, Louis’ bodyguard, finds Harry before the show and leads him up to front row seats, when he was originally standing in the back. It’s overwhelming, and then all the models begin to pour out one by one. There’s polite claps as the tall, beautiful women pass by. Then, Louis comes out, and the crowd gets excited. He’s wearing a black body suit with red embroidered roses, and a long, ballroom style black transparent skirt. He’s wearing tall platform black shoes, and he has red and black feathers in his hair. The crowd claps louder when he gets to the end, his expression serious as he rests his hand for his hip, twirling and looking over his shoulder before walking back up the runway. Harry’s in awe, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone so beautiful and perfect.

Louis’ second outfit is a tight-fitting dark blue body suit, covered in glitter, and he really looks like the universe as he walks down. As he gets closer, Harry notices little stars clipped into his fringe instead of the feathers last time. The crowd is just as excited to see him the second time. In this outfit, Harry can finally see his curves. His thighs are still slender, but with wide hips, a plump bum, and a tiny waist. At the end of the runway, he winks this time before heading back, walking past Harry without his expression changing.

Then, Louis closes the stage in a long white, slightly transparent dress where Harry can slightly see the plain white lingerie Louis is wearing underneath. The dress is scattered with pastel flowers. Everyone stands when he walks out, clapping, Harry stands too and claps loudly for Louis who is smiling as he walks down skillfully. He gives a twirl, before heading back down, allowing himself to glance down at Harry as he passes, a smile still on his face.

Within a few minutes of the show ending, Preston is leading him backstage, and Louis is at quietly in front of a mirror, pulling pins out of his hair while the rest of the models are broken into groups celebrating. Harry walks over, smiling awkwardly.

“Bonjour, enjoy the show?” Louis asks, smiling with his legs crossed in his chair with just a robe on. Harry nods, smiling. Louis sticks his hand out. Harry is a bit confused at first, but then he grabs Louis’ hand carefully and kisses it once. Louis smiles happy, turning back to the mirror and wiping off the glossy glitter from his eyelids and lips with a tissue.

“Wh-what inspired you to be a model?” Harry asks, trying to casual incorporate an interview while also getting to know this beautiful boy more. Louis sighs, sinking into his chair, the robe riding up to expose more of Louis’ soft inner thigh.

“Ennuyeuse,” Louis complains, his French accent sounding even more beautiful when he speaks the language. “There’s a, eh, after party. Will you accompany me?” Louis asks, completely brushing off the question Harry asked.

“Of course,” Harry says, still a bit confused at the boy’s infatuation with him, but Harry is infatuated with the boy too.

Someone, maybe Louis’ assistant, walks over with an outfit for Louis, Louis kissing their cheek and dropping his robe so he’s only in white panties. Harry coughs, turning his head as Louis slips on a diamond encrusted dress that scoops down to show off his collarbones. Harry turns back when the boy is clothed, slipping on some heels with fluff across the toes.

“You look beautiful,” Harry compliments, Louis shrugging and his cheeks turning a light shade of pink. The rest of the models have slowly started filtering out, most likely heading to the same after party Louis invited Harry to.

They sneak out the backdoor, Louis insisting he wants to avoid the paparazzi’s. And when they enter the venue, Louis grabs Preston’s hat and covers Harry’s face with it and they walk in quickly. The lights really are blinding, and Harry’s vision is blurred and covered in spots as he tries his best to follow Louis through the crowd. After a few heavy blinks, his vision clears and he sees more of the beautiful models walking around and various celebrities.

Louis looks rather uncomfortable, grabbing onto Harry’s arm as people come up to him, speaking loudly. Harry feels out of place at well, in this venue and because he has a beautiful boy he just met clinging onto his arm and it’s all a bit overwhelming. More people talk to Louis, trying to grab him and get closer to him, but Louis shrugs them off as gracefully as he can. He looks up at Harry, brows furrowed.

“Leave him be,” Harry states, pushing a particularly grabby journalist away, and Louis looks a bit pleased.

Eventually the pair finds a corner with a nice couch to sit at, all the way in the back of the club where not many people drift off to, although the music was still loud. Louis leans in to whisper into Harry’s ear, smiling, “I grew up in a very small village in France, I was so shy nobody payed attention to me. But, when I moved to Paris, people stopped me on the streets and complimented my beauty. I loved the attention… then one day one of those people who stopped me worked in a model agency. And that’s what inspired me to become a model,” Louis speaks into Harry’s ears, his lips brushing against Harry’s ear before pulling away. His breath is sweet and fresh, cool against Harry’s skin. Harry smiles, locking eyes with Louis when he pulls away.

“And what do you do?” Louis asks, smiling sweetly. Harry looks down nervously, sighing.

“I, uh, I’m a journalist,” Harry says, and Louis’ smile falters ever so slightly.

“Ah, I see,” Louis says softly, pushing a piece of fringe out of his eyes, looking up through his eyelashes.

“My boss… my boss made me come. I’m a political journalist, I write about social issues not fashion. I wouldn’t publish any of this without your permission, all of this is off the record,” Harry says sincerely, looking worriedly over at Louis.

“Calm your worries,” Louis say sweetly, brushing his hand against Harry’s strong cheek and jaw. “You can publish the story I just told you, give your boss something so maybe he’ll leave you be,” Louis replies, letting his hand fall to grab Harry’s big one.

“You know, you are quite the mystery in the fashion industry. You’re on your way to being the biggest thing and nobody can get an exclusive with you,” Harry informs the boy, Louis giggling.

“My life is my life, only people who are close to me get the exclusives,” Louis says, sending a wink Harry’s way and Harry can’t help but hope that one day he’ll be one of those close people who get to share Louis’ life with him. “I shared my story, what’s yours?” Louis asks, scooting closer to Harry.

“I uh, went to university for six years to get my masters in journalism. And, now I work in a small cubicle for the New York Times, trying to get one of my articles published,” Harry says simply, sighing and shrugging.

“I want to read your articles,” Louis states. “You write about politics, hm? Tell me more,” Louis requests. Louis’ eyes dazzle in fascination as Harry explains the current article he’s working on, and the past ones he tried to publish such as the importance of LGBT+ representation in television and the ongoing investigation against Trump. “Tés intelligent,” Louis compliments, looking up at Harry in awe, lips parted ever so slightly. “So are you… homosexuel?” Louis asks in his beautiful French accent that makes Harry swoon.

“Ah, yes, gay,” Harry says, chuckling at Louis’ question.

“Queer,” Louis says, pointing to himself. “But, je préfère les hommes comme vous,” Louis says, and Harry doesn’t understand but he picks up on Louis’ shy expression and raises his eyebrows. Louis purses his lips, looking away. Harry watches him, glancing over the boy and looking down at his thighs exposed from the short dress. “Coquin,” Louis teases, when he catches Harry staring at his thigh.

“I wish I paid attention in French back in high school,” Harry complains, looking over at Louis.

“Naughty,” Louis translates, laughing at Harry shifting his hips and letting his dress slide a bit higher up. “Let’s go somewhere else,” Louis states, waving down Preston who was only just out of ear shot. Louis grabs Preston’s hat again to cover Harry’s face, Harry chuckling and squinting his eyes this time to avoid the light. People yell at Louis, “Who are you wearing?” “Who’s your date?” “Did you enjoy walking in the show?”. Louis keeps walking, quickly sliding into the car when Preston opens the door for them.

Louis opens up a small fridge that’s casually in the back of the car, grabbing a small container of raspberries and popping it open. He tosses a few in his mouth, then reaches out to hold one in front of Harry’s lips. Harry opens his mouth, chuckling as Louis sets it nicely in his mouth. The berry is sweet, how Harry imagines Louis to taste. Louis continues the process, eating a couple and then giving one to Harry who happily lets the cute boy feed him. Then they’re all gone, and Louis sighs happily, looking out the window at the New York lights.

“Je manque à ma ville des lumières,” Louis sighs, as he looks out the window, looking back at Harry. “I miss my city of lights,” Louis translates, licking his lips and Harry bets they taste like berries.

“I’ve never been, but I’d love to go,” Harry says, reaching out to hold Louis’ arm to offer some sort of comfort.

“You must go, it’s beautiful, a perfect place,” Louis says softly. “This place is so loud and mean, people over there care,” Louis explains further. “There aren’t many nice people like you here,” Louis adds on, shutting his eyes for a brief moment and the car comes to a stop. The door opens, Preston with his stone face there, helping Louis out. Harry follows blindly, confused to find them outside a tall apartment complex.

“You live here?” Harry asks, and Louis nods, saying his goodnights to Preston before heading inside. He pauses to take his shoes off, sighing relief as Harry follows Louis into the hotel room.

“Vous n'êtes pas chanceux, n'obtiens aucune idée,” Louis says, pushing Harry’s shoulder teasingly and pressing his floor button as the doors shut. “Nothing is going to happen,” Louis clarifies, his lips pretty and pursed. “Where are you staying? Do you live near here?” Louis questions as the elevator slowly works its way up.

“I’m staying in a hotel, I live on the outskirts of the city” Harry explains, the elevator slowing to a stop. Louis steps out, his feet bare and heels in hand. He grabs a key from a nearby plant pot, unlocking his door and stepping inside with Harry close behind.

It’s a nice apartment, bigger than Harry’s but still cozy and very minimalist. There’s dark grey wood floors, and off-white walls. In the lounge off to the left, there are a few house plants gathered in a corner, a plain white couch, and a wall covered in shelves filled with books. No television in sight, but there is a record played with a basket filled with vinyl’s next to it. Off to the right is the kitchen, black granite counter tops, bowls filled with fruits, shelves with fresh herbs, mason jars filled with spices and grains. There’s a breakfast bar, but no dining table.

Louis flicks the light on, shuffling in and flopping down on the couch with a dramatic sigh. “I like your place,” Harry says, toeing his shoes off at the door, everything looks so clean and he doesn’t want to risk trailing dirt in.

“I prefer my flat in Paris,” Louis says, rubbing his tired looking eyes as Harry walks over to sit next to Louis. Louis’ sitting with his feet tucked under his bum, his dress sliding up enough to expose a bit of his panties, but he doesn’t seem to notice or care.

“God, I’d love to go to Paris,” Harry says with a thoughtful sigh.

“Maybe I’ll take you some day,” Louis says with a wink, giggling to himself. He jumps off the couch, walking over to the kitchen to put a kettle on the stove, Harry looking at him over the back of the couch.

The boy twirls under the fluorescent kitchen light, his movements light and sweet. Harry finds himself drifting over closer to him, and Louis grabs his hands, twirling around with them. “We need music!” Louis exclaims, skipping past to shuffle through his vinyl’s, finding one that pleases him and setting it up. There’s a record scratch, then piano notes and a soothing voice signing in French.

Louis glides back over, resting one hand on Harry’s chest and the other on Louis’ shoulder. “Now you put your hands on my waist,” Louis instructs, and Harry places his big hands on the boy’s slender waist.

Louis takes a step back, and Harry follows, then a step to the left, and Harry follows. And soon they’re stepping in a square in sync, then they’re gliding across the hall, Harry grinning. He’s never had a night so magical, a night so perfectly right out of a movie as he glides across the smooth wooden floors with the most beautiful boy in his arms. Louis rests his head on Harry’s chest, humming along to the music and allowing Harry to take the lead now that he has the hang of it. It isn’t until the kettle starts whistling that they break apart, Louis gliding back into the kitchen and pouring two mugs of hot tea.

“How do you take your tea?” Louis asks, slicing a slender piece of lemon and dropping it into his.

“I… I don’t know. I normally drink coffee,” Harry confesses.

“Americans,” Louis says with a scoff, rolling his eyes and slicing off another piece of lemon for Harry’s tea before handing it to him.

Louis settles back into the corner of the couch with a mug in hand, and the record still playing and filling the apartment with a sweet sound. Harry sits on the cushion next to the boy, but not too close.

“So, you enjoy wearing dresses and such?” Harry asks, trying to learn more about this interesting boy. Louis hums, nodding.

“I was made fun of for being feminine in my home village. Then I go to Paris and they love me,” Louis says, smiling. “Now it doesn’t matter if people don’t like me, enough people already do,” Louis continues, taking a sip of tea.

“How old were you when you started modelling?” Harry asks, taking a sip of his tea and it burns his tongue.

“Fifteen, I’m eighteen now,” Louis says, anticipating Harrys next question. “And how old are you?”

“Twenty-four,” Harry replies,

“Oi,” Louis replies, wiggling his eye brows and giggling to himself. Harry chuckles, amused at the boy who does seem far beyond his years.

Louis takes a slow sip of his tea, closing his eyes as some steam rises up against his face. Louis then mumbles something in French, walking down the hall and glancing back at Harry as if to tell him to follow him. So, Harry does, and finds himself in Louis’ bedroom. There’s a window, the moonlight pouring in and small succulent plants are set up on the window sill. Louis doesn’t have a bedframe, just two mattresses stacked on top of one another in the corner. There’s books everywhere, piles of books in every corner, there’s rack of clothes as well along the walls.

Louis sits down on his mattresses, Harry coming over to sit next to him. Louis lays down, opting to rest his head on Harry’s lap instead of the pillows. Harry reaches down to pull the covers over the boy, and stroke his cheek tenderly. Harry lays back himself, Louis’ head still on his lap, and Harry grabs the pillows to support his own head as he lays across the width of the bed with his feet dangling off the edge. Sirens keep passing by outside, the city that never sleeps keeping them awake as well.

“I hate this city,” Louis mumbles, Harry’s hands now running through the boy’s hair. “It’s miserable,” Louis adds on, letting his eyes flutter closed.

Harry watches the small boy with slightly caved in cheeks and long eyelashes and his own eyes grow heavy, and he slowly drifts off himself to the sound of the bustling city.

Harry wakes up curled up at the head of the bed alone, and finds a pile of clothes with a note that reads For Harry in beautiful calligraphy. He lifts them up, finding a pair of cozy sweatpants and a nice t shirt. He pulls his suit off that is now wrinkled, and puts the clothes on instead that fit him perfectly. He then searches for Louis, who he finds in pink satin pajama bottoms and no shirt. Harry can really see Louis’ slender waist then, and his flat stomach and smooth sides. Louis smiles when he sees Harry, eyes crinkling.

“Bonjour, I’m making crepes,” Louis says, smiling as he picks up the pan that Harry now sees on the stove, and plates the crepes on two plates. Louis places some chopped strawberries on top, a drizzle of syrup, and a bit of coconut milk based whipped crème.

They sit at the breakfast bar, eating their breakfast and drinking some freshly squeezed orange juice Louis prepped this morning. “These are amazing, you’re a wonderful cook,” Harry compliments, taking another big bite.

“You give out too many compliments,” Louis notes, as if he’s thinking out loud and Harry gives him a confused glance, he really is quite a strange boy. “I have a photoshoot today; will you accompany me?” Louis asks, fluttering his eyelashes as he looks over at Harry. And how could Harry say no?

            So, Louis gets changed into gingham style pants and a flowy black top that he ties up in the front to show off his tummy. Then, Louis’ chauffer takes them to Harry’s hotel, where he runs up to change into black slacks and a white button up that he doesn’t button up all the way to show a bit of chest. “Oo la la,” Louis purrs when Harry returns, Louis reaching out and resting his hand on Harry’s bare chest over the few chest hairs. Harry laughs, grabbing Louis’ small hand and holding it in his own. Louis doesn’t pull away, he lets Harry hold onto his hand for the short car ride.

            They link arms on the way in, lots of important people at the doorway to greet Louis. They all take his hand and kiss it, or kiss both of his cheeks, Louis simply nodding or offering a sweet smile. “Bonjour, bonjour,” Louis says nicely. “Thank you for having me,” Louis says as they’re being led to Louis’ dressing room.

            Before Louis is even able to take a seat, the photographer walks in, explaining the vision of the shoot. “You’re going to be nude, with strategically placed flowers, laying on a bed of flowers as well. You are a flower goddess, Louis, okay?” The man explains, speaking in an inspired tone.

Louis nods as he’s being handed a robe and people come in to start his makeup. Harry watches from the back, watching as people undress Louis and help him into the robe, Harry makes sure to not look below Louis’ hips though. People are rubbing Louis’ arms and legs with lotion, someone is brushing his hair, and someone else is contouring his already prominent cheekbones. They brush gel through his brows, put on subtle falsies, and red lip gloss. Louis stays as still as possible as they work, glancing over at Harry through the mirror in front of him.

            When Louis’ all dolled up, they head over to the set, a bed of roses already set up on the floor. Louis drops his robe shamelessly, laying down on the flowers where the photographer instructs, and someone quickly rushes over to position some roses over Louis’ crotch. Harry watches in awe, the photographer standing on a ladder to get a shot from above. Bright lights are positioned, pointing at Louis and the flowers.

            Louis changes his facial expression and pose depending on the energy the photographer gives him. “Give me shy.” Louis crosses his legs, knees slightly bent, wrapping his arms around his chest. His lips are a bit pouty, closing his eyes for a few shots before opening them and looking through his lashes. “Give me bold.” Louis crosses his wrists above his head, spreading his fingers as if to mimic the flowers around him. His lips are slightly parted, eyes big and glassy. “Give me sex,” The photographer hisses. Louis has a small smirk before bending his legs and spreading his thighs, the flowers still covering him. He lets his arms relax above his head, tilting his head back against the flowers, opening his mouth and letting out a genuine moan that makes Harry’s knees weak. “Brilliant, brilliant! God, I’m in love with you,” the man exclaims gleefully.

            “Should I roll over for some shots?” Louis asks, someone coming over to assist him and help him carefully roll over on the bed of flowers. His bare bum is exposed, the photographer taking some shots from above before climbing down.

            “Get the white background!” The photographer yells, someone immediately rolling over a white background to the behind side of Louis for some side shots. The curve of Louis’ bum is beautiful, and Louis looks lustfully into the camera. Louis rests his cheek down on the flowers, staring softly but with intensity. The photographer praises him, somebody rushes over to help him up and put his robe on after removing the flowers. Louis smiles humbly, waiting for his next set of directions.

            Makeup artists come over to make Louis’ contour a bit more harsh, and adding a bronzer to the crease of his eyes to add more depth. He stands there calmly as they work, and the photographer explains the next set of photos as a beautiful bath tub filled with red opaque liquid is being carried in. “I need you to give me fierce, sexiness, but also fear and death.” Louis nods, messing with the sleeves of his robe as he listens.

            Louis drifts over to Harry while they set up the lights and everything, smiling softly. “I’m sorry if it is a bit boring for you,” Louis says softly, crossing his arms loosely.

            “No, no, it’s fun. I enjoy watching you, it’s all very interesting,” Harry assures, returning the smile. Louis chews at his bottom lip, poking Harry’s side once and fluttering is eyelashes. Harry raises an eyebrow. Louis huffs out a breath, much to Harry’s confusion, and turns to return where he’s needed.

            Again, he’s dropping his robe and slipping into the tub of red liquid. He gets in gracefully, making a noise indicating that the liquid is cold. He lets his arms rest on the side, unstained from the liquid as the photographer begins getting pictures from all angles. Louis looks lustful but angry, his lips parted, eyes slightly squinted, eyebrows sharp. In between shots, people rush over to fix his hair or brush through his eyebrows.

            Louis rests his cheek on the edge of the cold tub, pouting a bit and fluttering his eyelashes. Louis gets some of the red water on his fingertips, rubbing it across his cheek and across his lips, letting his eyes closed as he drags his fingers against his lips.

            Harry shuffles in place while he watches, tugging at his pants as he watches Louis do his thing so beautifully and effortlessly. Louis sighs, Harry can tell he’s getting a bit bored with the same poses, and Louis sinks down fully, coming back up dropping in redness and running his hands through his hair. Little droplets of redness rest on his eyelashes, run down his face and drip from his hair.

            “Is there a towel?” Louis asks, trying to wipe the liquid away from his eyes when the photographer stops taking pictures. A few assistants go looking for a towel, Harry walks over awkwardly and wipes under Louis’ eyes, then wipes it off on his pants. “Merci, merci,” Louis says softly, fluttering his eyelashes. An assistant comes with a towel, and Harry takes in from them and helps Louis out, wrapping the towel around the boy.

            Louis disappears to shower, Harry hanging out in his dressing room and looking at all the makeup. He finds a highlighter, admiring how bright it is and the colors to it. “You like?” Louis asks, in a fresh, not red stained towel, and another one wrapped around his head and hair.

            Louis smiles softly, walking over and taking the highlighter from Harry’s face. He grabs a fan brush, dipping it in and brushing some over his own cheekbones, Harry watching. Then, Louis brushes a subtle amount across Harry’s cheekbones, smiling. “You smell very good,” Is the only thing Harry can think of when the fresh scent of strawberries fills his nose as Louis gets closer. Louis laughs, walking to the corner to drop his towel, pulling on the shorts and front-tie top he wore when they arrived.

            “What should we do now? Lunch?” Louis asks, fixing his hair in the mirror.

            “I should actually head back to the hotel, checkout is in a couple hours,” Harry explains, his heart twisting when he sees Louis’ face fall. It is odd, though, spending this much time with someone he’s just met.

            “I’ll drop you off, then,” Louis speaks quieter than before, pushing his fringe back before toeing on his shoes.

            The car ride is quiet, the driver is playing a classical station, per Louis’ request. Louis looks out the window, watching the concrete buildings pass by, and Harry watches him and all of his beauty. When they pull up, Harry let’s out a sigh. “Can I see you again soon?” Louis asks softly, practically reading Harry’s mind.

            “Yeah, yes of course. I work during the week but that’s it,” Harry says, as if work is insignificant, which it seems so compared to Louis. “I’ll give you my number,” Harry suggests, starting to pull out his phone before Louis waves him off.

            “No, no. Phone conversations are boring, give me your address. I’ll stop by,” Louis insists, the driver grabbing a pad of paper and pen from the center console and handing it back to the pair. Harry scribbles down his address, already getting excited at the thought of Louis popping by unannounced to see him.

            Just as everything is sorted out and Harry is about to leave the car, Louis flings his arms around the man and hugs him tightly. Harry smiles widely, dimples showing as he rubs the boy’s back and his heart seemingly flutters when Louis nuzzles his nose into his neck.

            Then Harry has to leave, and it’s very painful seeing Louis watch through the tinted windows, forehead resting against the glass.

            “So, what’d you find out about ‘im?” Is the first thing John, his boss, asks him when he arrives to work Monday morning. Harry had just arrived at his cubicle, hadn’t even set down his tea yet. And yes, he did choose tea over coffee this morning because of Louis.

            “I was able to speak to him at the after party, I found out some of his past and how he became a model. I’ll have the article on your desk in a few hours,” Harry promises, carefully setting down his hot mug and booting up the old computer. He takes a seat, his boss glaring over at him, trying to inspect him to see if he’s telling the full truth. Thankfully, for Harry, he’s a relatively good liar.

            “How’d you get him to talk?” John asks, maybe a bit suspicious but Harry stays cool, running a hand through his hair smoothly.

            “He didn’t seem to like the after party very much, so I was able to get him alone and have a casual conversation. That’s it, really,” Harry explains, hoping the giddy feeling he’s experiencing in his chest from speaking about Louis isn’t exposed in his voice or facial expression.

            “Well done, then,” John says shortly, it almost sounded like it pained him to compliment someone, before he walks away.

            Harry gets started on the article, only writing about how Louis got discovered and how old he was when he started. He explains briefly how Louis feels about being a model, and how it made him feel accepted, but trying not to go too deeply into his emotions. He doesn’t want to do anything this early on to upset Louis, even though he did get permission to write about.

            He sends it off to the editors, sighing as he sinks in his seat. He decides to do a new article based on people who identify as ‘queer,’ inspired by Louis. Spending his afternoon discovering the origins of it and how many people in the LGBT+ community have reclaimed the word. He tries not to think of Louis too much as he types away, fingers flying quickly across the keyboard and suddenly pausing to polish an idea in his mind before typing it out.

            At the end of the day, his fingers hurt, cracking his knuckles after pulling on his coat and holding onto his briefcase, heading towards the exit. He doesn’t wave to any of his co-workers as he passes by, not knowing any of them by name and none of them care enough to introduce themselves.

            He treats himself to a cab ride home instead of taking the subway, and ends up cleaning his small studio apartment to make sure it’s nice for when Louis decides to stop over. That ends up being sooner rather than later.

            There’s a soft knock on the door, and Harry nearly trips as he scrambles to go get it, answering it slightly out of breath as he smiles down at the delicate boy in his door way. Harry is still wearing his work clothes, black dress pants and a white button down. While Louis is wearing a simple blue dress that hug in at his waist, and a pair of white short heels. Louis clicks on in, sighing dramatically. “Je suis tellement fatigue,” Louis whines, sitting himself down on Harry’s couch as Harry follows after him. “Tu m'as manqué,” Louis adds on, smiling fondly as Harry takes a seat down next to the boy, willing himself to understand what he’s saying. Louis bites down on his bottom lip that’s covered in a pink gloss, glancing down at Harry’s lips before looking into the man’s eyes. “Tes lèvres sont très embrassables,” Louis confesses, messing with the hem of his dress and crossing his ankles.

            “I wish I could understand you,” Harry whispers, eyebrows furrowed, and Louis sighs dramatically, letting his head fall onto Harry’s shoulder.

            “I do too, but maybe it is not always such a bad thing. Now I can share my secrets and you would not even know it,” Louis says, and Harry hesitates before letting one of his hands rest on Louis’ thigh.

            “Then tell me a secret, yeah?” Harry asks, craning his neck ever so slightly to look at the boy resting on his shoulder. Louis smiles, smirks a little bit.

            “Je suis vierge,” Louis whispers, giggling to himself. He lifts his head up, running his fingers through his hair and letting his eyes flutter closed for a few seconds. “Je suis si seul,” Louis says a bit more solemnly, sighing as he rests on of his smaller hands over Harry’s that’s on his thigh. Harry watches him closely, trying to read his facial expressions and know what he’s saying.

            “You can talk to me, you know, without speaking in French. I’d like to hear everything you have to say,” Harry explains sweetly, Louis smiling shyly and shrugging. Harry doesn’t push anymore, he squeezes Louis thigh and grabs the remote for the telly, flicking on the news. He gets caught up on current events, Louis sitting quietly beside him.

            Louis ends up lying curled up on his side, letting his head rest on Harry’s lap. Harry runs his hands through his hair, willing himself to not get a random boner right now as he focuses on the news.

            Louis sighs loudly, signaling to Harry that he is in fact bored. Louis gets up and goes down the hall, disappearing into Harry’s bedroom. Harry gets up, following after to find Louis opening up the window, and kicking off his shoes. “Louis, what are you doing?” Harry asks, furrowing his brows as Louis climbs out the window onto the rickety fire escape.

            “Climbing up to the roof,” Louis states, as if it’s obvious and he begins walking up the shaky steps of the fire escape. Harry curses under his breath, climbing out the window after the boy, a big breeze coming and shaking the metal structure. Louis climbs up all five flights to the roof in his bare feet, wind blowing his dress up but he doesn’t seem to care as Harry follows closely behind him.

            “Louis, please be careful,” Harry calls up, coming up close behind the boy and wrapping his arms around the boy’s waist to help lift him over the small ledge onto the roof. He can see Louis’ cheeks redden under the light of the moon and city.

            “Merci,” Louis says quietly, stepping onto the flat roof, Harry coming up behind him. “In Paris, you can see the stars,” Louis says, frowning as he looks up at the sky and there are only a few stars.

            “Light pollution,” Harry explains. “All the city lights outshine the stars,” Harry adds on, looking over to see Louis frowning, craning his head to look up at the near empty lights.

            “I hate the city lights,” Louis mumbles, huffing out a breath and sitting down on the hard ground.

Harry sits down next to him, noticing the boy slightly shiver. Harry wraps both arms around the boy, and Louis nuzzles against him closely. Louis looks up at Harry, eyes soft and lips parted. Harry glances down at the boy’s lips, then back at his eyes. Louis ducks his face down shyly, Harry can’t help but stare at him fondly.

“My life is very lonely,” Louis admits quietly, looking up at Harry. “That was one of my secrets from earlier,” Louis explains, looking at his nails to try to distract himself. “I love modelling, but it can be a very isolated life if you stay away from people who only want to use you,” Louis says with a sigh, Harry frowning as he reaches for the boy’s hands to hold onto him. Harry runs his hands through Louis’ hair, twirling the short strands in his fingers.

            “How about you stay at my place tonight, I’ll keep you company,” Harry suggests, his voice gentle and Louis chews on his bottom lip.

            “I don’t need your pity, but I accept your offer,” Louis says quietly. “Even if you had not offered I still would have stayed over,” Louis says, with a hint of sass. Harry laughs once, letting his hands fall from Louis’ hair and onto his own lap. “Now tell me more about your life,” Louis insists, nudging Harry with his elbow.

            “I… I don’t know what to say. Like seems a bit surreal at the moment,” Harry replies honestly, letting his eyes skim the city lights.

            “Explain,” Louis requests, tilting his head to the side ever so slightly, it’s the most endearing things Harry has ever witnessed. And Louis isn’t even trying.

            “I graduated with my master’s a month ago, got a job, and two weeks in I’ve befriended the most beautiful person in the world who happens to be a famous model. Feels like a weird dream,” Harry admits, hoping the mentioning the forbidden F word doesn’t throw Louis off. Louis stifles a chuckle, shrugging his shoulders.

            “I don’t feel famous, nor do I want to be. But if that’s the price of being a well-respected model, I’ll accept it,” Louis replies elegantly, standing up and smoothing down his dress, offering a hand to Harry to help him up. Harry takes it, but doesn’t really need the help getting up, but he wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to hold Louis’ hand. “You don’t see me like that, do you? As simply a ‘famous model’?” Louis asks, looking over at Harry with a sense of worry as the head towards the ledge and the fire escape.

            “No, no, of course not. I only see you as Louis, but it’s hard to forget about the other stuff,” Harry explains truthfully, and Louis nods once, sitting on the ledge and sliding down onto the steps, heading down with ease. Harry, however, has a tight grip on any railing or supporting bars he can find, watching Louis’ bare feet closely to make sure he doesn’t fall or miss a step. He doesn’t, of course, and makes his way back through Harry’s window with ease.

            Harry follows behind just a few moments after, but when he gets in his room Louis’ dress is on the floor and he’s wearing one of Harry’s large t shirts that is far too big on him. Louis picks up his dress, folds it neatly, and sets in on Harry’s dresser. Harry blinks a few times, grabbing sweatpants from the drawer and retreating to his bathroom to recover. He lets out a slow breath, undressing himself carefully, looking down at his bare cock and feeling a rush of blood come to it. “Stop, not now,” He whispers harshly, and for once his hormones actually listen to him as he pulls on his sweatpants, splashes his face with cold water, and walks back out to see Louis.

            Louis’ eyes fall to Harry’s blank chest, lips parted sweetly, and he’s now sitting cross legged on Harry’s bed. Harry gets under the covers wordlessly, worried that any word he may utter might ruin the night. Louis follows his lead, resting his head on the pillows and laying on his side facing the edge of the bed. Harry flicks off the side lamp, lying on his back and he can’t help but look over at Louis’ backside. Does Louis want him to spoon him? He’s right there… it’d be so easy to wrap and arm around the boy. Before Harry has had too much time to overanalyze, Louis is rolling over, scooting closer to rest his head on Harry’s chest and place a hand on the man’s abs. Harry forgets to breath, and finally exhales a large breath when he wraps an arm around Louis, feeling his cold skin beneath his warm skin.

            Louis’ coolness feels good against his warmth, so Harry lets his hands wander to search for more cool skin. He ends up reaching down to the back of Louis’ soft thigh, rubbing his hand there, and Louis slings his thigh over Harry’s, the boy’s knee bent.

            “Vous devenez courageux,” Louis whispers, letting out a tired laugh and letting his eyes fall closed once again. Harry thinks Louis said something about being courageous, at least that’s what it sounded like. He opts to let his hand rest on Louis’ thigh, wrapping his other arm around Louis’ shoulders.

            They fall asleep like that, and the next morning they wake up like that, only Louis managed to snuggle even closer at night. Harry doesn’t mind the sound of his alarm Tuesday morning, signaling him to get ready for work, because there’s a beautiful boy snuggled up next to him wearing his own t shirt.

            Louis stirs are the sound of the alarm, but does not move off of Harry. Harry reaches over to the side table, turning it off and rubbing Louis’ back. Louis makes a soft, tired sound, nuzzling his nose into Harry’s neck and breathing warmly there. “I have work today,” Harry mumbles, in case Louis forgot. Louis sighs, still not making any effort to move or release Louis from his embrace.

            Eventually he rolls over, and Harry is able to witness freshly awakened Louis for the first time. The last time they spent the night together, Louis has woken up far earlier than Louis, fresh faced and making breakfast. Today, Harry gets to witness Louis’ soft hair all out of place. His cheeks a bit puffy from sleep, eyes a bit foggy from sleep, movements slow and gentle. “Le salaud,” Louis grumbles, rubbing his eyes and some of the fogginess begins to fade. “Tu préférerais aller à ton boulot plutôt que de te faire des câlins avec moi?” Louis asks, accusingly and he squints his eyes and sits up, crossing his arms after he does so. Harry picks up on his annoyance, crawling over in bed and nuzzling his face into the insides of Louis’ soft thighs. Louis flicks him on the head in return, getting out from under Harry and letting the man’s head drop on the mattress.

            Harry frowns, tilting his chin to watch Louis walk across the room and into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Harry hears the shower turn on, and opts to go start breakfast for the two of them instead. He’d normally make a protein smoothie and drink it on the commute, but he can handle being half an hour later to spend some more time with Louis.

            Harry ends up making simple sunny side up eggs, and toast. He sets out jam, margarine, salt, pepper, and two glasses of apple juice. He sets up the plates with the eggs and toasts, waiting proudly by the table for Louis to come out from his shower.

            When he does come out, he’s wearing a very old pair of Harry’s black skinny jeans with holes at the knees. They’re so long on Louis, he had to roll up the hems quite a few times to get them at his ankles. Louis also managed to somehow dig up Harry’s old lilac sweater that he hasn’t worn since his third year in college, and he’s practically swimming in it as he walks over in his bare feet. “You look… very, very lovely,” Harry says softly, realizing this is the first time he’s seen Louis wear pants of any kind. He still looks as feminine as always, fluttering his long eyelashes while joining Harry at his breakfast bar in front of the plates.

            Louis sits down on the stool, lips slight pursed, his cheeks bones looking lovely as ever. He pushes back his damp hair, a few strands falling in his eyes. Harry watches, in awe as he always is in the presence of Louis. Louis looks over, and raises a brow. “What are you staring at?” Louis asks, picking up his fork.

            “You.” Louis rolls his eyes, and Harry crinkles his nose.

            “Why?”

            “I think, I’m… infatuated with you,” Harry says softly, Louis tapping his fork lightly against his plate.

            “You think? Tell me when you know,” Louis replies, poking his fork into the yolk of the egg, letting the yellow liquid ooze out. He picks up his toast, dipping it into the gooey yolk, and biting off that corner.

            “I am infatuated with you, I really am,” Harry says, huffing out an annoyed breath. Louis takes another bite, chewing slowly before swallowing.

            “How many people have made you feel like this before?” Louis asks, turning his attention away from his food and back onto Harry.

            “I don’t know. It feels different every time,” Harry explains vaguely.

            “Describe how this time feels,” Louis requests.

            “It feels more hopeful. It feels bubbly, it gets all condensed not only in my chest by to my fingers and toes. It feels… really good, good to be around you and touch you and talk to you,” Harry explains the best that he can, hoping it’s good enough for Louis. Louis pushes his hair back again, looking down while contemplating what to say.

            “You’re the weirdest person I’ve met,” Louis starts, his accent somehow thicker than normal. “I like that about you, and I like you,” Louis replies, winking with a sly smile. Harry’s relatively pleased with that response, and always a comfortable silence with occasional chit chat while they eat their breakfast.

            Things between them go really well. Louis randomly pops over to Harry’s place a few times a week when the loneliness becomes too much, they make a night of it. Whether it’s watching every single movie Harry owns, which are all either romantic-comedies or Disney movies. They spend nights on the roof, or just sitting on the fire escape and trying to look into people’s windows or guess what they’re doing based on their shadows.

            The best nights, Harry’s favorite nights, are when they get in their pajamas straight away, cuddle under the blankets and just talk. They talk about anything, Louis slurring from English to French more often as the night grows darker. Louis never flinches when Harry touches his thigh or arm, once Harry even slipped his hand under the shirt Louis was wearing to rest it on his hip and Louis barley blinked an eye. Harry’s chest still lurches when Louis holds onto his shoulder or his fingertips graze over his abs.

            Their conversation topics range from spirituality to their favorite animal. Harry loves learning things about Louis. He loves hearing him talk even when he can’t understand what he’s saying. Louis is so smart. Harry thought he was intelligent with all of his social justice and political knowledge, but Louis knows just as much if not more. Harry always took a Western approach, although Louis opens his eyes to the troubles people who aren’t from Europe or America face, despite being from France. Harry has never met someone so inspiring, so smart, he often forgets the small boy curled up in his bed is only 18.

            Things at work are going well for Harry as well. His article about Louis gave them a lot of credibility as a source for fashion related news and information. He’s able to even get a few of his own articles published within the past few months of knowing Louis. When they do get published, Louis always buys the physical copy of Harry’s paper and makes a big show of reading them, much to Harry’s amusement.

            The first photoshoot of Louis’ that Harry witnessed in person was published as well. It astonished the entire fashion community, earning Louis even more praise that he still is not sure how to respond to. People like Jimmy Fallon and Seth Meyers want to interview him, but Louis makes his manager turn them all down, so he continues to have his nickname of the ‘Mystery Model.’

            Harry goes to more of Louis’ photoshoots, giving Louis support and company as he’s lacking in that. It’s amazing seeing Louis work and model so effortlessly, he just steps in front of the camera and is everything he needs to be and more.

            And Harry can’t help but think about how amazed and fond he is of this boy as he’s curled un in a ball, tucked under Harry’s arm as they sit on the couch together. They met in the late summer, but now it’s autumn and the cool weather make’s Louis’ already cold skin a bit colder. Louis has become much clingier and softer, and Harry doesn’t know whether it’s because of the cold or weather or that the two of them have gotten closer. Either way, Harry is very pleased.

            Tonight, Louis is even softer and touchier, though. He uncurls from his ball, reaching up the mess with the buttons of Harry’s work shirt, tugging open the first few buttons. Harry watches as Louis rests his hand on Harry’s bare chest, sighing sweetly.

            Louis pulls away, situating himself to lay on his back, which his knees bent and head on Harry’s lap. He looks up at the man, lips falling slightly open as he blinks slowly. “Harry,” Louis says, and Harry loves the way his name sounds when Louis speaks it with his accent. “Embrasse moi,” Louis whines, pouting. Harry tries to decipher it, embrace him? Hug him? Then he looks down at Louis’ pouting lips, and when he does Louis’ lips curl into a smile.

            Louis sits up, finding a nice seat on Harry’s lap, fluttering his eyelashes and Harry wraps his arms around his waist. Harry isn’t quite sure why they haven’t kissed before now, after all these weeks of sharing a bed, cuddling, spending nights together.

            Louis lets his eyes fall closed, Harry admiring him for a moment before leaning in to connect their lips. He lets his own eyes fall closed, and takes the time to soak in the taste of Louis’ lips. Firstly, they’re the softest lips Harry has even kissed in his life. It’s as if they melt in his mouth like cotton candy, and he can’t get enough of it as he moves their lips together in gentle motions. They’re sweet, not too sweet. Sweet like a ripe strawberry in the spring time, the perfect time for strawberries. Louis makes a soft noise in the back of his throat, reaching up to wrap his arms around Harry’s neck and pull him closer. Harry heats up the kiss, slipping his tongue in which seems to surprise Louis, and Louis’ mouth goes pliant as Harry explores.

            Harry slows down the kiss, calming it down and slowly pulling away, admiring Louis’ lips that are now a much more vibrant pink. “Oi,” Louis whispers, running a hand through his hair and wiggling on Harry’s lap, smiling widely. Harry trails a few kisses along Louis’ prominent jaw line, letting his hands run up and down the boy’s sides. “Finally,” Louis says softly, letting his head drop to Harry’s shoulder, sighing happily.

            Harry smiles, thinking the same thing and wondering why it took him so long. Louis is a private person, despite the fact that they talk so much the only two times he’s opened up about something personal was the first time they met and when Louis admitted to being lonely. Harry doesn’t know what Louis wants, he doesn’t know his past relationships or feelings about future ones.

            Harry holds only the boy a little tighter, only loosening his grip when Louis pulls back to kiss Harry some more.

            After that, they end up kissing almost all the time. Their late-night conversations are intertwined with soft kisses in between sentences. They keep warm up on the roof with heated kisses, and give the neighbors something to look at through their window instead. It’s all very, very good.

            “We should go somewhere together,” Harry suggests one night between kisses.

            “Why go anywhere when I can stay here and kiss you?” Louis asks, smiling as he reaches out to poke Harry’s nose. Harry smiles, chuckling.

            “C’mon, Louis. Let’s go do something. It’s late, we could go to central park and there’ll only be sleeping homeless people and teenagers smoking weed there,” Harry suggests, letting his hands travel along Louis’ arm, touching gently. Louis sighs dramatically, rolling out of bed, smoothing down his black high waisted shorts and adjusting his gold off the shoulder top.

            “The things I do for you,” Louis mumbles, fixing his hair in the mirror while Harry gets ready.

            They take the subway, hands intertwined as if they’re proper couple. Harry steals a few kisses, Louis’ cheeks turning pink and Harry assumes it’s from the public displays of affection. But Louis gets all shy and soft, ducking his head down and biting down on his bottom lip.

            They keep their hands latched together when they arrive at their stop, swinging them back and forth between them as they walk. Louis sings something sweetly in French as they walk, his soft voice making the dark night brighter.

            They end up stopping in a coffee shop that’s still open at this hour. Harry notices the looks they give Louis, and he can’t tell if it’s because they recognize him or that he’s absolutely beautiful. Harry lets Louis order tea for the two of them since he knows nothing about it, and he looks over at a magazine rack to see Louis on the cover of one. He looks back at Louis, smiling proudly as the cashier takes his order, looking a bit enchanted in the presence of Louis.

            Harry feels only a twinge of jealousy, but coughs into his hands to subside it as he walks back over to Louis, wrapping an arm around his waist. “Harry, do you like blueberries or strawberries better?” Louis asks, tilting his chin over to Harry.

            “Hm, strawberries,” Harry replies, thinking of the taste of Louis’ lips.

            “Could you add two of your strawberry muffins to that as well?” Louis asks the cashier, and the man behind the register nods quickly. Louis pulls out a credit card from his back pocket, handing it over and the cashier immediately looks at the name, eyes going wide a bit.

            “So, you are Louis Tomlinson, the model?” He asks as he swipes the card, smiling from excitement as he hands Louis’ card back over, and Louis takes it back shyly.

            “Oui, that’s me I suppose,” Louis replies softly, running a hand through his hair and biting his bottom lip.

            “You’re everywhere right now. Your photoshoots seem really creative,” He compliments, and Harry squeezes Louis’ side reassuringly as Louis gets a little nervous.

            “Thank you very much,” Louis replies softly, smiling sweetly and letting Harry distract him as Harry leads them to a couch to wait for the teas.

            Harry pecks Louis’ lips, Louis softening a bit under Harry’s touch. Harry kisses him again, letting their lips linger against one another for a few moments. Harry sucks on Louis’ bottom lip, smiling when Louis whines quietly. They pull away when their tea is ready, Louis finding some cash and leaving it as tip. And Harry sends the barista a glare when they look at Louis lustfully as they leave, tea and muffins in hand.

            “I haven’t been publicly recognized before,” Louis admits quietly when they leave, Louis already sipping his tea but Harry knows it’s far too hot for him to handle at the moment.

            “How? Louis, you’re genuinely everywhere. I mean,” Harry pauses, looking up at a billboard that has Louis’ face on it. “Look, you’re literally everywhere,” Harry laughs, pointing up to the billboard. Louis giggles, shrugging shyly and kicking a pebble that’s on the sidewalk.

            “I don’t go out a lot, maybe that’s why. I have a personal driver that drives me to my photoshoots, drives me home, and drives me to your place. That’s it,” Louis admits, taking another sip of the scolding tea with ease. Harry frowns, the isolated life Louis lives always saddens him. He always seems okay though, it never seems to really bother him but Harry still isn’t sure what to make of it.

            “You’ve never made friends through modelling?” Harry asks, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

            “I tried to at first, but I learned people will do anything to get ahead. There are so many cliques and I don’t fit into any of them,” Louis says, frowning. “I’m not a skinny blond girl and I’m not a muscular masculine boy,” Louis says, and it’s the first time Harry’s really witness him sound truly sad.

            “Why don’t… Why don’t I introduce you to my friends? They’re really, really great people,” Harry promises, and he can’t tell if Louis’ eyes are just glassy or that a few tears are in them. Louis sniffles, taking a sip of his tea before speaking.

            “I suppose that would be nice,” Louis whispers, as they finally reach the park, sitting down on the first empty bench they fine. Louis unwraps his muffin, pulling it apart and taking a chunk off to eat. Harry does the same, finally taking a sip of his tea now that it’s cooled down enough.

            “Also, you know, you can spend more than just a few nights at my place every week. I don’t like the idea of you being lonely in your apartment,” Harry suggests.

            He looks over at Louis when he hears him gasp in a desperate breath, looking over to see the small and beautiful boy cry, setting his muffin down and putting a hand over his mouth. Harry’s heart drops, wrapping an arm around Louis closely and tucking him under his arm. Louis sinks against Harry’s side, hiding his face under Harry’s arms, his body trembling with every breath he takes in.

            “I’m here, I’m here, I’m always here,” Harry whispers, squeezing his eyes shut and breathing out slowly and Louis shakes against him. He rubs Louis’ back, pulling him closer and rocking their bodies side to side slowly.

            It takes a few minutes before Louis’ shaking subsides and he’s only sniffling, wiping his nose with his sweater paws as he pokes his out from under Harry’s arm. Harry wipes his tears away, kissing a few that are on his cheeks. “Take a few breaths, honey,” Harry says softly, cupping Louis’ cheeks and looking into his sad eyes.

            “Je suis si reconnaissant pour toi,” Louis says quietly, letting a few more cold tears roll down his perfect cheeks, now tainted with tear stains. “I look so pathetic,” Louis whines when Harry wipes away the few final tears, feeling helpless and wishing he could do more to make Louis feel better.

            “You look beautiful, and you are strong, Louis. You are all things good, fuck, Louis,” Harry pauses, gritting his teeth and holding Louis’ face in his hands. Louis’ cheeks are a bit squished under Harry’s grasp, and it’s all so precious. “You deserve so much better than this. One day I’ll capture the world and give it to you, I swear,” Harry says quietly, feeling a sadness of his own creeping up on him as he looks into Louis’ eyes.

            “You still give out far too many compliments,” Louis mumbles, a small glimmer in his otherwise dull eyes.

            “But they’re all for you,” Harry replies, letting his hands fall onto his own lap, Louis shifting closer so they’re nearly attached at the hip.

Louis picks his muffin up again, still sniffing occasionally as he nibbles on it. Their tea has gone cold, and Louis drinks it with a bitter expression.

That night, their kisses last a little longer, Harry holds on a bit tighter, and Louis nuzzles a bit deeper.

It’s Sunday morning, which is Harry’s favorite morning when Louis sleeps over the night before. Louis never has anything to do on Sunday’s, meanwhile on Saturday’s he always has a photoshoot or an event to get ready for. But Sunday’s are for him.

Harry starts the day off checking his email on his laptop, while Louis cuddled against his shoulder, occasionally lazily looking at the screen before blinking his eyes closed. Then he checks major news pages, then more gossip pages, and that’s when the morning takes a turn.

Pictures of Louis and Harry from the coffee house are plastered on every gossip news sight, there even seems to be hacked footage from security cameras of them kissing on the couch. Right before Harry is about to slam his laptop close, Louis perks up, pulling the screen towards him with furrowed brows. “I-I didn’t know the barista was taking pictures,” Harry says quickly. He’s not sure how Louis will react. He was never able to pick up on whether him steering clear from the media was on purpose or because he simply didn’t care.

Louis scrolls through the article, skimming in and his lips curl up a bit. “Look, they called you handsome,” Louis says in his sleepy voice, pointing to the word on the screen, then looking back at Harry. Harry smiles fondly, feeling a bit more at ease as Louis keeps scrolling. He finds the hacked security footage, playing it and they both watch them cuddle on the couch together. Harry watches Louis’ smile grow, the boy chewing on his bottom lip.

“How do you feel?” Harry asks when Louis finishes reading the article, and Louis shrugs.

“It is what it is. All they have are pictures of us and what we ordered, that’s it,” Louis replies, and Harry’s nerves finally subside fully.

A few hours later, the world knows everything about Harry Styles. They must have done an FBI search because now they know where he grew up, where he went to college, where he works, and they even know about the article Harry wrote about Louis when they just met. Now the accusations begin that Harry’s only using Louis for his journalism, but Harry closes his laptop when Louis comes back in with two bowls of cereal, and decides it’s best not to worry him with it.

“I was thinking we could get together with my friends today,” Harry starts, shoveling a few spoonfuls of cereal into his mouth while Louis delicately eats his. Louis hums, nodding once but not really giving a proper response as he continues to eat. Harry twists his lips to side, looking over at the boy. “They could come over here, watch some movies, play some video games, drink some beer, something chill, yeah?” Harry adds on, hoping to get a response from Harry this time. He gets a soft ‘okay’ and then Louis takes their now empty bowls back out to the kitchen to wash them. Harry huffs out a breath, grabbing his phone and texting a few of his friends, trying to see who can come over.

Harry gets quick responses thankfully, and Louis walks back in, sitting back on the bed. “A few of my friends will be over in about twenty minutes,” Harry informs Louis, and Louis nods in acknowledgment and lays down on the bed.

Harry pecks his cheek before getting up, going into the bathroom to freshen up before changing into some proper clothes. He opts for a pair of skinny jeans and a t shirt, toeing on some shoes as he goes to straighten up the front room. He hears the shower start up, and continues on cleaning.

It’s not long before Liam and Niall show up, food in hands and smiles on their faces. “Listen,” Harry says quietly as they walk in. “Louis is a private person, don’t take pictures to show off and treat him like a normal person,” Harry insists, setting the chips and other snacks on the counter.

“We can’t take a picture with him?” Niall asks, puffing out his cheeks and crossing his arms. Harry rolls his eyes, booting up the TV and the Xbox.

“Just be civil, okay? He’s really a lovely person,” Harry says, and right then Louis appears from the back bedroom, wearing a long sweater than makes it hard to tell if they’re wearing shorts. Louis stretches his arms above his head, revealing a pair of small spandex shorts under his sweater as he walks over to Harry.

“Bonjour,” Louis says sweetly, Liam and Niall looking wide eyed in Louis’ beauty. “I’m Louis, and you are?” Louis asks, smiling sweetly.

“Liam, Liam Payne,” Liam interjects Niall who was about to speak, reaching his hand out to shake Louis’ hand. Liam smiles bright and happy, before Niall nudges his shoulder.

“And I’m Niall, lovely to meet you,” Niall says, a big grin as he grabs Louis’ hands from Harry’s.

“Alright, alright, how about we fire up some games?” Harry suggests, shoving Niall and Lima towards the couch, letting them argue about which game they should play first and Harry wraps an arm around Louis’ waist. “You look nice,” Harry says softly, leading him to the couch and they get all cozy in the corner together. Louis slings his legs across Harry’s lap, and Harry admires Louis as the boy watches his friends argue.

            They end up playing Call of Duty 3, the zombies mode which is Harry’s personal favorite. Harry, Liam and Niall play on a team, Louis watching and making comments here and there. “This game is so angry,” Louis mumbles, looking over at Harry when his character goes down, waiting to be revived. “And none of you are very good,” Louis adds on, a sly smile as the others turn their heads towards him.

            “Hey! I’m pretty good,” Niall whines, and with his back turned to the game, he ends up getting taken down by a group of zombies. Liam quickly follows, and their third game of the afternoon comes to an end.

            “See, bad,” Louis says simply, Harry resting his controller and hands on Louis’ thighs that are still swung over his lap.

            “Can you do better?” Harry challenges. Louis purses his lips, picks up Harry’s controller and starts off a new round. And of course Louis does well because Louis seems to be good at everything, even video games when he doesn’t own a TV let alone a game console of his own.

            “Liam, for fucksake, watch your back,” Louis blurts out, sighing and dropping his controller when he dies trying to revive Liam, crossing his arms and pouting. Harry watches amused.

            “Yeah Liam, watch your- shit,” Niall groans, when he gets swarmed by zombies as well, and doesn’t have a good enough gun to defend himself. So, another game comes to an end, Louis already bored of it after one go at it.

            “Je veux t'embrasser,” Louis whines, looking over at Harry. Harry knows that word now, embrasse, and he wants to kiss Louis too. Harry settles for a peck on Louis’ nose, Louis still frowning.

            “He spoke in French! Say more things in French,” Niall says excitedly, moving from the side chair he was sitting on to sit on the couch next to Louis. Louis thinks for a few moments, before opening his mouth to speak.

            “Tu es terrible aux jeux video,” Louis says simply, a little smile on his lips.

            “He said video! Were you talking about video games?” Liam questions, leaning in his own side chair and scooting it closer to engage in the conversation.

            “He never translates what he says, he likes to keep you guessing,” Harry comments, having lived this life with Louis for months now.

            “Mais tu m'aimes toujours,” Louis comments smugly at Harry, reaching out to grab Harry’s hands, playing with the man’s fingers. Harry watches him, endeared, almost forgetting Liam and Niall are there watching them.

            “So, Harry, how’s your job going?” Liam asks, trying to get a solid conversation going.

            “Good, good. I’ve been able to get a few articles past editing and published, so that’s nice. It feels like everything is finally coming together, y’know?” Harry asks, and he glances over at Louis who is still focused on their hands. He looks back at Liam who has a knowing smile and nods. “What about you, how’s the little one?”

            “Not so little,” Liam starts, laughing. “They grow up really fast, it’s crazy to watch really. But it’s good. Cheryl is still on the fence about marriage but,” Liam stops to shrug, running his fingers along the tattoos on his arms.

            “She’ll come around,” Harry assures. “Why don’t you grab some beers, they’re in the fridge,” Harry insists, Liam and Niall disappearing.

            Louis seizes his opportunity and presses his lips against Harry’s abruptly, shocking the man a bit but he quickly eases into the kiss. He wraps his arms around Louis’ waist, Louis parting his lips and Harry slips his tongue in. They lap their mouths together for a few more seconds before the other boy’s come back.

            “Whoa! We leave for one second, calm down lovebirds,” Niall says, laughing and handing Harry a beer, offering one to Louis who shakes his head, and instead shamelessly kissing along Harry’s neck. And Harry can’t help but think of how much he’d rather be in bed kissing Louis, why did he think inviting friends over was a good idea?

            They start up a movie, drinking beer, eating, and talking through most of it. They ask Louis questions about France, and he gets excited. He talks about the beautiful landscape, the pretty roads, cute shops everywhere, friendly people. His eyes get a little sparkle that he sometimes gets when looking at Harry.

            “Why’d you move here?” Liam asks, Louis frowning and shrugging.

            “My manager pushed me to. I was popular in France and Europe, and she wanted to debut me in America,” Louis replies, no longer with his legs on Harry’s lap and instead sitting cross-legged.

            “Do you like it here?” Niall asks.

            “It’s an ugly place, but I’m able to do what I love here, and that’s enough,” Louis replies, Niall and Liam taken back a bit, but Harry already knows Louis’ feeling towards America and how much he misses France.

            Niall and Liam get sidetracked talking about the World Cup, and Louis gets up and disappears into the bedroom. “Hey, you should probably get going, the subways start to get packed in a little bit,” Harry suggests, sending his friends on their way, feeling like this gathering may have been more of a burden to Louis than actually helpful.

            Harry takes the time to clean the beer bottles and dust off the crumbs before going back to the bedroom. It’s empty but the window is open, and Harry takes a deep breath as he steps out onto the fire escape, finding Louis sat on the stairs with a cigarette delicately between his fingers. Harry carefully sits down next to him still not comfortable with the metal structure. “I didn’t know you smoked,” Harry comments, Louis handing it over, and Harry takes a swig of his own.

            “Only on rare occasion, I found them in your side drawer,” Louis comments. “Along with other things.” Louis doesn’t specify what those other things are, but Harry already knows, and he can’t help but feel embarrassed.

            “I only smoke on the rare occasion as well,” Harry replies, passing the cigarette back to Louis.

            “I can tell. You don’t smell like smoke, you smell sweet,” Louis replies, taking a slow drag and closing his eyes as the ashes fill his lungs. The sun begins to set on the horizon, they can’t see the sun behind the buildings but the colors of the skies begin to change. They watch, passing a cigarette back and forth until it’s burnt out. Then Harry lights a second one, passing that one the same way they did the first.

            When the second one burns out, they kiss. They kiss slowly and for a long time, tasting the smoke on each other’s breaths and taking it all in. Louis holds onto Harry’s shirt, tugging him closer. Harry’s hands end up under Louis’ sweater, feeling his bare skin under his fingertips as he bites down on the boy’s bottom lip. Louis lets out a whine when Harry does, Harry loving all the soft noises he makes when they kiss. He can’t help but to think that he wants more, how have their kissing not led to more? But when he pulls away, he sees innocence in Louis’ glossy eyes, and he tries to understand it.

            Harry takes Monday, the next day, off work to accompany Louis to a photoshoot that he’s particularly nervous about. He’s done all these things on camera before, but it’s for a much more scandalous brand on lingerie and the brand is already taking a risk with hiring Louis, and Louis doesn’t want to mess things up.

            So, Harry comes along, holding Louis’ hand while he gets his makeup done, sitting in the corner of the room while he gets dressed, and stands behind the photographer to watch Louis do his thing.

            Louis has a smoky eye makeup look with deep blues and blacks, and black lipstick on. His contour is harsh, a subtle highlight to keep the look dark. He’s dressed in a simple black thong, with fish net stocks that go up to his upper thigh. He walks around a bit more timidly than he normally does, crawling onto the bed and sitting up the foot of it.

He stares into the camera, giving hot smolders and the photographer eats it up. Louis stands up on his knees, showing off his plump peach bum for a few shots before dropping down to his hands and knees. Harry looks down at the ground for a few moments, trying to compose himself before looking up, Louis arching his bum up, and a few of the assistant’s clap as he does so.

“I need more, Louis, more,” The photographer insists, turning around and looking at Harry. “Show me your hands,” He orders. Harry is confused, but lifts up his hands for the man to see. “Brilliant, beautiful hands. Now, go over there and grab his ass, your face won’t be in the shot.” Harry looks at him, gaping, and Louis’ face flushes but he maintains his pose. The photographer pushes Harry over, growing impatient.

And then Harry is stood behind Louis’ arched bum, taking a deep breath before placing his hands lightly on the smooth skin. Louis’ dropped to his elbows, tilting his head and chin perfectly towards the camera. “Grab it, you need to mean it,” The photographer orders, and Harry does so, and he can’t help but notice the small sound that leaves Louis’ lips.

After a few minutes of camera clicking, the photographer claps, and sends Louis off to get changed. Louis disappears into his dressing room before Harry can follow after him, closing the door behind him. So, Harry waits in the main room, ignoring how heavy his lower regions he feels, and occasionally looking down to be sure it’s not visible.

Louis comes out, looking a bit dazed dresses up in a white corset and making lace panties. He barely even looks at Harry as he’s set up on a prop cloud. He looks sweet and elegant as always, and it’s not long before the photographer has more than enough perfect shots to feature in their next magazine.

Louis disappears into the dressing room without Harry again, reappearing a few minutes later wearing the dress he arrived in. They walk out to the car in silence, and it’s agenizing. But right when the driver closes the door behind the pair, Louis lunges forward and kisses Harry, thankfully the boy took off his lipstick if not it’d be a mess. There’s a new sense of desperation when Louis kisses Harry, a new hunger as he moves their lips together.

Louis’ hand slips from Harry’s waist onto his crotch and the boy gasps, pulling away, eyes a bit wide. “Fuck, fuck, Louis, I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Harry says quickly, running a hand through his hair and tugging at it. Louis reaches forward, closing the divider between the front and back seat to give them some privacy.

Louis, wordlessly, goes back to kissing Harry, a bit slower this time. It takes a few minutes before his hands return tentatively to Harry’s crotch, fumbling with the button. he eventually gets it, unzipping Harry’s pants and running his small and soft hands along Harry’s cock over the man’s boxers. Harry can’t help but groan at the sense of relief, and knowing it’s Louis instead of his own hand makes it a million times better.

Louis pulls back from the kiss to look down at Harry’s lap as he slowly pulls down Harry’s boxers, eventually revealing his large dick. Harry scans Louis’ face, and Louis looks a bit shocked and scared, as if he’s never seen another penis before. Louis hesitates before wrapping his hand around it. Harry spits into his own, pumping his own cock a few times to make it easier. Louis takes another few moments before working his hand up and down the length of Harry’s cock. They both fall quiet, the only noise is Harry’s heaving breathing.

Harry watches Louis’ expression, seeing the curiosity in his eyes as his hands work over Harry’s dick. Harry feels his orgasm building up in the pit of his stomach. He wraps his arms around Louis, burying his face in the boy’s neck and kissing there, groaning between the kisses. Louis picks up hi previously slow pace, feeling the anticipation, tightening his grip on Harry’s dick and working his hand up and down it.

Harry curses, moans, and then comes into Louis’ hand. Louis’ eyes go wide, pulling his hand away that’s now covered in stickiness. Harry finds some tissues helping him wipe it all off. Harry’s not quite sure what to say, so he kisses Louis gently and creeps his hands up the boy’s inner thighs. “Want me to take care of you next?” Harry asks, his voice a bit deeper than it normally is. Louis breathes shakily, shaking his head once, and pushing Harry’s hand away so it’s a safe distance away.

Harry respects the boundaries placed, pulling up his boxers and zipping his pants before slinging an arm around Louis’ shoulder. “Thank you,” He whispers into Louis’ ear, and the boy’s cheeks go a bit pink as the car comes to a stop.

Harry gets out to find them at Louis’ apartment, which is strange since he hasn’t been back here since their first night together. But, instead of questioning, he takes Louis’ hand and they walk up the stairs together.

Everything looks the same when they get in, a few more plants and a new pile of books but that’s as far as Harry can tell. Louis pulls off his dress as he goes into the bedroom, only wearing some cute cotton panties before he curls up on the bed. Harry follows after, nudging his shoes off and sitting on the edge. “Want me to order take out for dinner?” Harry asks, eyes briefly scanning Louis’ body that’s now stretched out above the covers. Louis nods, and then pats the bed next to him.

Harry takes his place lying next to Louis, letting his hands wander Louis’ body. His thighs, his stomach, his chest, his arm. Gentle touches all around, until Louis gets too shy and pulls the covers over himself. Harry takes that as a signal to pull out his phone and call the nearest Chinese restaurant, ordering all of Louis’ and his favorites. “Ask for extra fortune cookies,” Louis says quietly, Harry ruffling the boy’s hair and doing just that.

Louis gets dressed and they take their food out to the balcony, that Harry hadn’t noticed until now, and sit on the ground to eat it. Louis has lots of plants set up on the balcony, all of them vibrant and green, making the air surrounding them smell a little less like the musty city. Louis sits on Harry’s lap, facing him with his legs wrapped around the man’s waist. He uses his chop sticks to feed Harry balls of rice dipped in red sauce, and Harry uses a fork to feed Louis lo mein. “Are you still infatuated with me?” Louis asks, smiling after swallowing a mouthful of noodles. Harry pauses for a second, contemplating what to say.

“It’s more than that now,” Harry replies, accepting another bite of rice from Louis.

“What is it now?” Louis asks, eyes soft.

“Adoration, endearment, fondness,” Harry replies, trying his best to capture his feelings without being too overbearing.

“Those are all synonyms of love,” Louis says quietly, Harry’s ears perking up when Louis says that word, the four-letter word.

“I suppose they are,” Harry agrees, trying not to be too direct.

“I… feel the same way,” Louis says, his voice wavering a bit as he dances around the subject, looking down at the containers of various Chinese foods. Harry grins, scooping up another forkful of lo mein, tilting Louis’ chin up to feed it to him.

Louis sets his own food down to wrap his arms around Harry’s neck, hugging him close and closing his eyes, breathing out softly. Harry sets his own food down, wrapping his arms around Louis. Louis clings on a bit tighter, and Harry rubs his back, and his heart has never felt as full as it does with his arms wrapped around this boy.

They don’t say the L word to each other, and don’t talk about the hand job, but something has definitely changed between them. It’s a good change. But things don’t seem to good when Harry goes back to work Tuesday, immediately being called into his boss’ office.

“What the hell is this?” The large man snaps, turning his computer screen to show Harry the pictures of him an Louis kissing. “You’ve been hanging around him for months and all you got me is one fucking article?” He snaps, face growing red.

“Louis is an important part of my personal life now. What happens between us and his life is none of your business,” Harry says, as calmly as he can, clenching his jaw and letting out a slow breath.

“If I don’t get another story by the end of the month, you’re fired. Now get out of my office,” He hisses, and Harry wastes no time in leaving, walking back to his cubicle and sinking down in his chair. That’s what he notices everyone looking at him differently, they know, everybody knows. It’s not a bad thing, he’s not ashamed of Louis in any way, but he liked it better when Louis was his little secret.

He sits there with clenched fists for a while, trying to figure out what he’s supposed to do. He won’t say another word about Louis, but is he going to just let his boss fire him? Harry sighs, closing his eyes and sinking deeper into the chair.

Harry doesn’t even have time to talk to Louis about it that night, because Louis is all over him that night. He’s only wearing a sweater with soft panties underneath, his legs smooth and soft as Louis clings against him on the couch. Harry’s lying down on his back, Louis lying on top of him with his chin resting on the man’s chest. His fingers tap against Harry’s chest as well, creating a steady rhythm. “Could… could you run us a hot shower? ‘M in the mood for one,” Louis asks, with a hint of something new, a tone that Harry hasn’t heard from the little French boy before.

“Yes, of course,” Harry says without hesitation, Louis crawling off of him.

“I’ll join you in a moment,” Louis promises, cheeks a bit rosy and lips a bit more plump than normal. Harry can’t help but glance over his shoulder a few more times before he gets past the doorway, going into his bathroom and starting the hot tap.

He strips his own clothes off, feeling a shot of adrenaline in his heart and through his body that makes him do a little jittery before kicking his clothes into the corner. He’s shitfaced grinning as he steps in, pulling the curtain closed, waiting for Louis.

The door creaks open, and Harry gets to see the shadow of Louis getting undressed behind the shower curtain, before the boy pokes his head in, stepping in carefully. Harry keeps his eyes above Louis’ neck for as long as he can before starting to let them wander, but Louis tilts Harry’s chin back up, biting his bottom lip.

Harry resists the temptation to look down, wrapping his arms around Louis’ waist and pulling him under the warm water with him. The boy’s fringe gets soaked, getting in his eyes and Harry helps tuck it behind his ear. Louis looks so beautiful, his face a light pink from the heat of the water, eyelashes catching droplets of water. However, it’s very hard to ignore the fact that they’re both very naked, and very close to one another.

Harry’s not quite sure what Louis wants him to do, until Louis shuffles a bit closer so their chests are barely touching. Louis laces his fingers behind Harry’s neck, pulling the man’s head down to kiss his wet lips. The sweet taste of Louis’ lips is dulled down by the taste of the tap water, but that doesn’t keep Harry from sucking down on the boy’s bottom lips. His hands fall on Louis’ hips, a bit lower than he normally would, but his hands brush against the wet skin and squeeze there.

Louis squeaks softly, Harry lapping their lips together slowly and fluidly as he massages his hands along Louis’ hips. Harry pulls away from Louis’ lips, just to drag his tongue across Louis’ jawline, then kissing down his neck. Harry stops when he gets to Louis’ collarbones, taking his time in slowly sucking a deep mark there. Louis moans sweetly in approval, Harry biting down on the purple mark with pink edges that he made, licking over it before turning his attention back to Louis’ lips. Louis tugs down on Harry’s neck, intensifying the kiss and growing needier.

It's almost involuntary when Harry presses his crotch against the side of Louis’ hips, so distracted by kissing Louis that he didn’t realize how hard he’d grown. Louis gasps, as most people would if a very hard penis was suddenly pressed against them. They both look at each other, Harry’s eyes a bit fearful as Louis’ are more shocked. They both look down together, seeing Harry’s hard dick, and then Harry sees Louis’ that’s hard as well. When their eyes meet again, Louis’ are filled with desperation. “’m gonna take care of you,” Harry promises, dropping his head down to Louis’ neck to kiss there, letting his hands drift to Louis’ bum and squeezing there.

Louis moans eagerly when Harry does, and Harry squeezes harder, letting his hands knead across Louis’ bum. Louis lets out more soft moans, reminding Harry of the first photoshoot of Louis’ he witnessed. How the boy was on a bed of flowers, throwing his head back and moaning to create the perfect shot. His hips jerks forward at that image, rubbing his cock against Louis’ hip.

“Oui, Harry,” Louis whines, his accent thickening from all the lust contained in the shower. The steams billows around them, the hot water pelting the tops of their heads and shoulder, dripping down their naked bodies slowly.

Harry unlatches one hand from Louis’ bum, bringing two fingers up to Louis’ mouth and dragging them across Louis’ lips. Louis lets his jaw relax, his lips parting open and Harry presses his two fingers in. Louis sucking on the fingers slowly, keeping eye contact with Harry as he does and letting his eyelashes flutter slowly.

Harry groans, Louis is so goddamn pretty and perfect in every way. He pulls his fingers back, now slippery with saliva, and using one hand to spread Louis’ bum apart. He rubs his index finger across Louis’ rim, feeling how tight the pretty boy is. A shocked sound comes from deep inside Louis’ throat, and Louis drops his head against Harry’s chest. “S'il vous plait!” Louis pleads, mouthing against Harry’s chest, kissing sloppily.

Harry presses one finger in slowly, Louis letting out what sounds like a pained moan. God, he’s so tight, even one finger is such a stretch from him, and Harry’s breath hitches in his throat as he feels the warmth and resistance from Louis’ hole as his finger is fully inside.

Louis’ legs get weak, clinging onto Harry and Harry supports his body weight. But, soon, it’s hard to rub his finger inside Louis while also holding the boy up, so he slowly lets them slide down to the shower floor. Louis throws on leg over the side of the tub, all spread out for Harry, and Harry gives himself a few moments to admire the boy. His tight, pink hole around one of Harry’s fingers, his small pretty prick, his silky thighs and stomach, everything so smooth and pretty. “Baise-moi,” Louis whines impatiently.

Harry holds the inner thigh of Louis’ legs that’s still in the tub, pushing it up and spreading the boy out even more. He wiggles in another finger next to first, Louis dropping his head back and whining. “Fuck, Louis, baby,” Harry groans, still not used to the tightness around his fingers as he slowly starts thrusting them.

“Oh mon Dieu. Oui, Harry. Ne vous arrêtez pas, s'il vous plaît, plus, j'ai besoin de plus,” Louis rambles out, sounding like nonsense to Harry but he’s sure it has some meaning. Harry only knows Louis sounds desperate, and his wiggles his hips down to meet Harry’s fingers as he whines.

Harry curls his finger, Louis’ hips jolting as he lets out a cry. “That’s your spot, yeah?” Harry mumbles, biting down his bottom lip and soaking in all of Louis’ beautiful noises and movements as he keeps his fingers curled and rubbing against Louis’ prostate.

Louis thrusts his hips up, back arching, slinging one arm over his face shyly as little whimpers fall from hip parted lips. Harry keeps a firm hold on Louis’ thigh, keeping his legs spread as they begin to shake and attempt to writhe around restlessly.

It comes as a shock to Harry when Louis comes untouched, his hips grinding down against Harry’s fingers as white beads of come splatter across his own stomach. His mouth drops open wide when he does release his load, no sound coming out besides a small squeak, his whole face overwhelmed with pleasure. Harry let’s Louis’ legs fall closed, slowing easing his fingers out of Louis’ still tight hole. He leans over the pliant boy, slotting their lips together as Louis’ trembling subsides and he recovers from his orgasm. “Can we move to the bed?” Louis asks quietly, his voice a bit quivery, as Harry finally acknowledges his own aching cock.

Harry turns off the tap, helping Louis out and only taking a few seconds to dry them both off before lifting the boy up, carrying him and laying him down gently on the bed. His legs fall open, vulnerable and submissive as Harry finds himself between them. He drops his head down to kiss Louis’ soft tummy, letting his hands wander up to Louis’ nipples to squeeze there, earning plenty of whiny sounds from Louis as he works his lips up to meet Louis’. Louis reaches down between his legs, grabbing Harry’s cock and rubbing it against his hole.

“Slow down, baby, we have all night,” Harry assures, sitting up on his knees, but reaching for the drawer anyway to grab a lube and a condom. “Do we need a condom?” Harry asks, holding onto Louis’ knee and rubbing his thumb in small circles there.

“What?” Louis asks breathlessly, bottom lip quivering as his eyes dart from Harry’s face to the man’s hard dick. He has a new sense of nervousness about him, despite being so confident and calm in the shower.

“Do we need a condom?” Harry repeats, gently. “I’m clean, are you?”

“I-I don’t know,” Louis replies back, voice wavering. His eyes are a bit glassy still from the orgasm, but his trembles seem to be from nerves now instead.

“You don’t know as in you haven’t been tested in a while or…?” Harry asks, a bit confused, but trying to understand. He sets a hand on Louis’ hip, rubbing there soothingly as he tries to keep his voice steady and calm.

“I don’t know, I haven’t done this before,” Louis replies back quickly, closing his thighs all the way and his eyes instinctively well up with tears. Harry’s a bit confused at first, thinking Louis meant he hasn’t had raw sex before, neither has Harry. But Louis’ reaction quickly hits Harry with the realization, and he scoots back to give Louis some space and sitting on the edge of the bed. The dynamics have changed so quickly, to an openly vulnerable boy to an embarrassed one.

“You’re a virgin?” Harry asks, and Louis whines, reaching for the sheets and hiding his body with them, and hiding his face with his hands. “Surely, you’ve done some things, yeah?” Harry asks, trying to smooth over the conversation as he reaches to rub Louis’ arm.

“Nothing, Harry. Before you, the only people I kissed were for photoshoots,” Louis admits, rubbing his eyes with his bundled up fists. “I didn’t want to make a big deal out of this, I wanted to do it and that be it,” Louis whines, sitting up with his body still covered with the sheets. But, Harry can see the mark he made on the boy’s collarbone earlier, and it’s so pretty.

“I’m the first person you’ve properly kissed?” Harry asks, wondering how a beautiful boy hasn’t found anybody before him.

Louis grumbles something in French, looking down as Harry reaches for his hands to hold them in his own. “I’ve kissed plenty of people, but you’re the first person I’ve kissed because I actually like you,” Louis says, squeezing his eyes shut as Harry looks at him with fondness and concern. He feels a rush of guilt as he’s just fingered Louis in the shower, but how would he had known? He should’ve known how the boy oozes of innocence, from his strawberry lips and blushing cheeks, to his tight hole and vulnerable nature.

“Well we can just talk about it then, okay? We don’t have to do anything,” Harry insists, trying to ignore his erection. “You’ve… you’ve watched porn, yeah?” Harry asks awkwardly, not sure how to have this conversation.

“The story lines are bad, I always stop before anything happens,” Louis mumbles, his accent thickening.

“What do you do to get off?” Harry asks, more curious now. Surely, Louis’ masturbated, but Harry forces that thought out of his mind when he starts imagining Louis spread out on his bed with his fingers curled inside himself, the same way Harry’s were earlier.

“Recently? I think of you,” Louis admits softly, and it sends a wave of heat to Harry’s dick that he tries his best to ignore. Fuck, how does he always say the right things?

“M-Maybe we should watch some porn. So, if we do end up doing something, there’ll be no surprises,” Harry suggests, glancing around for his laptop.

“Maybe I want you to surprise me,” Louis says shyly, fluttering his eyelashes and looking up at Harry. Harry bites down his bottom lip, hesitating before slipping his hand under the covers as Louis watches. He rubs his two fingers over Louis’ rim, Louis letting out a shaky breath. Harry pulls away though, worried he’s rushing Louis into something he’s not ready for as he feels the same sense of guilt.

“Harry, I want this, I want you, please,” Louis pleads, reaching out for Harry. “I’m asking you to take it, please, I want it to be you,” Louis insists, repeating the same words in French as the boy’s nerves slowly seem to fade away.

“Louis, you tell me the second it becomes too much, okay? Please?” Harry asks, Louis quickly nodding his head.

Harry’s heart flutters as he joins Louis under the sheets, Louis letting his knees fall open and Harry settling in between the boy’s thighs. He rubs his hands along Louis’ thighs for a few moments, taking in him and all his beauty in until Louis whines quietly. “Patience,” Harry whispers, applying another layer of lube to his cock as a precaution before lining himself up.

 “It’s going to hurt, but I’m going to push in real slow. Let me know if it’s too much,” Harry says, pleading a bit. He takes in a deep breath, preparing himself to take the virginity of this sweet boy underneath him. “You really want this?” Harry asks one last time, Louis nodding and seeming very sure of himself.

“I’ve dreamt about this,” Louis whispers, Harry letting out a deeper whine of his own.

“Tell me what happened in your dream,” Harry requests, trying to distract the boy as he lines up his cock, focusing on Louis’ face and watching it morph from pain to pleasure as he slowly pushes in. Louis’ biting down on his bottom lip, eyes squeezed shut, cheeks flushed as he’s being stretched out by a dick for the very first time. “Tell me, baby,” Harry whispers, swallowing back his own sounds of pleasure.

“I-it was like this. On a soft bed, you moving in me slowly at first. Then faster, faster, faster,” Louis pauses, moaning as Harry inches his cock in a bit more. “Ah, ah, Harry, mon amour,” Louis whimpers. Harry struggles to support himself, knees going weak as Louis’ tight hole takes in his cock, slowly pushing in more and more.

“Keep going,” Harry encourages, squeezing Louis’ side as the boy’s hole is tight around Harry’s cock, making it hard from him to stay still.

“Harder, faster, until you filled me up, and made me feel so good,” Louis whimpers out, feeling the stretch and feeling Harry’s dick fill him up so nicely.

“That’s a good dream,” Harry groans as he bottoms out, balls pressed against Louis’ bum. Louis lets out a trembling breath, Harry dropping down to forearms, resting them on either side of Louis. Harry kisses Louis gently, Louis whining into Harry’s mouth. “Feel good?” Harry asks, pressing kisses along Louis’ jaw and down his neck, sucking a few hickey’s down the boy’s neck.

“Incroyable, Harry. J'ai besoin de plus, s'il te plaît. J'ai besoin de toi, j'ai besoin de ta bite,” Louis rambles out, wrapping his legs around Harry’s waist and pressing his hips down. Harry smiles, his dimples surely showing as he brushes his fingers against Louis’ cheeks.

“Does that mean it feels good?” Harry asks, chuckling, and Louis nods quickly.

Harry pulls out, before pressing back in slowly. Louis gasps, and Harry repeats the action. Louis whines, his face relaxed in pure bliss. Harry continues with those thrusts, whining lowly as his hole clenches around Harry’s large dick. Harry groans, feeling the pleasure running up his dick through his whole body.

“Plus vite, plus vite s'il vous plait,” Louis pleads. “Faster, Harry,” Louis whines, needing Harry to understand. Harry resists listening to Louis. All he wants is to fuck Louis, but he keeps up his gentle thrusts, needing to take care of the boy beneath him. Surely, Louis’ dream will soon turn into reality, as Harry’s bound to pick up the pace.

Louis still soaks it all up, plenty of moans and slurs of incoherent words flow from his mouth as Harry’s dick continues to stretch him out. His hands find their way into Harry’s hair, pulling there gently as Harry fills him up deeply.  

Harry’s low groans blend with Louis’ high-pitched whines, Harry digging his knees into the mattress as he thrusts into Louis’ hole with a bit more force. This earns a sharp gasp from Louis, but his following moans show he likes it, and it fuels Harry to do it again, and again, and again. Louis’ chest lifts up and down quickly, wiggling his hips as he whines with every breath. Harry cups Louis’ face, looking into his eyes and seeing the pleasure consume him. Harry angles his hips up, Louis yelping and Harry knows he hit the boy’s prostate. “That felt good, yeah?” Harry mutters, grinding his hips into Louis.

“Oui, oh god,” Louis cries out, arching his back and whining as he grinds his hips down to meet Harry’s hips. Harry drops down to suck on Louis’ bottom lip, the two of them moaning as Harry finally gives in and quickens his pace.

Harry feels his orgasm nearing, quickening and hardening his pace, Louis tightening around him. Louis sobs, bucking his hips up and coming, his stomach covered in his sticky come. “Fuck, fuck, Louis,” Harry groans at Louis coming untouched, pounding into the whimpering boy a few more times before filling him up with his own come. Harry has warm tears of his own in his eyes, blinking them away before they can slip out, and instead focusing on wiping Louis’ tears away instead.

Harry pulls out, dropping down next to Louis and reaching out to pull him against his chest. His body feels heavy with pleasure, but he still manages to find the strength to pull Louis close, kissing his cheeks and the tears of pleasure that roll down them. “Je t'aime,” Louis whispers quietly, voice cracking and holding onto Harry.

Harry smiles, knowing what that means. “Je t'aime,” Harry replies, probably butchering the pronunciation. But, the way Louis glows with happiness, Harry doesn’t think it matters much.

            Louis stays quiet for some time after that, Harry fetching a cloth to wipe them off, pulling the covers over them snugly and rubbing Louis’ back comfortingly. Louis curls up against Harry’s chest, his cool breath hitting the man’s skin. Louis occasionally presses a kiss to Harry’s chest, as if to let Harry know he’s still awake, he’s still here. Harry wants to ask a million questions, make sure Louis’ feeling alright and that it was perfect for him. But the silence seems suitable, and he doesn’t want to risk ruining an already perfect night. So, he runs his hands through Louis’ hair and holds him close until Louis’ chest kisses cease and he drifts off to sleep.

            Louis is quite a bit clingier the next day, or maybe Harry’s overanalyzing. Louis holds onto Harry in bed longer, even though he knows Harry has work. He frowns much more than he normally does when it’s finally time for Harry to leave, and kisses the man a lot longer at the door.

            And when Harry comes home after work, Louis is still there, which is a bit unusual as he normally disappears and comes back after Harry’s settled home from work. But, Harry finds the boy napping in his bed, and Harry decides to join him for a little lie down. Louis’ clearly awake though, nuzzling against Harry’s chest and sighing contently.

            “Can… can we do it again?” Louis asks quietly after a few minutes of them lying together, the sun setting outside their window. Harry opens his eyes, seeing the shy boy look up at him.

            “You want to?” Harry asks with a smile, Louis nodding quickly in response to his question. Harry rolls on top of Louis, pulling the sheets over their head and disappearing from the world for a bit.

            Louis is amazing in bed, and he doesn’t even try. It amazes Harry. He makes pretty sounds and whines Harry’s name, he wiggles his hips and clenches around Harry’s cock at all the right times. He’s pliant and needy, and really loves Harry’s dick.

            When Harry teaches Louis how to give a blowjob, he expects it to go terribly wrong and end in him kissing Louis all over. Instead, Louis effortlessly takes Harry’s cock in his mouth and rubs his tongue against all the right places to make Harry come in only a few minutes. And when he does, Louis swallows with ease.

            And that’s what Louis’ doing now, bending over Harry’s lap with his bum in the air to suck Harry’s cock. Harry runs his hands through the boy’s hair as he drops his head back against the couch cushions. He slowly rolls his hips up into the boy’s mouth a few times before coming down his throat with a strained groan, Louis pulls away to swallow and swipe his tongue across the corners of his mouth.

            Louis slumps against Harry’s side, Harry wrapping a loose arm around him and using his free hand to pull up his boxers.

            “Hey, Louis?” Harry asks gently, the boy tucking himself under Harry’s arm. Louis hums, looking up at Harry. “What are we?” The question rings in the air for a few seconds.

            “We’re us, silly,” Louis responds, a sweet smile on his deep pink lips.

            “C’mon, Lou,” Harry insists softly.

            “What? Afraid I’m going to run away?” Louis teases, dismissively. “I’m yours, and you’re mine, that’s all there is to it,” Louis adds in, a bit more seriously. It doesn’t full satisfy Harry’s question, he’d very much like to refer to Louis as his boyfriend, but this is suitable as well.

            “You’re mine,” Harry repeats, smiling and he leans in to kiss Louis’ cheek. “I’m going to order something for dinner, what would you like?” Harry asks, reaching for his phone.

            “”M not hungry,” Louis says, then mumbling something about a shower and disappearing into Harry’s room. Harry furrows his brows, but shrugs it off as he opts for a microwave meal instead.

            Louis disappears for a few days, and Harry tries his best to let it not bother him. He goes to work, works on some articles, avoids his boss pestering him about Louis. But, at the end of the day he still rushes home to wait for Louis, who doesn’t show up. So, he eats a microwave meal, jacks off in a long hot shower, and goes to bed only to repeat it the next day.

            It’s another day at work, day four sine he’s seen Louis when he gets a call off of his work phone. It’s strange, people rarely call him as nobody ever needs him for anything, but he answers it, bringing it up to his ear. “Hello?” Harry says.

            “Harry?” A small, fluttering voice speaks with a French accent.

            “Louis?” Harry asks lowly, darting his eyes to make sure nobody is paying any attention to him. He realizes this is the first time he’s ever heard Louis speak over the phone, he sounds smaller. “What’s going on?”

            “I can’t do this,” Louis whines on the other line, and Harry’s ear is filled with the sound of sniffling. Harry’s heart stops beating and his hands feel a little clammy.

            “Do what, Louis?” Harry asks, biting down on the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood.

            “My manager wants me to lose five pounds, I can’t.” There’s more sniffling and rustling, and Harry can imagine the tears rolling down his cheeks.

            “Where are you right now?” Harry asks, holding the phone between his ear and shoulder as he stands up, packing things away in his suitcase quickly. Louis mumbles something about a park, and Harry’s sure it has to be Central Park, and he’s out of the office in a flash; But it’s hard to ignore the smirk his boss has on his face as he leaves.

            Harry can’t get a cab, so he ends up jogging, more like running, the ten blocks to the park. His lungs burn from the cold air filling his lungs with his panting, but the pain dullens when he sees Louis on the bench they sat at together weeks ago. He’s wearing plain blue jeans and a plain oversized, black, coat. His eyes are rimmed red, from the cold and possibly crying, but they lighten up when he sees Harry approaching him.

            Louis stands up as Harry walks over, and Harry embraces him in a tight hug. He squeezes so hard that Louis ends up on his tippy toes, Harry lifting him up ever so slightly to bring him closer. Harry smells the faint scent of smoke in Louis’ hair and coat, lingering in the air around him. Harry peers over Louis’ shoulder to see a few people with big cameras a couple hundred yards away, and it takes him a few moments before he realizes they’re paparazzi.

            “Let’s get you inside somewhere,” Harry insists, whispering in the boy’s ear and wrapping his arm around his waist to pull him towards a nice looking deli on the corner.

            Harry orders at the counter while Louis takes a seat by the window, taking off his coat. Harry comes back with the food, inspecting Louis. His collarbones seem a bit more prominent and his shoulders seem a bit more pointy, or maybe Harry’s eyes are playing tricks on him, he can’t really tell which it is. He hands the hot soup over to Louis with a spoon and slice of white bread. Louis eats it as he normally does, and Harry’s worries subside a bit.

            “What are you going to do?” Harry asks eventually, when Louis’ bowl of soup is half-empty. Louis sighs, looking up from his food and at Harry for the first time.

            “I don’t know… they can’t ruin my career if I don’t, I don’t think,” Louis mutters, playing with the handle of his spoon between his fingers as his eyelids droop down tiredly. “Maybe I’ll manage myself for a bit, I don’t know,” Louis mumbles, sighing. “In France, they have regulations. You cannot be underweight and be a model, in America they think the skinnier the better,” Louis complains, dropping his head down to stare at his lap.

            “We can come up with a plan together, okay? I’ll take a look at your contract and help you figure things out,” Harry promises, and Louis nods, picking up his spoon and finishing off the rest of his bowl of soup.

            They walk home to Harry’s apartment, hand in hand. Louis blinks long and slow, some dark bags starting to appear under his eyes. The strong winter breeze blows trash around their feet, dirt and dust spiraling in the street as the shield their faces from the breeze. Harry lifts up his coat, tucking Louis underneath is as they round a corner.

When they get to Harry’s place, Harry draws up a nice hot bath for Louis, adding lots of soap to create lavender smelling bubbles. “Aren’t you joining me?” Louis asks, sounding a bit disappointed when Harry heads towards the bathroom door. Louis drops his clothes, stepping into the scolding water and letting it heat up his insides.

Harry pulls his own clothes off, slipping in to sit across from the boy, bubbles making it impossible for them to see anything below the waist. Before Harry can pull the boy closer, he’s already climbing onto his lap and settling there. Their wet skin glides against one another, Louis settling onto Harry’s lap.

“Hey, Lou?” Harry asks, Louis looking over and tilting his head to the side. “You don’t have an, uh, eating disorder, do you?” Harry asks nervously, wrapping his arms loosely around Louis’ waist. Louis shakes his head quickly. “You’d tell me if you did, right? So, I can help?” Harry continues to question, unable to hide his concern as he runs his hands along Louis’ thin waist and small arms. Louis’ always been this petite, dainty arms, slender waist, with a plump bum and toned thighs. But, Harry can’t help but worry.

“I’m okay,” Louis insists, and he sounds sincere so Harry drops the subject, and they hold onto each other until the hot water turns lukewarm.

The next day Harry goes to work, and there seems to be a new sense of excitement and hustle as he walks in, but he decides to ignore it and continue on his own projects as well. Maybe a celebrity is pregnant or a politician said something ridiculous, as they often do, and everyone was excited over that. Regardless, Harry can’t bring himself to care.

He goes about his day, going back to his usual black coffee this morning and sipping the bitter liquid as his computer slowly whir’s to a start. He cracks his knuckles before typing away on his keyboard, occasionally glancing at his boss’ office to find him watching from the window. It sends a shiver up his spine, but he ignores it, getting back to work. He knows getting fired is impending, but luckily he has a few job interviews next month lined up if something does happen.

The energy slowly dies down by the end of the day, and Harry finally heads home, some co-workers looking at him strangely as he walks through the cubicles to the exit. Harry shrugs it off, maybe some people are still off-put by the pictures of them that came out a couple weeks ago.   

He gets home right before Louis normally stops by in the evenings, he’s late because he stopped to grab some donuts as a treat for the two of them. However, an hour passes and Harry decides Louis isn’t coming over tonight. He can’t pretend like he’s not worried, because he is. He occupies himself with cleaning his apartment until it’s late enough to go to bed. But, right when he’s getting ready to go under the covers, there’s a knock at the door.

He runs down the hall, hoping it’s Louis, and when he opens it surely is. Although, Louis’ face is all twisted up in anger and he’s clutching onto a magazine. He pushes past Harry, their shoulders clashing against each other and it nearly causes Harry to fall over. Louis flips open to a page, shoving the article in his face. “What the hell is this?” He exclaims, his cheeks tinted pink only they’re from anger this time instead of being shy and cute.

Harry’s heart pounds in his chest as he skims over the article as best he can. Leaked footage of Louis Tomlinson with partner getting cuddly in Central Park weeks ago … Louis confides in Harry Styles that his manager is making him lose weight … anorexia … The couple found in Central Park hugging … and then there’s lots of pictures of them. “H-how did they find out all of this?” Harry asks, eyes wide as he looks at Louis’ face, still fuming.

“You tell me! You’re the one who wrote,” Louis shouts, pointing to the ‘by Harry Styles’ written underneath the title. Harry shakes his head quickly, hearing sirens and panic erupt in his brain.

“Louis, no, no, no, I didn’t write this. Please, you have to believe me,” Harry pleads, and his throat begins to tighten up and his chest feels heavy.

“I trusted you, I trusted you,” Louis repeats, his voice fading from anger to pure betrayal. “Je t'aimais, je t'ai donné tout ce que j'avais. C'est comme ça que tu me rembourse? I gave you everything,” Louis whispers, heading towards the door, Harry reaches out, grabbing his wrist and trying to make one last plea.

“Ne me touche pas!” Louis yells, snatching his hand away and rushing out the door, throwing the magazine over his shoulder and it lands at Harry’s feet.  

Harry spends the night crying, and reading the article over and over until his eyes burn from all the salty tears and the reading. He didn’t write this, he didn’t write any of it. The conversation he had on the phone with Louis was private, and even if someone overhearing was jotting down notes, they didn’t hear a word Louis said. How could…

Harry bursts into his boss’ office the next morning, his boss doesn’t look very surprised. “You tapped my phone line,” Harry accuses, fellow co-workers poking their heads up to watch the scene unfold.

“You finally figured it out. If you were smart, you would have written the article yourself,” John replies, crossing his arms in his chair. Harry stomps over, getting in the man’s face and pointing his finger angrily.

“I am going to ruin your career and drag you through hell,” Harry threatens, feeling his anger boil over. This man potentially sabotaged his entire career. But, most importantly, he took Louis from him. He took the most beautiful and wonderful part of his life away from him.

“Get out of my face.”

“Make me,” Harry tests. And when John pushes Harry’s shoulders roughly, Harry takes that as an excuse to punch the older man square in his face, nearly knocking him out of his chair. John doesn’t go down without a fight, making his way around the desk and punch Harry straight in the jaw. Harry gets in a few more punches in his blind rage and fury before a group of people are grabbing him, pulling him out of the office anyway that he can.

Harry gladly walks himself out, nose a bit bloody, the right side of his lower face turning deep purple, and his knuckles deeply bruised as he walks angrily down the cold New York streets. Nobody looks at him strangely, as nothing phases New Yorkers when they have somewhere to be. He enters another office building, wandering through the cubicles and feeling just as lost as he does wandering through his own office. He stops when he finds a big office, walking in without a knock.

He pulls a tape recorder out of pocket, slamming it down on the desk, starting the woman who he assumes is the boss. “I have recorded evidence that the news source that posted the article about Louis Tomlinson yesterday gathered information by illegally recording phone conversations and writing it under someone else’s name.” The woman blinks a few times, scanning Harry’s bruised face and trail of blood trickling down his nose.

“Well, sit down then, sir. Let’s discuss details,” She requests after recovering from the initial shock, Harry sitting in a chair across the desk from hers.

After a few hours of interviews and questioning Harry ends up back on the streets of the city, his feet automatically carrying himself to Louis’ apartment. He knocks on the wooden door, his jaw and heart aching. “Louis, please,” Harry begs, biting his bottom lip to keep tears from coming out.

After thirty minutes of pleading, he tells himself Louis’ just not home. So, he sits down at the doorstep, closing his eyes and…

Harry’s not sure when he fell asleep or how long it’s been, but he’s waken up to cold water being poured on his face. He sits up straight, an imprint on the side of his face from Louis’ welcome mat that he was sleeping on. He wipes the water from his eyes, looking up to see Louis standing there with a now empty glass of water. “Go away,” is all Louis says.

“Louis, please. My boss tapped my phone, he wrote the article under my name. I got proof and TMZ is writing an article about it with the information I gave them,” Harry explains quickly, sticking his arm in the door as Louis starts to close it. Louis’ face softens when he sees Harry’s bloody nose and bruised face.

“I’m tired of articles. I want spoken words from you,” Louis spits out, leaving the door open as he walks into his apartment. Harry scrambles to stand up, following after him. Louis motions for Harry to sit on the couch, and Louis paces in front of him. Louis’ wearing a white slip dress, an intimate pair of pajamas that he must’ve changed into before confronting Harry. Or maybe he was sleeping when Harry was knocking.

“What else am I supposed to say? I told you the truth,” Harry asks hopelessly, slumping against the couch in defeat.

“How am I supposed to be with you when your journalist friends would do anything to get information about me?” Louis asks, his arms crossed and his pacing doesn’t cease.

“We can be more careful, I can… I’ll quit. I can quit and work for a more local paper,” Harry suggests desperately, Louis shaking his head.

“You’re not quitting your dream job for me.”

“It’s not my dream, it’s not,” Harry insists, feeling on the verge of tears and he crawls over to Louis, dropping to the boy’s feet and stopping him in his path. Harry wraps his arms around his thighs, pressing his cheek against Louis’ soft skin and a few tears roll down his cheek.

With a sigh, Louis sinks down, Harry loosening his grip to let Louis sit down in front of him. “Je t'aime mon amour,” Louis whispers, dropping his forehead against Harry’s and squeezing his eyes shut. “But, I don’t want you to end up resenting me for being the reason you quit,” Louis adds on quietly, sniffling and holding back a few tears of his own.

“I won’t, I won’t. Louis, my job makes me so unhappy, I want to do this,” Harry begs, feeling the burn in his throat as tears threaten to spill down his cheeks.

“Harry, I think you should go,” Louis says quietly, his voice cracking as he stands up, pressing a tiny fist against his mouth to hide his trembling lip. Harry stands up next to him, reaching an arm out but Louis turns his back to him, choking back a sob. Harry bores his eyes into Louis’ petite frame for a few minutes before forcing himself to walk out, his throat too dry and numb to beg.

Harry quits his job, working for a small paper in Long Island. He’s also working with a friend to launch a website where he can publish more of his political articles.

Louis ends up going on a talk show to speak out about the pressures to lose weight in the modelling industry, the first time the general public has heard him speak. His success skyrockets even more than it was already, and he quite literally is everywhere. Louis did an emotional and raw photoshoot, or at least that’s what all the headlines label it as. In the pictures, his eye makeup is smudged, black mascara tears rolling down his cheeks, eyes puffy. It’s a close up of that, still looking beautiful with his clear skin and caved in cheeks bones on perfect display. Harry sees that picture on every magazine, every billboard, every commercial, every news station. He stays up late until two a.m crying over it, looking into Louis’ eyes and seeing the pain.

Harry occupies himself with his website, his heart still dropping when an ad with Louis’ face pops up, feeling another swell of tears. Louis closes and opens for many fashion shows, Harry always staying up late to watch live streams and wait for the high-quality pictures to come back. His heart swoons every time, followed by the pain. The pain he gets in his chest when he thinks of Louis.

Louis’ beautiful and radiant in every picture, even in the sad ones. Pictures taken by backstage staff of an event show Louis crying at his makeup table, Louis’ manager and team staying quiet on the matter, but plenty of theories arise and people piece together the fact that Harry and Louis haven’t been spotted together since the article.

It motivates Harry to finish his website, be successful. He needs to be successful and prove to Louis that he chooses Louis, that he’s happy.

His website ends up being a success, most people knowing him as Louis’ ex-love affair. But, that draws attention to his site, and soon actual political enthusiasts begin reading it. Harry still resists from going to Louis’ apartment, trying to not seem so pathetically desperate although he is.

Harry keeps doing the same thing every day, hoping that the strict schedule will drone out his longing for Louis. He wakes up, drinks coffee (never tea), goes to work, comes home, cooks himself dinner, takes a long shower and jacks off, go to bed, and repeat. He always makes sure he’s doing something, but he can’t help the fact that Louis’ always on his mind.

Weeks later, Harry’s old boss ends up leaking the video of their fight. Harry’s sure John expected good feedback, but it only resulted in more negative comments. Harry ignores the support he gets, and he receives multiple comments on his website asking if him and Louis are still together. It’s too painful to look at, and one night he ends up slamming his laptop screen, rubbing his eyes and rubbing one out in his pants before going to sleep again.

“It’s important to do what makes you happy, be with who makes you happy. D-don’t settle in life, it’s too short and beautiful to settle,” Louis’ French accent flows out of Harry’s television speakers, sounding a bit nervous as it’s still only his second interview ever given.

This is the third time Harry’s rewatched it, eyes burning from the bright tv screen and those words ringing through his head. Did Harry not make him happy? Was everything made up in his head?

The next day Harry wakes up to pictures of Louis getting into a car with an up and coming fashion designer, Zayn Malik. It’s Sunday, and his plans are to lay in bed and feel sorry for himself. There’s a knock at the door that jolts him out of bed, rushing to answer it, a small twinge of hope that maybe it’s… it’s Liam.

“Hey, buddy, haven’t heard from you in awhile,” Liam says with a sympathetic smile, the two making their way to the couch for a little catch up. “How’s it going?”

“It’s going,” Harry says simply, shrugging as he tugs at his sweatpants that he hasn’t washed in over a week. They’ve accumulated new stains and crusty drops of food.

“Come on, Harry, talk to me,” Liam says, lips pressed together in a pitiful smile.

“What am I supposed to say? It’s been weeks, I’ve lost him,” Harry mumbles, pinching the bridge of his nose and urging the tears to get sucked back up into his eyes.

“But, you’ve got your website, yeah? And a new job, that’s good,” Liam says optimistically, patting Harry on the shoulder a few times before letting his hand drop back to his own side. “Why don’t we go to a bar tonight, have some fun?” Liam suggests, Harry immediately shaking his head. “What are you going to do, then? Sit here all night in your disgusting sweatpants. He’s gone, Harry, he’s moving on,” Liam says, a bit harsh and Harry’s not quite sure he’s ready to hear those words.

“Fuck you,” he mumbles, shuffling back into his room to change for the bar.

“Come on, man, you gotta pick up the pace!” Liam explains, ordering his third round when Harry isn’t even halfway done with his first beer. Harry takes a big sip, some of the foam collecting on his upper lip, and he wipes it away. He glances across the room to see a nice looking man staring back, winking. Harry smiles, turning his attention back to Liam. “Go talk to him, get yourself laid,” Liam suggests, but it more sounds like a demand.

“No, no, I agreed to drinking, that’s it,” Harry says, settling himself further into the booth, set on the idea that he’s not moving. However, that doesn’t matter, as pretty boy is making his way over here.

“Hi, I’m Nick,” Pretty boy, Nick, says with a cheeky grin and reaches his hand out to Harry, ignoring Liam.

“Nice to meet you, ‘M Harry,” he introduces, shaking the man’s hand and apparently that was an invitation to sit with him, because he is now. He scoots a little bit too close and his breath smells of scotch, but Harry’s probably smells of beer.

“So, what do you do for a living, Harry?” When he says his name it just sounds wrong, it shouldn’t be coming out like that from Nick. It shouldn’t be all flirty and suggestive coming from someone that’s not…

“I’m a journalist,” Harry replies, taking a sip of his beer.

“That is so cool. You know, I have this collection of old political articles from the forties. I live right upstairs if you want to check them out.” Nick is very straight to the point, but Harry agrees, knowing well that there won’t be any articles or if there were they won’t be talking about them for long.

When they get up to the apartment, Nick doesn’t turn on the lights, instead he pulls Harry close and kisses his lips roughly. It feels wrong, but Harry kisses back, warming up to Liam’s suggestion and deciding maybe a one-night stand won’t be too bad. Maybe… when he closes his eyes he sees Louis’ face, his sweet beautiful face. These lips aren’t his and the hand on his crotch isn’t his either.

It gets escalated as they’re led to the couch, Nick lying himself down and pulling Harry on top of them.

“I can’t,” Harry mumbles, pulling away breathlessly, stumbling his way off the couch and running his hands through his messy hair. “I love someone else,” Harry confesses.

“Then why are you here?” Nick asks, and Harry doesn’t quite have an answer but the suitable response in his mind is to leave. Which is what he does, smoothing down his pants as he jogs down the steps, waking up from his state of brief reckless behavior when the cold air practically slaps him in the face.

“Fucking idiot, fucking Liam, fucking everything,” Harry grumbles, heading back home instead of back to the bar to be criticized by Liam and potentially running into Nick again. He punishes himself for his idiotic behavior by making himself walk in the cold instead of grabbing a cab.

He thinks of Louis, no surprise there, as he’s alone with his thoughts. More specifically, he thinks about the first time Louis saw his dick, and how shy he was touching it. Then he thinks about taking Louis’ virginity, and every time they made love after that. He closes his eyes for a brief moment to see Louis’ face, his lips parted and cheeks flushed, the most beautiful sight. When he opens his eyes, Harry can’t help but wonder if Louis’ been with someone else, maybe that Zayn guy. Harry fucking hates Zayn, he can’t help but be jealous of every other person who gets to touch Louis or be with him

It’s freezing cold and by the time he’s finally safely instead his flat, his nose is hard and frozen, his lips chapped.

He flops down on the couch, plays with himself, and wonders where Louis is.

Louis is in Paris for fashion week, or at least that’s what the latest article about him informs Harry. He’s doing six different shows. Every day after work, Harry takes a nap, and then stays up late to watch streams of the shows. He’s basically living on Paris time by the end of the week, beaming with misplaced pride as he sees Louis strutting down catwalks.

Louis wears big poofy ballgowns with intricate patterns, to simple trousers with big diamonds covering his cute nipples. Each time, Harry hears the audience applaud more when he walks out. Louis’ pouty lips, arched brows, soft eyes, sharp cheek bones, he’s perfect. He’s perfect in more ways than his looks.

He’s sweet and soft with quite a bit of spunk, speaking his mind with a bit of sass. He’s also gentle and loving, nuzzling into Harry in the late hours of the night and early hours of the morning. He’s lively and bright, bring so much light into Harry’s life.

When the final stream of the week ends, Harry closes the laptop screen, letting out a shaky breath before curling himself around a Louis-sized pillow and going to bed.

Harry wakes up to an empty bed, again, the sun pouring in through the blinds and missing the way the rays looked spread across Louis’ golden skin. He misses Louis’ soft morning cuddles, reluctance to let Harry go to work. Harry wonders why he ever left, he should have stayed in bed with Louis every single day.

With nothing keeping him there, he trudges out of his bed to get the day started. He starts with a cold shower to get himself going, walking through the apartment naked to turn on his coffee pot, before getting dressed. It’s casual Friday, so Harry goes with a nice pair of jeans and a simple black button down that he tucks in, toeing on his shoes before heading back to the kitchen. He grabs one of his Starbucks travelling mugs, pouring in the black coffee, grabbing a banana, his brief case, and pulling on a coat before heading out for the day.

The cold air cools his coffee down enough that he’s able to drink it when he’s sat on the train, and it’s the perfect system. He drinks his warm, bitter coffee, and eats his banana on the twenty-minute ride. His eyes stop dropping closed as frequently as he consumes more and more coffee, and he’s feeling awake when he finally steps out, walking a few blocks to the two-story building where he works.

His day is slow and calm, as every day is. Nothing too hectic ever happens, which Harry truly is content with. It gives him a nice environment to write his articles, researching what local politicians are saying, and summarizing it for the readers as well as adding his own liberal analysis. The cubicles aren’t stacked practically on top of each other like at Harry’s old job, and he has room to breathe, and doesn’t hear to person next to him breathing anymore.

His boss appreciates him, which is a first. Nearly all of his articles get published, his boss praising him on her way to her office. Harry can’t help but wish Louis was here to see how well things are going, that Harry’s happy and doing well. And, as if the angels above heard him and decided to torture him, his boss walks out of her office with an announcement, grabbing everyone’s attention.

“We don’t normally have a lot of excitement around here, but, I just got off the phone with someone very interesting who wants to do an exclusive interview with us!” Everyone perks up, straightening in their chairs and wondering who’ll be honored with this assignment. “I’m turning this over to the entertainment department, as we don’t have a fashion section,” Harry’s heart stops, his eyes going a bit wide as he looks over at the cluster of cubicles that belong to the entertainment department, the group celebrating quietly.

“Louis Tomlinson is on his way over right now, and I want the entertainment department in the big conference room, quickly brainstorming ideas before he comes,” She requests, and of course the biggest conference room is in perfect view of Harry, and he looks over to the glass-walled room as people file into it.

Why would Louis choose this little paper? Unless he knows Harry works here, and Harry finds himself cursing under his breath, shaking his breath and probably looking a bit strange to his co-workers as he tugs at his hair.

“Fuck it,” Harry mumbles, pretending to focus on his article but his head snaps towards the door every time there’s some sort of movement in that direction. After doing that about fifteen times, the sixteenth head-snap Harry is looking at Louis.

Louis’ eyes scan the room slowly until his eyes fall on Harry, lips curling into sly smile, only looking away when the man he’s with holds on his arm, leading them both towards Harry’s boss who’s approaching him. Harry squints his eyes, knowing the man holding onto Louis is probably a security guard based on his attire, but being unable to still feel boiling jealousy.

Louis’ glowing, shrugging off his knee-length coat to expose one of his signature satin slip dresses. His legs seemingly endless as he’s wearing simple white heels along with his magenta slip dress. Then, suddenly, they’re walking closer to Harry, towards the conference room next to his cubicle. Louis’ holding onto the man’s forearm to assist him in walking in the heels, Harry’s bosses rambling out compliments and ‘thank you’s. Louis nods sweetly, looking through his eye lashes at Harry, biting down on his bottom when he passes by, slipping into the conference room. The security guard is stood outside the door, Louis’ coat in hand.

Harry forces himself to spin his chair back around after some intense eye contact with Louis, Louis tilting his chin down, his eyes dark and a bit mysterious. Harry sees them in his mind every time he blinks, trying his best to watch an interview the Governor of New York did this morning so he can write about it, but it’s nearly impossible.

Eventually, he gives up and turns back around to watch the interview take place, not feeling creepy as many people from other departments are doing the same thing. Louis’ collarbones are on display, and Harry remembers when they used to be decorated with marks.

Louis’ lips are covered in a peach gloss, shimmering in the fluorescent light of the conference room as he speaks, the entertainment department jotting down notes despite also having a tape recorder. An hour of staring at Louis longingly later, the interview ends, Louis having his hand shook by everyone, looking past them through the windows at Harry.

When Louis finally steps out, his security guard right next to him, Louis pauses in front of Harry. He opens his mouth, but no words come out, and he sighs instead, letting his security guard lead him to the exit and leaving Harry feeling worse than he was before.

Harry gets home, annoyed, throwing his shoes into the closet a bit more aggressively than he should. Pulling off his shirt, and he ends up ripping off a few buttons, stripping down naked and taking a hot shower. He leans one hand against the cold tile wall, supporting himself as he roughly tugs at his cock, pulling an orgasm out of himself quickly before stepping out of the shower.

            He gets an itching feeling in his throat as he pulls on some sweats and a sweater, sighing to himself as he pulls out a pack of cigarettes from his sock drawer and a lighter. He opens up his window, thinking he’ll just smoke by the open window, but finding himself pulling on a coat and jumping out the window onto the fire escape. He climbs up the stairs slowly, still scared of the way the steps creak underneath him. When he slides over the ledge onto the roof, he’s shocked to see a small figure curled up in a blanket, smoke rising from them.

            The figure sits up, and it’s Louis, smoke pouring from his mouth with a cigarette of his own in his hand. “I’m glad you still come up here,” Is the first thing Louis says, the first thing he’s said to Harry in weeks. Harry doesn’t have the heart to tell him this is his first time coming up here alone.

            Louis lays back down on his back, Harry walking over to join him, everything feeling familiar again as Louis passes him the cigarette, taking a slow drag before opening his mouth to let the smoke slowly roll out. “Congratulations on your website,” Louis says, and Harry goes back to his thoughts from earlier, maybe Louis’ been keeping tabs on him just as much as Harry has been doing with him. “I’ve read all your articles.” And Harry feels less pathetic, not that Louis’ pathetic in any way, but knowing he’s been interested in Harry’s life as well makes the man feel better for being so obsessed with Louis’.

            “Thank you, I’ve been keeping up with all your shoots and shows,” Harry admits, passing the cigarette back after one last drag, Louis holding it between his sweet lips that probably taste like smoke instead of strawberries right now. Harry knows they’d still taste wonderfully despite that.

            Louis lets his hand drop down next to Harry’s on the concrete in between them, brushing the back of their hands against one another as he sucks in a cloud of smoke. Harry crosses their wrists, intertwining their fingers, and Louis sighs contently as smoke pours out of his mouth. Louis rubs the cigarette out on the concrete, Harry lighting another one and putting it between his own lips.

            Louis grabs it out of Harry’s lips before he can take a drag, leaning over Harry and kissing him with sad desperation. Louis tastes like honey, much to Harry’s surprise, but he soaks in his with their hands tangled and lips locked before Louis pulls away, breath unsteady.

            “What are we?” He whispers, the question very familiar to Harry, it sounding weird coming out of Louis instead of himself. “What are we, Harry?” Louis whispers, a bit more desperately as Harry looks into Louis’ glassy eyes under the moonlight as a crisp breeze makes it way past them.

            “I’m yours, and you’re mine,” Harry replies, not hesitating with the reply, Louis putting the cigarette back in the man’s mouth, still staying close.

            “I won’t run away again, I won’t,” Louis says quietly, voice shaky as he speaks the sincere words, sniffling. The sniffles could simply be from the cold, but Harry doubts it as he takes in a puff of smoke, before placing the cigarette in between Louis’ lips.

            Harry can’t help but think that he’s the one who walked out, although Louis asked him. He’s still been blaming himself, wondering why his legs ever led him out of that apartment instead of staying and fighting for Louis. “Je t'aime mon cher,” Harry whispers, Louis’ lips curling up at the edges, his eyes filled with hope. Harry only knows a few terms of endearment, but he knows that’s enough for now.

            “Mon amour, mon amour, mon amour. Tu me fais me sentir chez moi,” Louis replies, resting his cheek against Harry’s chest, listening to the man’s heart beat. “I’m yours,” Louis repeats, closing his eyes, and Harry admires his glowing skin in the moonlight.

            “I’m yours,” He repeats back, deciding to have the details worked out another day, another night. But, for now, they keep each other warm, fill their lungs with smoke, and wait for the sun to rise.