Harry, my love.
Why don't you look at me?
At least give me a little smile?
It had been ages since Louis had seen Harry smile. Really smile, not just the fabricated ones he displayed onstage. Those happened because he more or less had to- was obligated to, but they weren't the genuine, heartfelt, truly happy smiles that Louis yearned for so much that it squeezed his heart, and damn it, it hurt. It really, really hurt. It couldn't come close to comparing to the kind of smile Harry had always had plastered on his face when he and Lou were together.
Together. It almost sounded foreign now. Doing everything he could think of to lure Harry into noticing him, but it was as if Louis didn't exist in Harry's world anymore. God, it hurt like what agony must feel like . . . Louis didn't think he'd suffered true agony before, but if it was anything like this . . . how could a person be expected to survive it?
A balloon. A balloon might be worth a try. Doing something funny with a balloon. Anything to cheer Harry up. For so damn long, he'd tried, everything from overdone water fights with Liam to horsing around and being excessively silly with Niall, and he wasn't about to give up now.
So many times he'd wanted to scream, "Notice me Harry!" into the microphone, right in the middle of a concert.
There they were in Sweden, on tour, June of 2015, and they were singing "Little Things" in concert. Louis was desperate. Harry had hardly acknowledged him for two years, and Louis, being the determined, fearless lad he was, knew in his heart that Harry was still in love with him. So he wasn't going to leave it alone.
He loved Harry to no end. Since the day they'd met five years ago, there had been a connection between all the lads, but Harry and Louis had been a love story just waiting to happen. Almost from the very beginning. They were friends for a while. Actually, about a year. And then that friendship took a serious turn. And everything became discombobulated. Out of control. Scary out of control.
What had, at first, been a spark as they played and rough housed together, burst into a white-hot flame. That was desire. On the surface. But it was so much more than simple, basic desire. So much deeper. They'd been close friends, toured together, done some crazy stuff, seen some amazing sights at all the places they'd been. They were part of a band, and the world adored them. They were an almost overnight success. They'd traveled the world. Crowds of fifty thousand, sold out, everywhere they went. The fans were screaming, jumping, crying maniacs, and this was so foreign to them. They'd had some huge adjustments to make. And through it all, they'd had each other.
They'd shared it all. Making hit records. Staying up all night, existing on fast food, learning how to disguise themselves in public (that sometimes worked and sometimes did not), doing interviews, video diaries, winning awards—all this brought Harry and Louis ever closer and closer, until the day they knew they couldn't deny it any longer. Louis even remembered the exact moment that it dawned on him. He'd felt something, although he wasn't quite sure what it was. Maybe, at first, he'd been afraid to know.
The close friendship continued, but an ingredient was added. They began flirting with each other. It went on forever. A delicious forever. Wanting each other's attention. Craving it. Doing almost anything to get it. Then one day, the universe changed for them. Harry had been seventeen by then, and Louis was nineteen.
They told themselves they were young guys experimenting. No big deal, they tried to reason. Truth was, neither one was a virgin. They had chosen this path together. Even though there were willing girls everywhere. As time went on, they became closer, until they, at last, had to profess their love for each other. And, surprisingly, or maybe not so surprisingly, it came easily and naturally.
It became a torrid love affair. More intense and powerful than either could have fathomed. A whirlwind. Hardly being able to wait to get their hands on each other. Breaths quickening when the other walked into a room. Kissing, staring into each other's eyes, holding hands, were just as important as making love. The torment of being apart when it was occasionally necessary, was almost too much to bear.
But then the other lads caught on, the fans caught on, and worst of all, management caught on. That was the beginning of the nightmare. They were severely admonished, told not to stare at each other, touch each other, sit next to each other, or hardly even look at each other. They were watched closely, and the only time they could be together, alone, was in the tour bus at night when the other lads were in a hotel. When that was discovered, it was also banned.
Slowly, they drifted apart. Not from choice, but necessity. They couldn't go against the rules, the contract. They couldn't be spotted anywhere in public or word would surely get back to the powers that be. So, in order not to get caught, they stopped seeing each other except onstage or at practice, photo shoots, interviews, and things of that nature. No more mutual hotel rooms, much less mutual suites. No more talking long into the night, and the worst of all, no more touching.
Two years. Two years remembering all those nights of passion, all the sweet kisses in the dark, the dreams unveiled, the plans of a future together. Louis would do anything to bring the light back to Harry's eyes, take away the wistfulness, the melancholy on his face that tore Louis' insides to shreds.
He loved him. Oh God, how he loved him.
Balloons were onstage. Blue ones and yellow ones. Louis and Harry sat about eight feet apart, leaden hearts weighing them down so they could hardly function well enough to get through yet another concert. Harry was singing when it was his turn, waving occasionally to the crowd, forcing empty smiles at the fans.
Louis blew up a blue balloon. He decided to experiment. He looked over and took in Harry's beautiful hair that had now grown past his shoulders, his perfect face, moist pink lips, those brooding green eyes that stared into the distance. The scowl that, nowadays, often took the place of his dimpled smile. Maybe he was looking at the audience, and maybe at nothing.
Louis tried not to remember Harry's gentle hands on him. Always careful, considerate. He'd longed for Harry's touch, but all he got now was a half-look, and then Harry's head would swivel the other way. And no more smiles that were just for him. Louis realized the importance of not interacting, but this was picking his heart apart, piece by piece.
So he held the blue balloon out toward Harry and let it go so the air was released from it, being careful not to allow it to hit Harry in the face. As the air escaped, the balloon careened through the air, circling and looping around Harry, who looked around in surprise. Liam was singing now so Harry was momentarily free. Louis quickly blew up another blue balloon. It was the color of his eyes—that fact didn't escape him, and maybe it wouldn't escape Harry either. Desperation drove him on. Hey, he needed all the help he could get. Heart pounding, he held the balloon out to Harry, and Harry leaned over to poke at it, as if to pop it.
Then it happened. The world smiled on Louis. Harry broke out into the most beautiful, delightful sunshine smile—the kind that Louis had been deprived of for two years. Dimples and all.
Louis' heart swelled. To see Harry smile like this once again was all the reward he needed. But he was greedy. He wanted more. The first gesture like this in so long was mind boggling, and it made his hopes rise just a little bit. If they rose too much, he'd crash, so he didn't allow it.
Oh Harold. Remember? Of course you do!
The magic of the moment was not lost on Niall and Liam. They watched on somewhat discreetly, curious, with maybe a touch of envy. Maybe they could feel a little of the magic.
Focused now, Louis blew up a yellow balloon and let it go. But he dared not approach Harry that directly again. Twice was enough, and Louis didn't want Harry to be threatened or yelled at by management.
Harry kept watching him though, being sneaky about it with sidelong glances. Louis knew it, could feel his bright green eyes penetrating his every move. It felt as warm as the gentle Swedish sunshine.
Just playing—Harry was just playing, that was all. Louis tried to tell himself that, so that his aching heart wouldn't be bitterly disappointed if Harry went right back to the same somber person after the concert.
Harry, my love.
I've missed you so.
Getting through the rest of that concert was an almost insurmountable challenge for Louis. He had to put energy and spunk into it. It was important to keep the fans happy and entertained. And not just because of management, but for the fans themselves. He loved them, and he owed it to them many times over.
When the last song was done, Harry's eyes looked sorrowful once again, and he appeared lethargic; you could almost say apathetic. Like he'd been carrying the weight of the world without letting the world know. Merely carrying on, just existing.
The lads bowed, then walked off stage and hustled to their waiting limos. Well, he'd done what he could. It was just a little gesture, but Louis hoped Harry had somehow picked up on the good feelings he'd sent his way.
They were walking single file, right next to a fence, and Louis and Harry were the last two in line.
"Lou . . ." a soft voice behind him. "Don't look back at me. But thanks . . . "
The shock of it made Louis' heart hammer in his ears. So Harry had taken notice of Louis' effort and appreciated it, and that was all the reassurance Louis needed for the moment. It was something . . .
Taking a huge venture, and knowing it was a hazard, but not being able to rein himself in, Louis slowed his pace just a bit, his head turned to the side so Harry could hear him and said, "At the end of this fence row, take a sharp right and we'll run down the fence and then into that shelter out there," he indicated the run-down building with a barely noticeable jerk of his head. "If we're fast, we'll be out of sight before anyone notices we're gone." He said this while looking like he was gazing over the fence and into the pastures so as not to catch anyone's attention. Then he held his breath.
There was no response. His heart literally sank and he sighed in defeat. He felt like a fool, but at least he could look back on this some day and say he'd tried—he'd honestly tried.
"Okay," came the answer only seconds before they reached the end of the fence. Louis' pulse thumped up into his throat and a tremendous surge of adrenaline shot through him. They'd have to be fast. He was a fast runner himself, so no sweat. But Harry was not the most graceful or athletic, and Louis hoped he didn't fall flat on his face. That would be the end of it, then and there. They would just barely have enough time as it was.
The end of the fence appeared, and Louis dove to the right, sprinting close to the fence on the opposite side, head down, for about seventy-five feet, then cutting sharply to the left and finishing at the old run-in shed designed for sheep about fifty feet later. Not a long run, but could Harry keep up? He heard Harry behind him, so he knew Curly was really pushing it. Normally Harry could not keep up with him. So this was a very good sign for the Doncaster lad, who realized gleefully that Harry was deadly serious about this.
They squeezed into the opening in the front, opposite where they'd come from. Both were breathing hard, and when Louis spoke, it was in a whisper, just in case, although no one but Harry could possibly hear him. "Let's wait here to see what they do—maybe they'll drive off." But he knew that notion was ridiculous. No way would they not be missed. But he had to keep Harry with him, physically as well as mentally. He couldn't let Harry panic.
Stay in the moment.
This was absolutely the closest Louis had been to Harry in a very long time. He actually felt the heat from his former lover's body—they were standing that close. Louis ground his teeth to maintain control.
"Man, what if they think we were kidnapped or something? They can't help but notice we're not there. They'll freak out!" Harry's eyes, now wide, mesmerized him, shining such a bright, gorgeous green in the moonlight that it nearly knocked Louis to his knees. They actually sparkled.
He sputtered at first, struggling to talk; to get past the fierce attraction he had for this lad.
"They'll search, of course, but by the time they start looking, we can creep along that line of trees and get lost in the dark." Thank goodness, it was nearly dark now. "Too many places to hide, and they'll have to give up," added Louis.
It was true there was virtually a forest of birch trees. They had a good chance. . .
"I'll call one of the guys as soon as we can and tell them to tell the body guards we're okay. Otherwise they'll be cops, helicopters and dogs all over the place."
Harry nodded, having full faith in Louis and his judgment, even though the firey lad was prone to mischief. Louis wouldn't guide them wrong. Not when it was this important, this imperative that they use great caution.
In order to be together . . . alone.
And frankly, Harry was so overwhelmingly grateful for this . . . escapade of theirs, thanks to Louis' quick thinking. Harry was still in shock, but he knew he could count on Louis to make the right decisions, so he followed him blindly, no questions asked.
There was no time to talk at the moment, though Louis longed to. He'd been mooning over Harry for so long, and ached to tell him about it, ask Harry how he felt. But there would be time for that later. Right now they had to watch, wait and listen. Peering through the misshapen and dilapidated boards of the long unused sheep shelter, they watched the limos and the movement around them.
Soon it was apparent that one of the body guards was alerted. He was looking about anxiously. It had been noticed they were missing. Within a few moments, body guards along with roadies were starting to comb the immediate area around the limos and fence. Several started to enter the field where the shed was.
"Alright, they're starting to head this way, but at a walk. We can slip through the shadows under those birches, and we'll be home free." Louis wished he felt as much confidence as he feigned. For the first time in two years, Louis grabbed Harry's hand, guiding him to the opening in the shed, and then hissing, "Follow me, like you did before." He took flight, and fleet he was!
Harry had to pull his hand free almost immediately, or risk having his shoulder ripped off, and struggled to stay within ten feet of Louis, his lungs burning by the time they'd gone a few hundred yards. Louis slowed to a walk, smiling at Harry in triumph. Harry returned the smile, then took note of how Louis was checking out the other side of the street to the east of where the limos were parked.
"We made it 'through the dark,' Hazza!" he said proudly.
"Hotel!" Louis said a moment later, and the two of them took long running strides to the other side of the street and into the lobby of the hotel, hoping they wouldn't be seen by any of the crew. Unlikely now though, as it was almost completely dark.
"They'll never think to look here!" Louis smiled over his shoulder at a breathless, pale Harry. It wasn't a high priced hotel, but it had a pool, and Louis liked that. He and Harry both loved to swim.
Since most Swedes speak English, they didn't have any trouble checking in, and luckily they had Swedish money on them and were able to pay and get into their room quickly.
The clerk had asked if one double bed would do, as that was all he had available. With crimson cheeks, Louis had nodded. Harry just stood there, doing a rather bad job of looking indifferent.
The room was on the second floor and spacious, with a refrigerator. The loo had a huge shower and big, fluffy towels, and the room itself was very clean and cheerful, painted in pale yellow. Louis especially loved the balcony. It was as if they were no longer famous, and pleased with simple things, as they had once been before the X-Factor had even entered their minds. Louis glanced at the double bed with its down comforter. It looked so inviting. . .
"It doesn't get dark here until after ten in summer as you can see," Louis explained to Harry. "That darkness helped a lot in our escape. In fact, I think we would've been caught if not for the darkness. And they have a very relaxed attitude in Sweden about nudity. Just right for you!" He injected the humor because Harry was looking on the nervous, jittery side.
Harry laughed, relaxation beginning to creep up on him. "Right up my alley! And why do they speak English?"
"Swedish is very, very hard to learn." Louis was glad he'd researched a little before they came. He was hoping against hope that he could talk Harry into staying here for a couple of days. "Also, they don't tend to mob celebrities like they do in the U.S. and the U.K. They more or less just stare. This is really ideal!"
Harry's smile was huge and stunning, and Louis had to fight against grabbing him and kissing him like he used to. He felt something hot and unfamiliar in his gut.
Shyness. Yes, it had been a long time.
"Anyway, gotta call, right this minute. I think Liam would be best. What do you think?" Harry nodded, agreeing Liam would be the best choice under the circumstances.
Liam was fit to be tied. "Where the hell are you guys?" His voice carried a hint of panic.
"Secret," said Louis. Liam was actually happy for the two of his mates, but he'd been worried to death, as had the others.
"I looked around and you two were gone! Just like that! I shoulda known though. . . ."
"I wanted to call you as soon as possible so the search party can be called off. We're safe and here in town. But we want to be alone."
Silence while Liam processed this information.
"How long will you be gone? We're leaving in two days, ya know."
"We'll be back by time to leave. Don't know any specifics right now. All depends on Harry."
Okay. So that told Liam a whole hell of a lot. All he really needed to know, in fact.
"What should I tell the others? Like management, ya know?"
"I hate to get you involved, Liam. So just, for now, tell 'em I called and we're fine and we'll be back in time to board the plane. I'll take it from there." Louis would pay the consequences. It was worth it to be alone with Harry. And he didn't want to even think about going back right now. All his energy and attention was going to be on Harry and their time together. Talking to him, discovering him again.
"Gotcha. Take care, Tommo."
When Louis hung up, Harry was staring at him. The way he used to. As if he'd never seen him before and Louis was some glorious spectacle. Louis had often wondered if Harry would ever stare at him like that again. And, after all this time, it was happening . . .
"Lou . . . baby," whispered Harry. It was as if the world fell away. Louis stopped breathing, and wondered if he might just die.
"Harry, I missed you." He went for broke. "I wanted to kiss you, hold you, multiple times every concert, every interview. But we had to keep our fooking hands off each other!" Louis' voice dripped with venom. "I could kill them!"
Before another second passed, they were in each other's arms. And it was just as it had always been, just two years removed. Harry's warm breath brushed over Louis' neck, followed by his lips. Louis gasped out loud, tossing his head back to give Harry full access. Harry's gentle sucking and licking on his neck always fired him up, but honestly it wouldn't have made any difference what Harry did right now. Louis was so hungry for him, his need so urgent.
The feel of Harry under his hands almost made him hit the roof. The old, familiar loving feelings started crowding in, and overcome with emotion, they both started to cry. Great sobs emanated from their throats. They hadn't even had the chance to kiss yet, and they were crying like babies. Louis hadn't felt Harry's lips on his for two solid years. It was too much to process, and apparently Harry felt the same way.
"I hated having to look away from your eyes, Louis, but I knew if I kept looking at you, I'd have to come to you. I wouldn't be able to stop. I hope you know that . . . for the last two years, I've spent every waking hour thinking about you. And every time I saw you, you'd look even more gorgeous than I remembered, and so soft and sweet that I felt like someone was choking the life out of me."
Louis had been hurting so badly that he didn't realize how much it had hurt Harry to have to ignore him. He should have known. Harry had done an excellent job of it. Indeed, he'd even fooled Louis.
"I thought maybe you were moving on, even though I knew we weren't supposed to have any contact. I have to say you did an admirable job of avoiding me."
I had no choice, Boo. I didn't want them to speak harshly to you, especially knowing it had been my fault."
They grabbed tissues from the night stand, wiped their eyes, blew their noses, and then lay down together on the bed, cuddling and holding and, at last, the magical kissing like they had used to do in the old days. The days when they had taken it for granted, thinking they'd always have it.
The touch, the rub, the stroking of Harry's lips on his for the first time since they'd escaped made Louis feel the years drain away, like so much water down the drain. They couldn't get enough of each other, tasting each other again and again, everything coming back in a rush. Those long, leisurely, yet emergent kisses they remembered so well whenever they'd been alone. Stolen behind buildings, backstage, in the tour bus, even underwater. The nights had been the cream of the crop though because they could take their time without having to look over their shoulders, luxuriating in the feel of each other.
They waited until it was completely dark—another half an hour before they went out to the pool. By that time, there was no one out there, and it wasn't likely they'd be recognized.
Of keen importance to Louis was that they follow their tradition of earlier days. Harry had started it, and it had come to be cherished by the both of them. Flirting, smiling, sweet, brief touches on the cheek, the hair. But nothing more involved than kisses—for now. Louis didn't want to just jump into bed. Their old patterns of behavior were a ritual between them. Even though they were burning up for each other, they waited. It had always been that way with them.
The routine has always been to hold off as long as they could. Louis supposed the practice had begun when they were performing. They couldn't kiss, hold hands or show hardly any affection there, having to wait until afterward. And they discovered that it led to some mighty explosive, wanton lovemaking when they were finally alone. Even better than if they hadn't held off. And that was saying a lot. A hell of a lot.
Both of them were hard as steel in their boxer briefs as they entered the warm water of the pool. But it didn't matter—there was no one to see them except for each other.
"We can just hang our underwear over the shower rod overnight. And if they aren't dry enough tomorrow we'll just leave them off," said Louis slyly, and Harry's look of approval said he agreed.
"And since people shouldn't swarm us, we can go get an extra set of clothes or two tomorrow at one of the shops if you want."
Louis had noticed various restaurants and a mini mall in the area. They could walk to most, or take a cab if they so desired.
"Yeah, since we'll be here two days," said Harry, and that one statement lit Louis up because now he knew Harry really wanted to spend the two remaining days in Sweden alone with him—had approved of Louis' hint.
Harry was tantalizing him, and he wasn't doing a damn fucking thing. Just being Harry, but's that's all it took. Louis was falling apart, and what made it even worse was when Harry surfaced after diving under the water. His wet hair had fallen completely into his face, and he looked so sexy. So touchable . . .
They swam for an entire two or three minutes before they latched onto each other. Harry was really aggressive, making the first move, and that caused Louis to be even more amorous. He'd been trying not to attack Harry since they entered the pool. Hell, he'd been holding himself back for the duration of countless concerts. And to have Harry come on to him like this was more than pleasant. It made Louis feel like the most desirable person in the universe.
Harry liked it slow and easy for a warm-up, Louis knew that because he knew Harry like a book, cover to cover. Every word, every line, every chapter. Harry liked the tease, the flirting. So to have Harry be so aggressive was incredibly inflaming. They had always, without exception, made love right after a show. Two hours of mouthwatering torture had made for some fierce desire.
And now, alone together with no one to stop them, no one to give them stern looks. No one to film them or take photos, no one asking questions.
The undercurrent of extreme need was present, even though the kiss was slow. Tonight Harry was the ringmaster, and Louis would follow his lead. He'd follow Harry anywhere. He loved the memory of denying themselves, then later giving into their passion. He knew what was ahead for them tonight.