Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A strange sound yanks Harry from deep sleep, his heart rate spiking. He groans, the remnants of a dream dissolving as he wakes.

The sound returns, jerking him further from sleep. He feels flushed with a heavy weight on his abdomen. He tries to turn and finds himself trapped. Someone is pressed against him, their arm draping over his bare waist.

He sighs, squeezing his eyes shut as the events of last night piece themselves together in his aching head. Why would he do this again after what she did to him? She's going to get the wrong idea. He said they were over. He means it. She's not going to be happy when he—

A soft beep pulls Harry from the depths of his self-loathing. His phone on the bedside table pulses with a gentle vibration. Lifting his head, he realises the room is still dim, the first hint of dawn painting a delicate orange glow through the slats of his wooden blinds.

A cold spike of panic shoots through him. It can’t be much past five in the morning, so who would be calling? And, more alarmingly, why would they be calling repeatedly at such an ungodly hour?

He slips out from under Mia's arm and crawls off the bed as stealthily as he can. The phone's ringing stops once more, and the room darkens as the screen goes black.

Still half-asleep, he fumbles around on the floor, trying to locate the jeans and hoodie he'd been wearing. "Shit!" He mutters, hissing in pain as he stubs his toe against the desk. He stills, holding his breath, and waits for Mia to shift. When she doesn’t, his search continues, his movements now a bit more cautious.

Finding his discarded clothes, he quickly pulls them on, snatches up his phone and keys, and then, with a fragile grip on his remaining self-respect, slips out of the room. He silently thanks his past self for the foresight of packing his entire dorm into his car the previous day.

He carefully shuts the door, then moves as quietly as he can away from his room and, more importantly, Mia. Just as he pulls his phone from his pocket, it begins to ring again. The screen illuminates, displaying Mum along with a picture of him and his mother.

A chill runs down his spine as the panic returns. Immediately, he presses the answer button and puts the phone to his ear.

"Mum?" He murmurs, his voice barely audible, careful not to disturb the silence of the building. "Mum, what is it?" His voice is laced with a barely contained anxiety as a barrage of possibilities, each more alarming than the last, flood his mind.

"Oh, love." She begins, her voice trembling. "I'm so sorry for calling so early." Her words sound wrong, strained, and a knot of anxiety forms in his stomach.

"It's okay, Mum. What's wrong? Are you alright?" Harry doesn’t realise how much he's sweating until the cool air hits him when he steps outside the dorm building. A choked sob from his mother sends his heart racing.

"It's your dad, Harry." She says, her voice thick with emotion. "I just got a call from your aunt. About an hour ago… he passed away, love. I'm so sorry." Her voice breaks on the final words, but Harry can’t grasp what she could possibly be apologising for.

Harry's father had barely been present in their lives. His parents' relationship was fleeting, and Harry is fairly certain his father was married to someone else while he had gotten his mother pregnant. For the past six years, he's had no contact with him whatsoever.

His aunt and her son were the only other people he'd ever met from his father's side of the family. He only knew them because during the infrequent visits with his father, his dad would often leave him with her while he went to work.

Their time together was limited to one weekend every few months, and most of that time, he was away working. When his father had forgotten to pick him up one day when he was fourteen, prioritising business over his son, Harry had decided he no longer wanted him in his life.

By that point, Harry had realised he deserved to be a priority. Since then, it was just Harry and his mum, Anne. She was his entire world, providing him with all the love and care a mother could, effectively making up for the lack of a father figure.

The only thing Harry consistently sought from his father was financial assistance, to alleviate his mother's need to work multiple jobs to make ends meet. Given his father's significant profit from his thriving wine business, one might assume he could have contributed a modest amount monthly to support his family.

Anne’s soft voice interrupts his thoughts. “Love?” She says. Harry blinks, coming back to the present.

"Yeah, I'm here, sorry.” He states, his voice firm. "Please, don't be upset, Mum. I'm alright." He can’t bear to see his loving mother suffer any more, especially not because of Des Styles.

The sun is peeking through the clouds now, painting the sky an array of colours. Orange and yellow seep through the blue and purple of the disappearing night sky, the trees of the university campus gardens softly rustle in the early morning summer breeze.

"What happened?" Harry asks, the reality of the situation slowly hitting him. His dad is dead .

"Sarah said they found his body in one of the vineyards yesterday evening. He was taken to hospital, but he passed away early this morning. They think it was a heart attack."

From what Harry had heard, his father had moved to Naples in Italy to expand his wine business a couple of years ago. He'd made his fortune cultivating his own wine brand which took off in the local area and quickly expanded to international popularity.

"There's some tests that need to be done. And because of his wealth they need to make sure there hasn't been any foul play or anything." Anne scoffs and Harry rolls his eyes at the dramatics of it all. "Sarah said they're hoping to hold the funeral in a week but that all depends on the autopsy and when they can release his body. But she said she would let us know so you can make your arrangements.” 

"What?" Harry snaps as he stops his aimless pacing around the quad. "I'm not going to the funeral, mum. Why would I? He barely even acknowledged my existence."

He hears a sigh travel down the phone line, and it's accompanied by the image of his mum shaking her head— a gesture he knows so well. "We can talk about it when you get home, love. Are you still all set to come back today?"

With summer break beginning, and after a final campus party, students are dispersing for home or holiday. Harry, prepared to leave at his own pace today, found his plans quickly changed. Waking up with Mia in his room, and then receiving unexpected news from his mother, meant his departure would be much sooner than he'd imagined.

He arrives at his car before he even registers it, his relaxed morning plans discarded, and the thought of his ex-girlfriend's impending fury when she realises he’s vanished barely registering. He slides inside, the engine sputtering to life with a rough rumble as he turns the key.

"Mum, I'm on my way."

~

After four hours, two coffees, six McDonald's hash browns and one roadside vomit break— Harry is pulling into the familiar driveway of his mum's house. Before he's even stepped out of his car, his mum is ambling down the front steps and rushing towards him.

He smiles at her through the windshield and climbs out of the car. She encases him in a bone crushing hug, pulling back to smile at him and immediately, he feels at home. He gets a good look at her, and sees the exhaustion around her eyes. He knows he must look in a similar state, he’s running on three hours of sleep and is sporting a nasty hangover. He probably smells like a dive bar and regret. She doesn't seem to mind.

"I've missed you, baby." She coos at him, pinching his cheek and pulling him into another hug before steering him towards the house.

The first thing she does is put the kettle on, preparing them both a tea. He looks around, taking in the familiar space. Though he hasn’t been back since Christmas, the feeling of home feels immediate and comfortable, as if he had never left.

He’s everywhere in this house. Near the hallway door, the crooked lines mark his growth, a tradition his mother never forgets, not even on his twentieth birthday earlier this year. Down by the fireplace, a small burn in the carpet remains, a reminder of the time he dropped a roasting marshmallow during one of their many living room campouts.

He looks up the stairs, noting the frames of school photos lining the wall, then spots countless baby pictures adorning the shelves and mantels throughout the house.

His mum places his tea on the table and he takes his usual seat, she sits down opposite with her own mug nestled in her palms. "How was your drive?" It’s a clear attempt to deflect the underlying issue. She winces, her eyes briefly taking in his fatigued state. "I'm so sorry for waking you so early." She said, her tone shifting to apologetic. "I think I was still reeling from the call. I didn’t consider the time.” The unspoken topic, now impossible to ignore, hangs heavy between them.

"Mum, I can't go to the funeral." He starts. "I can't just drop everything and go to bloody Italy. I'm supposed to help you out in the shop, and around here—“ 

Anne stops him with a decisive shake of her head, her hand reaching out to clasp his. "Harry, you need to go.” She urges, her voice soft but firm. "I truly believe you'll regret it if you don't." Her thumb traces soothing circles on the back of his hand as she continues, "I know he wasn't the best dad." A scoff escapes Harry before he can stop it, earning him a sharp glare from Anne. "Okay, fine, he was a terrible dad.” She concedes. “But he's still your only one. I think you need to say goodbye, to find some closure, to put it all behind you. You love your Aunt Sarah and your cousin, don't you want to see them too?"

She has a point. Sarah was good to him as a child. When he would stay with her, she treated him as well as she treated her own son, Oliver. He and Harry, just a year apart, were extremely close when they were younger.

He mulls the idea around in his head as he sips his tea. He's too tired to make these kinds of decisions right now. He desperately needs a shower and some sleep.

After Anne helps him with his bags to his room, he collapses into his childhood twin bed, a wave of exhaustion washing over him. He barely has the energy to think. Sleep first, shower later, he thinks before his eyes drift shut. The insistent ringing of his phone, coming from his backpack, drags his heavy lids back open. He sits up with a groan, pulling it out to see Mia's name flash across the screen, along with a string of missed calls and texts he'd previously ignored.

He drags a hand down his face, bracing himself for the inevitable lashing.

'Where did you go?'

'You better be out getting me breakfast.'

‘Okay, the longer you're gone the less likely it is you're out getting food..'

'Where the fuck are you, Harry? You can't just leave me in your empty room.'

'Babe, I'm sorry. Last night was fun. I'm glad you came to your senses and took me back.'

Harry rolls his eyes at the last one. He had a momentary lapse of judgment and drunkenly slept with her, he doesn't want her back. He never wants her back. Not after what she did to him. 

He swipes out of his messages and turns his phone on to silent. She can call him all she wants, he’s not going to answer. She’ll eventually get the message. 

He lays back and closes his eyes, forgetting all about his problems and instead focusing on the gentle hum of the ceiling fan above his bed.

Within seconds, he's drifting off into a much needed rest.

~

"What the fuck.” Harry mutters, voice thick with sleep. He slowly sits up, momentarily forgetting where he is and maybe even what year it is. He brushes the long curtain of hair from his face, blinking away the sleep still clinging to his eyes.

He is in his room, at his mother's house. It’s Sunday, and his dad is dead. A cat, one he's never seen before, sits across the room on a pile of papers on his desk. Its gaze is unnervingly intense, and Harry’s eyes widen as he feels it bore into him.

"Oh, you're awake!" Anne exclaims from the doorway, her voice bright. She enters the room, immediately gathering the cat into her arms and cradling it like a baby. "This is Chloe.” She says, beaming. "I just rescued her last week, so she's still settling in."

"So, that's six now, yeah, Mum?" He teases. Anne just rolls her eyes. "Four.” She corrects him. “And don't even start with the crazy cat lady thing." With the cat in her arms, she turns and walks out. "Dinner's ready in five!" She calls as she descends the stairs.

Dinner? Harry thinks. It's then that he notices the glowing streaks of the setting sun flowing through his window. He picks up his phone and sees that it’s just after seven o’clock. He'd slept the entire day. A wave of regret washes over him, knowing tonight's sleep will likely be elusive. He mentally scolds himself for being so lazy and trots down the stairs to the kitchen to see if he can help with dinner.

The comforting aroma of his mother's pasta, his favourite, envelopes him the moment his foot touches the bottom stair. His stomach rumbles in anticipation, and he doesn’t hesitate to devour not only a first, but a second and even a third helping.

"Have you thought about what I said?" His mum asks, her voice tentative as she dabs her mouth with a napkin. Harry takes a sip of water, then his fingers go to work, picking at his nails. It was a nervous habit, one he usually didn't register until the skin around his nails were raw and throbbing.

Anne reaches out, her fingers closing around his hands, a deliberate attempt to pull him from the obsessive picking. He lifts his gaze, meeting hers. "I don't want to go.” He says softly, his eyes dropping again to his restless fingers. "But I think you're right. I think I need to." A sad smile touches her lips as she gently strokes his cheek.

He leans into her touch, sighing as he tries to convince himself he'll be alright. His part-time job has provided a small savings fund, rarely touched due to his scholarship. He figures a quick, cheap flight for the funeral, then immediate return is doable. He wants to be there for the very least time necessary.

A knock on the front door interrupts the moment. Anne stands to answer it, and as Harry stands to clear the table, his childhood best friend, a bouncing, blonde-haired Irishman, bursts through the doorway. "Hazza!" He exclaims, and Harry's face lights up with a dimpled smile. He’s immediately enveloped in a bone-cracking hug that lifts him off his feet.

"Jesus, Ni.. I can't breathe, mate.” Harry chokes out and Niall laughs as he puts him back down. "Great to see you, man. I've missed ya!” Niall adds, clapping Harry on the shoulder.

"I'll leave you boys to it. I'm off to bed. I've got an early start tomorrow." Anne smiles as she gives them both a kiss on the cheek and turns to head to her room.

"What are you doing here?” Harry asks, a hint of surprise in his voice. “I thought you were off to the States for the Summer for that internship?" They both sink into the couch, and Harry flicks the TV on to some terrible movie. The room suddenly feels wrapped in the familiarity of their childhood.

"I leave tomorrow. Heard you were back and wanted to come see my favourite boy!" Niall chuckles.

Harry and Niall have been friends since they were babies. Their mother's met when they joined a mothers' group together back in the day and have been best friends ever since. They recently went into business together, opening a little boutique homewares store in town. Harry and Niall carried on the friendship throughout primary school and high school, going their separate ways for uni but still keeping in touch and remaining close as ever anytime they reunited.

Driven by his dream to travel the world and manage public relations for musicians, Niall has secured a summer internship at a top music management company in New York City.

Harry feels a pang of envy towards Niall's unwavering ambition. Niall has always had a clear vision for his future and has dedicated himself to achieving his goals. In contrast, Harry is entering his final year of university still uncertain about how to utilize his degree. While he excels academically, consistently achieving high grades and earning the admiration of his professors, he lacks a sense of direction and purpose, leaving him with a feeling of being adrift despite his numerous accomplishments.

"I'm glad you're here." Harry starts. "It's been a shitty day.." With a sigh, he tries to focus on the overly dramatic horror movie playing quietly in front of him. He winces as a pretty blonde girl gets her head decapitated and the killer throws it like a bowling ball at her screaming friends.

With a shudder, he changes the channel. There's a sponge bob square pants marathon on, which he thinks is much more suitable pre-bedtime viewing. He hates scary movies, even if they're terrible quality and unrealistic.

"Mum told me about your dad. I’m really sorry, H.”  Niall offers, his voice laced with sympathy. Harry doesn’t need it. He isn’t experiencing any grief or sadness at all, actually. Just a blank space inside him. Is that bad? he wonders, a flicker of unease breaking through his numbness. Shouldn't he be feeling something regarding his father's death?

"It's fine, Ni. But thanks." Harry said, glancing at his best friend. Niall's eyes hold a cautious uncertainty, as if he’s unsure how to react. It was strange; Niall, of all people should understand. He'd been there through everything. In fact, Niall's own dad had always been more of a father to Harry than his own ever was.

"I've gotta go to Italy for the funeral next week. I really don't want to go, but mum thinks I should." Harry says as he tussles his hair and flicks it from his face. "I’ve never even met his family besides my aunt and cousin.” He adds. "Don't even know my grandparents, or any of his friends."

With an understanding nod, Niall moves closer to Harry. A calming hand settles on Harry's shoulder, accompanied by a soft squeeze. "I think your mum is right, mate.” Niall says, earning a fond eye-roll from Harry.

“Of course you do. You two are always ganging up on me." He jokes and Niall laughs out loud before slapping his hand over his mouth in an attempt to not wake Anne up. They settle further into the couch and Harry let’s his head drop to Niall’s shoulder. 

"So Italy, huh?” Niall breaks the silence. “You ought to turn it into a proper holiday. A summer Euro trip, maybe?" Harry's eyebrows rise up at the suggestion, the thought of driving there hadn't even crossed his mind. "I'd have even tagged along if I wasn't heading out tomorrow.” He added, a trace of regret in his voice.

Having someone with him would certainly ease some of his anxiety. The idea of facing it alone fills Harry with dread, but he knows he can’t ask Niall or his mum to change their own plans just because he’s scared. Harry considers the idea briefly, but the vision of his battered red Clio struggling to make a week-long round trip across Europe quickly extinguishes any flicker of enthusiasm.

He could rent a car, sure, but that would blow through most of his savings on that alone, not leaving him much money for petrol or accommodation and other expenses. "I can’t drive there, my car barely made it here this morning.” He sighs. It was a nice idea, at least for the thirty seconds he was thinking about it.

"Take my car." Niall states casually without looking up from the telly. Harry's head shoots up from Niall’s shoulder in question, Niall glances back at him.

"What?" Harry asks, the surprise clear in his voice. Niall laughs and goes back to watching the cartoons.

"Well, I’m not gonna need it, am I?" He asks with a shrug. "I'm gone all summer, it's just gonna be sittin' in me dads garage collecting dust."

"Niall, your car is your pride and joy. You barely even let me drive it around this tiny town, now you're offering for me to drive it across the continent?” Niall just shrugs again, breezy as ever.

"Honestly, H, if this is what you really want, then it’s the least I can do.” Niall says. Harry's heart swells at the words. Niall truly is the best person. Overcome with affection, Harry throws himself across the couch, pulling Niall into a tight hug. Niall laughs in surprise, initially squirming to get free but quickly relaxes, melting into Harry's embrace.

Soon after, Niall sets off on foot, leaving his car in the driveway for Harry to use. Harry thanks him repeatedly, promising to look after it well. They hug, and Harry peppers Niall's cheek with kisses, telling him he will miss him and reminding him not to forget about him when he inevitably lands a job at the end of summer.

It's nearing midnight when Harry makes his way up the stairs to his room. He's surprisingly tired, even after sleeping most of the day away. He ignores the need for a shower again and simply falls onto his bed, his mind already racing about his upcoming trip. Before he can fully map out his journey, sleep claims him, still clothed and resting on top of the covers.

~

'Harry. 

Left early for work, I will be home tonight around five.
Sarah called this morning to tell me your fathers funeral will be held at his property in Naples next Tuesday.

Love you, Mum.'

With sleepy eyes, Harry scans the note on the refrigerator. After making tea, he pulls out his notebook, ready to organize his trip. If he leaves tomorrow, he has a week to reach his destination, then he can allocate another week for the journey home, making time for some sightseeing each way.

He hasn't done any traveling at all. Moving to London for uni was the furthest he'd ever been, and it scared him quite a bit. He realises he needs to get out of his comfort zone and actually experience life before he fully transitions into adulthood, but the prospect of actually doing it feels so daunting.

Determined, he pulls out his laptop and sits at the kitchen table, spending hours meticulously mapping out his travel route. He pencils in the sites he would like to see, budgets the costs for petrol, food and motels, then writes himself a checklist of everything he'll need to take with him. 

He downloads and carefully fills out all of the necessary documents for crossing the borders, before seeking out his passport from his mother's filing cabinet. With a decisive click of his laptop, he finalises his channel ferry ticket, paving his way to mainland Europe.

He's actually going through with it. The plan, against all odds, seems attainable. A glance out the window at Niall's comically opulent, black Range Rover brings a wide smile to his face. He's genuinely buzzing with excitement. It's been ages since he's felt...anything at all, really.

Despite the underlying reason for this trip, which he'll actively push to the back of his mind, he’s confident that the journey will be a welcome escape from the reality of what lies ahead. He's eager to for the freedom of the open road, set to the soundtrack of a carefully curated playlist he’s been dying to listen to.

Chapter Text

"Mum, I'll be fine." Harry's muffled voice speaks into Anne's shaking shoulder. She holds him tight in the driveway as Niall's car engine purrs beside them.

It's barely six in the morning, the summer sun fighting its way through the lingering rain clouds from last night. His first scheduled destination is Paris, France. This leg is going to take him about eight hours, including a ninety minute ferry ride across the channel. His ferry is scheduled to depart at eleven, so he needs to make a move.

Unfortunately for him, his mum doesn't seem to want to let him go. "I was all for this when I assumed you'd be flying there and would only be gone for a couple of days." She sniffs, pulling back to look at him. "Be safe, okay? Don't talk to strangers. Don’t stop anywhere unsafe. Don’t go out at night alone—"

Harry gently detaches himself from her embrace, cupping her wet cheeks in his hands. He silences her worried murmuring with a soft kiss to her forehead, then reassures her, "I'll be fine, Mum. I'll be careful, I promise." She nods, her fingers smoothing a stray curl of hair that has escaped his bun and tucks it behind his ear. After a final kiss to her cheek, he climbs into the car.

With a brief wave, he begins the familiar path towards London. He hadn’t anticipated heading back this way for several months, and a sudden ache of missing his mum’s house was already settling in. He firmly tells himself it will be a good thing, that it will pass quickly, and that he should savor his time away. 

He turns up the dial on Niall’s sound system, and with the crisp morning air from the open window against his skin, he allows himself to get lost in the freedom of the open road.

The drive is easy, too early for most traffic, and before Harry knows it he's pulling onto the docks and being directed towards the ferry. The line of cars inches forward, snaking towards the rear entrance and into the car park. He joins the slow-moving queue, turns off the ignition, grabs his backpack, and leaves the rest of his luggage in the car. With his bag slung over his shoulder, he heads towards the top deck of the ship.

The dark clouds begin to roll in as he walks onto the sun deck and takes a seat by the railing. The sound of the engines firing up cuts through the peaceful crashing of waves, jolting his nerves. He takes a deep, steadying breath, grabs his notebook out of his bag and starts to write. Gloomy poems, grey sketches and the beginnings of songs fill the pages of his worn out leather book.

He quickly jots down a summary of his morning, making a mental note to repeat the process daily as a personal reminder. The scent of cigarette smoke abruptly cuts through his concentration, pulling him away from the written page. He looks up, his gaze drawn to a plume of smoke rising from the far side of the deck.

Harry notices a man, likely only a little older than himself, slouched against the railing. The man tilts his head back, looking up at the sky as a breath of smoke escapes his lips and catches in the light wind. Harry follows the wispy trail as it floats over the edge, disappearing completely.

The man is clearly upset. Red rims frame his blue eyes, and his cheeks glisten under the low sunlight. Harry watches him push his hair back with his fingers before he turns and releases a heavy sigh. Then, he throws his cigarette butt over the side of the boat, an act of disregard that makes Harry wrinkle his nose in distaste.

Their eyes meet for a split second before Harry is quickly looking away, mentally scolding himself for staring. When he looks back up from his book, the man is gone.

~

By the time the ferry pulls up at Calais, it's pouring rain. Harry's mood relies on the weather far too much for his own liking, so a sudden gloom settles deep in his bones and the optimism he’d woken up with this morning has vanished.

He clambers back into the car below deck, joining the queue of vehicles slowly progressing toward the exit and onto the dock.

He finally reaches the dock, where the torrential rain has slowed the pace of everyone around him. He’s still on schedule, but the fear of arriving in Paris too late to enjoy his brief visit gnawed at him. With just one night planned, he can’t afford to lose any time.

Just as he finally  escapes the dock and begins to move, he notices something in the distance. A small, rain-blurred figure stands by the roadside. One hand was jammed into a hoodie pocket, the other extended, the thumb urgently signaling for a car. Harry draws closer and recognises the man from the sundeck. His hair dripped, plastered against his face, his eyes squinted shut against the pelting rain, a duffle bag heavy on his slumped shoulder.

Harry gets just close enough to catch a glimpse of the man’s quivering lips before he's rolling past and towards the gates to continue his journey.

Before he realises what he's doing, his foot is slamming down on the brakes causing a fit of car horns to sound behind him. He ignores the blare, and the stern echo of his mother's warnings— be careful, don't talk to strangers , as he unbuckles his seatbelt. Leaning across the passenger seat, he opens the door and gestures to the man to approach. He can’t just leave him out in the cold, can he? And he looks harmless enough, doesn't he?

With startled movements, the man is clambering up into the passenger seat and slamming the door. "Thank you so much." He says quietly but doesn't say anything else. Harry watches as the man’s gaze drops down to his drenched clothes, suddenly realising he's soaking the car seat.

The man curses, the word sharp and laced with a strong northern accent. His face, a mask of horror, flicks upwards to meet Harry's gaze. "I'm soaking your leather seats! I wasn't thinking... Sorry!” He  stammers. "I can get out if you—" He trails off, flustered. Harry meets his eyes with a gentle smile and, without a word, pulls back into the line of cars.

"It’s fine. It's just water. There's a towel in the back behind your seat if you want to dry off." Harry offers and the man immediately makes a move to grab it. Once he's dried off as much as he can, he sits back into his seat with a sigh.

They're on the main road now, and Harry is concentrating hard on the difference in road rules as he navigates the streets on the opposite side of the road to what he's used to.

The silence stretches uncomfortably, broken only by the rhythmic drumming of rain against the glass and the whoosh of the wipers. Harry clears his throat, the sound jarring in the stillness, and shifts his gaze to the stranger. "I'm Harry.” He announces, but receives no reply. He tries again, the question a little louder this time. "Where are you headed?" The man finally lifts his eyes, a humorless laugh escaping his lips.

"I actually have no idea." He shakes his head with a strained smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. Confused, Harry pulls off onto a side street just before he reaches the motorway, and puts the car in park.

He swivels in his seat to face the man, and Harry wonders if he's crying. It's difficult to tell; the rain already peppering his skin obscuring any distinction between teardrops and water.

The stranger clears his throat before uselessly wiping his face with his drenched sweater sleeve. "I'm Louis.” He finally says, his voice a bit hesitant. "Sorry, I should have said that before. I just... I'm not thinking very clearly today." He lets out a breath, his eyes fixating on his knees that peek out the rips of his jeans.

"I'm not really sure where I'm going." Louis adds and Harry nods his head. "Maybe just take me as far as you're going and I'll figure it out from there?"

"So Italy, then?" Harry jokes and Louis snaps his brows up. "I mean.. I'm on my way to Paris right now, but my final destination is Naples, Italy for a um.." He stops himself from over sharing with this person he just met. "..a family thing." He settles on saying.

"Right." Louis nods curtly in agreement. "Paris it is then. If you don't mind, of course?"

Harry smiles, pulling back onto the road and heads towards the motorway.

~

About an hour into their drive, Louis begins to stir, blinking awake after having nodded off shortly after they reached the motorway. Harry had been careful to maintain a smooth, gentle pace to avoid waking him. He could see Louis was utterly exhausted— even in sleep, his face held a slight frown, leading Harry to believe the rest was much needed.

"Sorry, didn't mean to fall asleep." Louis yawns. "Haven't had much rest the last few days, I'm exhausted." He groans, stretching his arms above his head. Harry watches as his hoodie slips up revealing a sliver of bare skin on his stomach. He quickly snaps his eyes back to the road before he crashes, or worse— he's caught staring again.

Harry's not blind. He can clearly see how gorgeous Louis is, and he's definitely Harry's type. The thing is, Harry knows absolutely nothing about him, and typically he wouldn't go for someone based solely on their looks.

"Mind if I smoke?" Louis asks, pulling a crumpled cigarette pack from his duffel bag. 

"Uhh.. Sorry, it's not my car." Harry says. "I can pull over though? I could use a snack break."

Louis nods, so Harry takes the next exit and heads to the nearest town. They get out of the car and both stretch their backs out, popping their joints and cracking their limbs. The rain had stopped a little while ago, and the sun is peeking through the scattered clouds warming Harry's skin. Louis pulls off his wet hoodie, bundles it up and shoves it into his bag.

They make their way towards the shops and find a restroom, then buy some snacks at the supermarket and head back to the car where Louis lights up his cigarette.

Harry hears a loud whistle from behind them as someone hollers "bonjour les garçons forgés!" Followed by a fit of giggles. He turns to see a group of teenage girls scurry off towards the mall. He turns back to Louis who is laughing and Harry's confused expression seems to spur him on further.

Harry strains to dredge up his high school French, but his mind is blank. He'd hoped to coast through the trip with the barest minimum of language skills. "What did they say?" He asks, frustrated. "What's so funny?"

"They cat-called us." Louis says with a gleam in his eye. "Called us ‘sexy boys’."

Harry can't help the blush that darkens his cheeks, and it deepens when he looks to where the girls walked off, only to see they're still glancing back at them, waving them over. Harry looks to Louis who just shrugs his shoulders at him and nods his head in their direction.

"You're welcome to join them, don't let me stop you." Louis smiles. Harry doesn't even consider it but plays along anyway. 

“You don't want to go with them?" He asks and wiggles his eyebrows. 

A small, self-conscious chuckle escapes Louis. "They're not really my type. Too... female.” He murmurs, a quiet laugh following. Harry's gaze connects with his immediately, catching the hesitant uncertainty that flickers in Louis’ eyes.

"Oh." Is all Harry manages to say, his brows furrowing. Louis drops his gaze to the ground, shaking his head before heading to the car. "What are you doing?" Harry asks, surprised by the movement. Louis slings his heavy bag over his shoulder and circles back around the car.

"It's alright, Harry. I can manage from here. Thank you for the ride.” He begins to walk away, leaving Harry rooted to the spot. Had he somehow offended him? Harry's feet move at their own accord, hurrying after Louis. He reaches out, placing a hand on his shoulder to turn him back around.

A look of startled confusion crosses Louis' features as he turns toward Harry. "Where are you going?" Harry asks, bewildered, the words tumbling out. Louis simply shrugs, pulling his shoulders inward, making him appear even smaller.

"The look you gave me when I said I wasn't into females.” He begins, and Harry's eyes widen in horror. Louis continues, his voice low. "It's okay, Harry. Really. I'm used to getting that reaction." He mutters the last part, turning to leave again.

Harry's heart pounds. He can’t let Louis leave believing that the look he'd given meant what Louis likely thought it meant. "Louis, please.” Harry called out, his voice urgent. "Come back to the car. It's not what you think." Louis turns, but remains in place. Harry pushes on. "It's not... I wasn't..." He stumbles over his words, frustration mounting. He scrubs a hand across his face before finally managing to say, "I don't care that you're gay." He takes a breath. "I'm— I'm bisexual.” He confesses. "So, it's not an issue at all. I'm so sorry if you thought I was being homophobic. It’s the complete opposite, actually."

Louis raises an eyebrow at Harry's admission.
"Did we just come out to each other by accident?" Louis laughs, making Harry relax, a hesitant smile crossing his face. 

“It took me eighteen years to come out to my own mum. And here I am, telling you this after knowing you for just a few hours." The impact of his words were immediate. Louis' laughter vanishes, replaced by a somber smile as he directs his gaze to the ground. 

The silence starts to feel awkward and Harry moves closer to Louis. "So... Paris?" He asks, and the question seems to lift the tension, bringing a small, sweet smile to Louis' face. Harry reaches out and takes Louis' bag from his shoulder, and they start walking back to the car together.

~

The remaining drive unfolds with easy banter and comfortable lapses into silence. Through casual conversation, Harry learns that Louis is a 22-year-old business student from a university not too far from his own. He’s originally from Doncaster, and Louis beams as he speaks about his large family – five sisters and a brother. Louis doesn't mention his parents once, and Harry, sensing a sensitive topic, steers clear of the reason for his departure from England, choosing to keep the conversation light and breezy.

The bustle of Paris immediately overwhelms Harry. London's traffic felt tame in comparison, the confusing maze of streets and the overwhelming flood of cars and pedestrians threaten to send him into a full-blown panic.

He makes it into the city centre, trying to follow the navigation system leading him to his hotel booking. Nearing a roundabout, his unsure movements cause him to brake hard, the car behind him narrowly avoiding a collision, the sound of skidding tires and an angry horn shattering the already tense atmosphere.

Panic claws at Harry, and he squeezes his eyes shut, struggling to draw a steady breath. Louis seems to feel his distress, instantly reaching for Harry's hand on the steering wheel. "Hey.” He says, his voice gentle but laced with worry. "You're okay. Just pull over, and I can drive if you want." Relief washes over Harry as he nods, oblivious to the impatient blare of car horns urging him forward. He turns the car away from the roundabout, guiding it onto a quieter side street.

Putting the car into park, Harry leans his head back against the headrest, trying to steady his breathing. "Sorry." He chokes out and Louis clicks off his seatbelt and turns his body to face him.

"It's alright, Harry. I've driven around here before, it's bloody terrifying." He laughs and Harry relaxes slightly at the soothing sound of his voice. "Come on, switch places with me, I'll get you to your hotel."

Harry spends the entire trip to the hotel in a state of awe at Louis' ability to weave seamlessly through the traffic. He shouts curses at drivers who cut him off, and blares the horn at pedestrians who step onto the road without looking. He pulls up a little too abruptly to the hotel parking lot giving Harry a mild case of whiplash across his chest, but overall he’s relieved when he finally steps foot onto solid ground. 

He climbs out of the car and opens the back to grab out his bags.  The hotel building is old and worn but Harry feels a sense of excitement at the thought of being in Paris and truly beginning his adventure.

"Alright, then.” Louis shrugs on his own bag and rounds to the back of the car to meet Harry on the footpath. "I really appreciate the lift, mate. You really helped me out a lot."

"It's no trouble at all. Honestly." Harry replies and he genuinely means it. It's been nice having some company, and he's not sure how he would have coped in the traffic if Louis hadn't been there to help him get to the hotel.

"Let me.. uh." Louis reaches into his pocket and pulls out some crumpled up notes. "Here's some cash for petrol. I haven't got much, sorry." Harry quickly shakes his head, shoving Louis' hand away, sternly refusing the money.

"Are you sure?" Louis questions with a look of embarrassment for not having more to offer.

"Really, Louis. It’s not been any trouble. It's been nice having the company, plus I was headed this way anyway." He shrugs.

"Alright, then." Louis concedes, shoving the notes into his jeans. 

"Are you going to be okay?" Harry asks. Louis nods his head, reaching into the opposite pocket of his jeans and fishing out his phone.

"I have a friend who lives nearby.” Louis explains. "I'll give him a call and see if he'd be willing to let me stay with him for a while." Harry nods, then turns and begins walking towards the hotel entrance.

"Well, it was nice to meet you, Louis." Harry turns back just as Louis lights a cigarette, flopping himself down onto the sidewalk against the brick facade.

"You too, Harry. And thanks again for the ride." Harry smiles and give Louis a nod before Harry’s  turns and walks into the lobby.

He's taken up the stairs to his room on the fourth floor and is shown where the shared bathroom is. His room is tiny, just a double bed with red and yellow striped covers taking up most of the space. There’s a small sink and cabinet that sits against the opposite wall. Dusty curtains in an awful shade of brown hang from the tiny, painted shut window next to the bed. The room is hot and there's no air conditioning but there is a small fan propped up on the bedside table. Harry turns it on right away to circulate the humid air. 

With the door closed behind him, he sets his bags down on the bed and turns to the window and took in the view. There isn’t much to see, just the facades of neighboring buildings and a line of trees along the street. In the quiet of the room he hears a distant soundtrack of revving engines and honking horns.

There's some muffled chatter through the walls of the room next door, and all of these noises are broken up by the loud rumbling sound escaping his stomach. Now that he has had time to stop, he realises how hungry he is. In fact, all he has eaten today is a cup of tea when he left his mum's, and a bag of crisps and some gummy bears he and Louis had gotten after the ferry.

He decides to head out. He needs to get some dinner and wants to get a look at the Eiffel Tower at some point before he leaves. It's almost five in the afternoon now. Early dinner first, Eiffel Tower light show second, then back for an early night before another long drive tomorrow.

He exits the lobby, a smile playing on his lips as he passes the elderly woman at the front desk. Stepping out onto the street, he pauses, glancing first left, then right, wondering which way would be best. He briefly considers going back inside and asking the woman for directions, but quickly dismisses the idea. Her English appears to be non-existent, and his French vocabulary is limited to the bare necessities of "where is the nearest toilet?" and "can I please have another beer?"

The rest of his knowledge of French is largely confined to colorful curse words, which he suspects she wouldn't find charming. Apart from that, he can just about manage to say "thank you" and state his name. The familiar sting of doubt returns, a recurring torment he's endured countless times already since leaving just this morning. 

His decision about which street to turn down is halted by a voice, vaguely familiar, grumbling curses. He glances towards the sidewalk to find Louis exactly where he'd left him— slumped against the wall, his legs drawn up, head resting on his knees, a soft tremor passing through his shoulders as he mutters to himself.

"Louis?" Harry says cautiously as he steps closer. Louis' head shoots up and Harry doesn’t miss the tears staining his cheeks before Louis quickly swipes them away.

"Shit. You scared me, Harry." Louis laughs, trying to mask his clear distress. He pulls himself up to stand, brushing off his jeans as he collects himself. Harry notices the pile of butted out cigarettes next to where he was seated.

"What are you still doing here? Did you get onto your friend?" Harry’s trying not to overstep, but he's genuinely concerned about his welfare. He’s become somewhat attached to the man in just a short time. 

Louis shakes his head with a frown. "He's gone on a trip with his girlfriend and won't be back for another few weeks. I was just working out where I'm gonna go. There's a cheap backpackers on the other side of the city. I'll head down that way." He picks up his bag and starts to head off.

The sudden memory of Louis' lack of funds makes Harry's stomach drop. He won’t be able to afford anything decent with only those crumpled bills. "Louis." Harry calls out urgently, and Louis freezes, not daring to look back. Harry closes the distance and places a tentative hand on his shoulder. "Louis—" He says again, and finally, Louis turns around, his expression vulnerable.

Defeat has etched itself onto his face, a picture of utter exhaustion. He looks ready to give up, and Harry's heart clenches at the sight of such sadness, driving him to offer any assistance possible.

"Why don't you put your stuff in my room and come grab some dinner with me?" He offers and Louis nearly crumbles at the generosity, his chin quivering before he’s rushing forward and throwing his arms around Harry's middle. It takes Harry’s mind a second to catch up but when it does, he places his hands on Louis' back and returns the comforting hug.

~

"So, do you want to talk about why you left the country with no money and nowhere to go?" Harry asks carefully as Louis takes a bite of his burger.

Louis takes his time chewing, clearly mulling over if he wants to answer Harry’s question. Finally, placing his food down on his plate, he wipes his mouth with a napkin.

His voice is small when he speaks. "How did your parents react when you came out as bi?" He asks and Harry is confused at the change of subject. He answers anyway. 

"My mum was amazing. She's always loved me, no matter what, and that didn't change at all. She's really supportive. She told me she was proud and happy that I was being myself. After that, we just went back to our lives as normal." He shrugs, a warm smile spreading across his face as he remembers the tears on her face, the kisses on his cheeks, and her telling him how incredibly proud she was.

"And your dad?" Louis adds on making Harry's smile drop slightly. 

"I never told my dad. He uh, never knew. He wasn't around anyway, so it didn't really matter what he thought." Harry begins squeezing his fingers at the mention of his father, suddenly remembering the reason he's on this trip in the first place. "Why do you ask?" He adds, looking back up to Louis.

Harry's gaze follows the bob of Louis' throat as he swallows. "I just came out to my parents recently." Louis explains. "Like, last week. Their reaction wasn’t great. They told me I was wrong , that I wasn’t gay, and that I didn't know what I was talking about. When I argued, they cut off my credit card and grounded me—  told me I could only go from school and back home. I'm twenty-two years old for fucks sake, and they grounded me for being gay." He rolls his eyes at Harry's surprised expression. "Yeah, yeah, I know," Louis adds, a hint of self-deprecation in his tone. "Poor little rich boy loses his credit card and suddenly the world is ending."

Harry shakes his head. That's not what he was thinking at all.

"The final nail in my coffin was when I told them I was dropping out of business school and had no plans to join their company after graduation. That's when they kicked me out. They made it clear that if I wouldn't follow the path they'd laid out for me, I was no longer their son." His voice takes on a rough edge, a blend of hurt and simmering resentment.

“That’s awful, Louis. I’m so sorry.” Harry knows his words are useless, that he’s practically a stranger to Louis, and his mere apology won’t erase the hurt inflicted by the people who are supposed to love him unconditionally. 

"They weren't even the ones who raised me.”  Louis scoffs, a humorless laugh escaping him. "We had nannies for that. Probably explains why my mother kept having kids— she didn't have to put in the work."

Harry doesn't know what to say. He's never had anything other than love and support from his own mum. She encourages him to follow his dreams, and gives him the space to figure them out. She never asks for Harry to be anything other than his own authentic self. She has always done whatever she could to support him and gave him whatever he needed. He’ll never be anything but grateful for the sacrifices she has made for him over the last twenty years. 

He offers Louis a sympathetic smile and encourages him to continue.

"I packed everything I could fit into my one bag and went to leave. I grabbed my car keys only to have them snatched back out of my hand, my dad laughing in my face at the thought that I would take the car that he had given me." Harry feels a pang of sympathy, imagining the feeling of being so powerless. Despite his own father's flaws, he can’t fathom such intentional cruelty.

Harry can see Louis is getting upset so he reaches across the table and rubs his hand soothingly over his forearm.

"The hardest part wasn't even leaving my car or the house or all my things. It wasn't having my credit card cut up in front of me as punishment, and it wasn't even leaving my parents who I had thought would support me no matter what." Stifling a sob, Louis continues. "It was leaving my siblings. I've always been really close with them all. The youngest ones are only babies and I don't think they'll even remember me if I'm gone for too long." 

There’s a few stray tears falling from Louis’ eyes and Harry resists the urge to blot them away. The blue is striking against the redness framing then. He’s beautiful , and Harry is amazed that he’s able to keep himself together.

"I don't even know where I was going. I had enough money for a ferry ticket and thought if I could just get far enough away from them, I'd just start a new life on my own. I'm one day in and I already failed." He shakes his head.

"You haven't failed, Lou. You made it this far. Your mate not being home is just a small curveball. We'll figure it out, yeah?"

"We?" Louis asks in surprise, making Harry's cheeks heat up. "I can't even afford to pay for dinner, Harry. I'm not about to drag you down with me." He says with a sad sigh.

"Don’t worry about me." Harry says decisively and gives Louis’ arm a gentle squeeze. 

They finish their dinner and then head off towards the tower. It's a nice night, the earlier rain has cleared and a warm summer breeze fills the air. It's just getting dark and the city is bustling with people and cars everywhere. Cafes and restaurants line the sidewalks, little shops staying open late to make the most of the busy streets.

Harry steers them into a souvenir boutique and with a curious look from Louis, Harry explains that he had promised his mum he'd buy her a fridge magnet at each of his stops.

He finds the ideal magnet of the sparkling, lit-up Eiffel Tower. After paying, he pulls it from the paper bag as they round the corner, taking a moment to admire its image. Just then, Louis stops suddenly, his hand on Harry's bicep, halting him in place. Before Harry can question what's wrong, he sees the direction of Louis' focus. There it was, the actual tower in its breathtaking splendour, bathed in lights that stretches into the purple sky and shimmers down its wrought iron structure.

They're both speechless. Standing a foot apart, Louis is still holding Harry's arm. Harry looks down at his magnet and back to the tower, his mouth agape in awe.

"The magnet doesn't quite do it justice." He says quietly as though he'll shatter this moment if he speaks too loudly.

Louis finally breaks his gaze to look at Harry. "I've never seen it at night." He says just as quietly. It takes them both several more minutes to snap out of their trance and make a move back to the hotel. Their stroll back is unrushed. They stop for gelato along the river and chat about themselves. Harry tells Louis how he's at school studying art because it interests him and he's good at it, but he has no idea what path he wants to take when he's finished.

Louis fills him in on how he never wanted to be a part of his family business but never felt like he had a choice. He admits to Harry that he genuinely hadn’t been expecting any of this to happen when he came out to his parents, but he also feels like he's gained some freedom amongst the chaos. That he's in charge of his life for the first time ever.

Ignoring the niggling feeling in his belly, Harry doesn’t dwell on the way this night feels suspiciously like a date. The fact that they're participating in traditionally romantic outings in the "city of love" doesn't register with him, at least not consciously. He shakes his head, abruptly changing the subject in his mind.

As they walk to Harry's hotel room, Louis' spirits seem to dampen. The fact that he has no place to go tonight hits him hard.

"You can stay here." Harry says immediately, as if he's reading Louis' mind. Louis' gaze snaps to Harry and he shakes his head. 

"No, Harry. You’ve done more than enough for me already. I can't ask for any more than that."

"Seriously, Lou, it's no trouble at all. I wouldn't suggest it if I wasn't comfortable. You could even come to Italy with me, and it wouldn't bother me one bit." The offer slips out surprisingly easily, but he finds he doesn’t regret it. He genuinely enjoys Louis' company, and he’s pretty confident Louis isn’t some homicidal maniac waiting for the perfect moment. They'd only just met this morning, but after a full day together, he isn’t tired of him yet, which as someone who usually prefers his own company— was saying something.

"Harry I— I can't impose on you like that. Especially when I can't contribute anything to the trip." He sounds like he's battling with himself in his mind. Harry can see that he's considering the offer, but is trying to do the right thing by Harry. This only makes Harry more sure that he has nothing to worry about.

Before Louis can say anything, his phone rings loudly in his pocket. He glances at the caller ID, urgency flashing across his face, and quickly answers. Harry doesn’t hear the name before Louis excuses himself with a raised finger and dashes out the door.

Minutes crawl by, and a knot of worry tightens in Harry's chest. Maybe Louis isn't coming back after all. He rises from the bed, intending to check the street below, but trips on a bag. Louis' bag. Relief washes over him— of course he's coming back. He gazes out at the glittering Parisian night, the city dazzling, almost as bright as day. Leaving the curtains open, he settles back on the bed, the mesmerizing view filling his sight.

A moment later, Louis slips back into the room, moving with quiet care as if not to disturb a sleeping Harry. But Harry had already turned over, now facing him. To Harry's surprise, Louis looks happy. The tension that had gripped his shoulders before he’d stepped out seems to have vanished, replaced by a genuine, relaxed smile. Harry watches as Louis enters further and begins rummaging through his bag. Noticing Harry's gaze, Louis freezes, his movements halting mid-action.

"What are you smiling about?" Harry asks, his question only causing Louis' grin to widen further, if such a thing were even possible.

"You still want some company to Italy?" Louis asks, his response sidestepping Harry's question entirely.

Harry raises an eyebrow. "Of course." He starts. "What changed your mind?"

"That was my sister, Lottie." Louis says, returning to his bag. "She's really upset about what my parents did. She wants to send me some money, help me out until I get on my feet... Ah ha!" He exclaims, pulling out a checkbook with a victorious flourish.

Harry smiles at how much more relaxed he looks. It eases some of the worry Harry hadn’t even realised he’d been holding for the man. 

"The last thing I want is to be using my parents' money, but I honestly don't know what else to do. I'm literally broke and homeless right now."

Harry nods, happy that Louis will be able to come along for the trip without the guilt of not being able to contribute, not that it mattered to him. 

"It's been ages since I was last there, I was just a kid," He says, his excitement evident. He glances up at Harry, a flicker of concern in his eyes. "You really don't mind me coming, do you?"

Harry waves him off, assuring him. "Absolutely not," He replies, "I'm just as excited. As long as you don't mind sharing this bed?" Harry asks in realisation. "I obviously thought it would only be me when I booked the room."

Louis laughs it off and tells him it's fine. That he's not fussed and he's just happy he's not sleeping outside.

After changing for bed, they slip beneath the covers. The bed is cramped, their sides touching, a closeness they both seem to accept without comment. Both dressed in sweatpants and t-shirts, but Harry is uncomfortably warm. He can feel the heat emanating from Louis, and knows he must be feeling it too.

Harry's voice, hesitant and awkward, slices through the thick silence. "Would it...um...would it be weird if I took my clothes off?" He stammers, immediately cringing internally at the way the question had come out. "It's just really fucking hot, is all.” He adds with a nervous chuckle. Louis responds with a huffed laugh.

A relieved groan escapes Louis as he practically launches himself from the bed. "Thank god.” He mutters, "I was absolutely roasting in there. Didn't want to get weird by stripping down, but if you're doing it, I guess that's fine." He lets out a laugh and pulls his shirt off.

Stripped down to their boxers, they collapse back onto the bed, too tired to pull up the covers. The exhaustion from their long day is palpable, and they need rest for the early start ahead.

"Where to next?" The words, barely audible and laced with sleep, float from Louis into the darkness.

"Interlaken, Switzerland." Harry replies with a yawn, unable to keep his eyes open. 

Louis huffs a laugh. "Never been to Switzerland before. I’m excited.” 

Harry sets an alarm for eight with a plan to be on the road by nine. "Mind if I switch the fan on?" Louis asks and Harry hums sleepily in agreement. "I like the noise it makes, it helps me sleep." He adds and Harry smiles. Because, same.

Curled up side-by-side, they drift off to sleep easily, their backs resting on the hard mattress. The closeness creates a sticky warmth, but neither seems to mind.

As sleep claims him, Harry's mind lingers on the shimmering lights of the Eiffel Tower. Within that glow, he sees Louis' face, illuminated and unforgettable.

Chapter Text

Harry begins to stir before his alarm can sound. The warm sun is streaming in through the window and down onto his bare chest, warming him down to his bones. With his eyes still closed, he listens to the birds singing on the windowsill and the sounds of the street below as the city slowly starts to wake up alongside.

He goes rigid, surprised by a warm arm suddenly circling his waist and a soft nose nuzzling his ribs. Before he can react, Louis yanks his arm back. "Shit." Louis groans, burying his face in his hands as he rolls onto his side, away from Harry. "Sorry, Haz. I'm not used to sleeping next to anyone. Guess I usually just cuddle my pillow." He finishes with a self-deprecating, sleepy laugh.

"It's alright.” Harry replies, choosing his words carefully not to embarrass him. "I don't mind a cuddle." The additional words slip out before he can stop them, and he instantly wished he'd kept the last part to himself.  Louis chuckles, sliding out of bed and over to the sink, where he drinks directly from the tap.

Since they're awake earlier than planned, they take turns heading down the hall to shower and get dressed before walking down the block to find a bakery for breakfast.

Harry orders a black coffee and a croissant and Louis gets a tea and a danish. They sit in the sun and say nothing as they eat, just groan at each delicious bite they take.

Once they’ve cleared out the hotel room and packed the car, they head off in search of a bank so Louis can make a withdrawal from his sister's account. "Petrol and snacks are on me today!" Louis muses as they pull out of the city centre and towards the motorway.

~

Louis has fallen asleep. Again. They’re well into their journey to Switzerland, and Harry is dying of boredom. The scenery offers little more than fields and trees, punctuated by the occasional rest area. The road stretches on in front of them, mostly deserted aside from the sporadic passing car. He'd been amused by the sheep and cows in the first hour, but three hours in, he barely even glances at them.

He'd gone into this thinking he'd manage just fine by himself, maybe even enjoy it. But the reality is different. With his music silenced, he's only got his thoughts to keep him company, and that's a place he generally tries to avoid.

Harry hesitates to wake him, unsure of how he'll react to being roused from his nap. Then, spotting a rough patch in the road ahead, Harry sees his opportunity. He accelerates slightly, gently veering towards an uneven surface in the road, driving over it with just enough speed to send the car bouncing, the tires groaning against the asphalt.

"Jesus!" Louis gasps, hand clutching at his chest. He jerks upright, eyes wide and darting around as if disoriented. Meanwhile, Harry resumes driving calmly, glancing over at Louis with an expression that suggests nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

"Something wrong?" Harry asks with a smirk, giving himself away. 

“What did you do?" Louis exhales heavily, trying to calm his breath. "Thought I was falling off a cliff." Harry laughs at the dramatics and makes a turn to pull off the road and into a truck stop.

"Hungry?" Harry asks to change the subject. Louis eyes him suspiciously, but doesn't say anything else about it.

"I'm always hungry, Haz." Louis says. Harry smiles at the nickname. "Food is definitely the way to my heart." He adds, as they walked toward the truck stop diner.

"Good to know." Harry says, his words carrying a note that could be interpreted as either genuine interest or something more calculating. Louis, seemingly oblivious, gives no indication that he’s picked up on either possibility.

After stretching their legs, they settle into a booth towards the back of the diner. It's surprisingly busy for a rest stop in the middle of nowhere in the French countryside.

Harry's efforts to decipher the entirely French menu are clearly failing, and when he glances up at Louis he sees his poor attempts at hiding his amusement. "Enjoying my struggle, are you?" Harry asks, his lower lip jutting out in a mock pout.

"Just seeing how long it takes you to realise it's all in English on the other side." Louis says, turning his own menu around to reveal the detail Harry had missed when he grabbed his.

Harry keeps the pout on his face as he sulks down at the English menu. 

"You're really bloody cute when you do that." Louis says offhandedly. Harry raises an eyebrow in surprise, that being the last thing he’d been expecting Louis to say. He just laughs when he sees Harry’s confused expression. "You’re just— okay, you’re like this big, scary looking tattooed pirate with your long curly hair and your cross necklace and all those bloody rings on your hands. Then you go and make a pouty face like a sulky little kitten and counteract everything I assumed about you."

"What was it you assumed about me?" Harry asks with genuine curiosity.

"Well.. For one, I was a little afraid to get into the car with you yesterday at the ferry dock." He starts and Harry is surprised at this.

" You were afraid? I was the one picking up a hitchhiker, aren't they traditionally the ones who are serial killers? Not the other way round?" It was a blatant lie. From the moment Louis had collapsed into his car, looking like a lost, rain-soaked puppy, Harry had felt no unease whatsoever.

"It wasn't like I had much of a say, anyway.” He says, a shrug accompanying the sentence. "Nobody else was exactly lining up to offer me a ride." He takes a sip of his water, the beads of condensation tracing a path down his chin. Harry finds himself captivated, watching the droplet’s slow journey along Louis' throat.

The waitress's arrival breaks the fragile spell Harry had fallen under. She takes their orders, and with a smile, they return the menus as she turns to go back towards the kitchen.

"I recognised you from the ferry." Harry confesses. "You were smoking on the sun deck. I was up there when you were up there."

"I thought it was you.” Louis says, as if the idea had been brewing for some time. "You were scribbling in your notebook?" He asks and Harry nods. "Well." Louis continues, shrugging with an almost dismissive air. "I suppose I should thank you for distracting me enough to stop me from throwing myself into the English Channel."

The shock on Harry's face must register quickly, because he immediately adds, "I wouldn't have... thrown myself off, I mean. Sorry. Suicide jokes aren't funny." He shakes his head, self-deprecating, and Harry smirks, relieved that it was just a poorly chosen joke.

Their food arrives a short time later and after a quick trip to the restroom, they fuel up the car and stock up on candy then they’re ready to get back on the road.

"Do you want me to drive?" Louis asks. "You drove all day yesterday and you've been going for hours today."

Harry really could use a break, but he also promised Niall he would take good care of his car. He's not sure letting someone he barely knows behind the wheel is such a good idea. But he's tired, and driving while tired can't be safe for either of them and definitely not for the car. He thinks Niall would rather he rest than risk falling asleep at the wheel.

"Okay. Yeah, thanks." He says, passing Louis the keys and hopping into the passenger seat. Louis starts the car and pulls away from the truck stop a little faster than Harry would have done.

"Relax, Harry. I'll be careful. Who's car is this anyway? You said yesterday that it wasn't yours?”

"My friend Niall.” He explains, a smile playing on his lips. "He's spending the summer in the States, and when I mentioned I needed to get to Italy, he offered me his car. Actually, it was his idea that I drive. I've never really traveled before." He shakes his head, still touched by his friend's easy generosity.

Niall has always been incredibly generous, the type of person who would give a stranger the shirt off his back. He once literally gave his shirt to a homeless man they encountered on their way home from a night out. The man was shivering in the freezing cold, wearing only a thin, worn singlet. Niall didn't stop there— he also gave him all the cash he had left.

He smiles at the memory and reminds himself to give Niall a call when they reach their hotel later to see how his flight went.

Stifling a yawn for maybe the tenth time since they got back in the car, Louis tells him to take a nap. He cautiously eyes Louis' driving, then checks the navigation system is working properly, leading them in the right direction.

When he has no reason left not to have a rest, he lays his head against the cold glass of the window and shuts his eyes, the soft sound of the arctic monkeys humming quietly through the stereo enough to lull him to sleep.

~

Harry feels like he's been asleep for about thirty seconds when he's being shaken awake by Louis. The car is stopped and he immediately shoots up in panic. "What's wrong? What happened to the car?" He rushes out, still groggy and half asleep.

"Nothings wrong." Louis chuckles and Harry breathes a sigh of relief when he sees they’re in a line of traffic. "God, you're dramatic. We're just at the border, we gotta get cleared by customs to go through. You got your passport?"

Passport, Harry thinks with a hint of panic. Of course he has his passport. Why wouldn't he? There's no reason why it wouldn't be in the front pocket of his backpack where he'd put it after the checks on the ferry.

Still, his heart rate picks up and his palms start to sweat, his heart still beating rapidly from the sudden wake up. Louis is just looking at him like he's mad when Harry suddenly throws off his seatbelt and launches himself into the backseat to rummage through his bags.

"Jesus, Harry I can pull over—" Louis says in surprise, but Harry is almost entirely in the backseat at this point. He tips the entire contents of his backpack onto the floor, barely noticing as Louis pulls the car from the queue and off to the side of the road.

"Harry.." Louis says, clearly holding back an amused laugh for Harry's sake.

"I can't find it!" Harry turns back to Louis, face paled at the thought of having lost it. "Shit! It was in here on the ferry—" Louis reaches back and stops Harry's frantic movements by taking his hand in his own, gently pulling Harry back into the front seat.

"Haz. Breathe, okay?" Louis says in a voice that calms Harry down just a notch. "I'll help you look. Come on, let's get out and look properly, yeah?"

They both get out and move to the back doors, Harry flinging his side open a little more manically than Louis does. They rummage through Harry's bags, pulling clothes out, tipping up his toiletries bag, zipping and unzipping over and over.

Harry wracks his brain trying to think of where he could have lost it. He didn't take it out when they got to the hotel yesterday, and he didn't have it on him when they wandered around in Paris. He's certain that he put it straight back into his backpack at the customs checkpoint on the ferry dock.

"Hey— Harry, it's alright." The words barely reach Harry’s ears, too consumed by a spiraling panic, his breath hitching in his chest. Only the touch of Louis' hand on his back pulls him slightly back to the present moment, and Harry manages to turn his body to steady himself against the car. The fear of being stranded in a foreign country without his passport fuels a torrent of worst-case scenarios. Prison, isolation, missing the funeral, and the terrifying prospect of being unable to return to London.

A soft weight settles on Harry's chest, but his eyes remain stubbornly shut. He feels consumed by the frantic battle to fill his lungs, each attempt a frustrating, shallow gasp. Panic tightens its grip with every failed inhale. Through the ringing in his ears, a muffled voice struggles to reach him. Then, hesitantly, his hands are guided upward, pressing against the rise and fall of Louis' chest, feeling the reassuring rhythm of steady breaths.

"Harry, can you feel that? Try and copy my breathing, okay?" His voice is soft and soothing but when Harry forces his eyes open, he’s met with a look of confused panic all over Louis’ face. "Deep breaths, love. You can do it." He adds with an encouraging smile.

The suffocating tightness in Harry’s chest begins to ease as he draws in breaths that feel deeper and fuller. After a few lingering coughs, he can finally see clearly. Louis’ hands are warm and strong, pressing Harry’s against his solid chest. The gentle rhythm of Louis’ breathing acted as an anchor, helping Harry regain his balance.

The worry etched on Louis’ face makes Harry feel like a complete idiot. He blinks away the tears in his eyes and can finally breathe again.

"You're back!" Louis cheers and Harry can't help the heat creep up his neck into his cheeks as he flushes in embarrassment. 

"Yeah. I'm okay. Sorry." Is all he says back, looking anywhere but at Louis to avoid his judgement.

Louis shakes his head. “It's alright, Harry. My sister used to have panic attacks when she'd get stressed at school. Had to help her out of them a few times." Harry is suddenly aware of his hands that are still on Louis' chest and reluctantly moves to pull them away, but Louis' grip on them is too firm, and he holds them in place against himself.

His gaze lingers on Harry, a silent question asking if he is truly alright, before he softly lets go of Harry's hands. Harry, in turn, rubs his hands across his face, noticing the clammy mix of sweat and tears. He then sweeps his hair back and draws a deep, stabilising breath.

"Okay." Louis announces, clapping his hands together. "We're going to look again. Calmer this time, alright?" Harry nods as they pull the bags out one by one and place them on the grass. They pull everything out and set it aside, searching every zip and every pocket inside and out. 

Harry's hand dives into his backpack, pulling out his notebook. And there it is— his passport, nestled within the front cover. A wave of relief washes over him, so intense it brings a fresh prickling of tears to his eyes. The panic had been pointless, he thinks. Yet, that was his usual pattern; his anxiety latches onto the smallest things, magnifying them until the pressure builds and finally explodes in a panic attack.

"Ah, you found it!" Louis cheers as he's stacking bags back into the car. 

"Yeah, sorry. All that stupid panic for nothing." Harry tries to lighten the mood with an unconvincing chuckle, but Louis clearly doesn't buy it. 

"It's not stupid, Harry. We all get overwhelmed.” Harry goes to argue but Louis stops him with a warning look. “Hey, the first time you saw me I was in tears and questioning my entire life's purpose. Everyone is entitled to feel how they feel."

Louis' kind words feel like a balm, and a wave of relief washes over him, diminishing the self-condemnation and validating his emotions. This was only the second time he'd experienced an attack in front of another person, besides his mum. Usually, he'd retreat to the privacy of his dorm or a public restroom, wrestling with it in silent isolation, desperate to remain unnoticed.

He had attempted to be vulnerable with Mia throughout their year-long relationship, but she consistently met his attempts with dismissive scoffs, telling him he was being overly dramatic and needed to "relax." That should have been his first clue, the first of many red flags he foolishly ignored. 

Harry has spent the time since then suppressing his anxiety in public, only allowing himself to feel it when alone. But Louis is different. Even though they had just met yesterday, he not only makes Harry feel comfortable being himself, he also makes him realise his vulnerability isn’t a burden.

They return to the car, Harry making absolutely sure they haven’t left anything behind, and merge back into the line of cars advancing towards the checkpoint. After a swift review of paperwork and vehicle check, they find themselves finally passing into Switzerland.

~

"Holy shit.” They say in perfect unison, the words escaping them in a shared breath. The sun's harsh glare warms their faces as they stand by the lake, just off the main road. A vibrant carpet of wildflowers lines the street, their heady scent making Harry's nose twitch, but the sight before them completely overshadowing any discomfort.

The clear-blue expanse of water shimmers under the afternoon sun, its surface a flawless reflection of the scattered white clouds above. On the right, the horizon is framed by mountains, their snow-dusted peaks a stark contrast to the hot summer day. To the left is the distant view of the town they’ll be spending the night in. 

After their brief pit stop to take in the view, they head to Harry's pre-booked hotel. He made a point of choosing one right on the lake with a view of the mountains. He's only in each place for a short time and while there are many things he won't have time to do, he wants to make the most of the time he does have.

The town is beautiful, old churches and historical hotels line the main road, the shops and cafes are all classically Swiss and Harry can't help but swoon over the charm of it.

They're taken to the room and the first thing Harry notices is the big bed in the centre, that is in fact two single beds pushed together. He makes a mental note to pry them apart later on. The second thing he notices is the wood. Wooden walls, wooden ceiling, wooden floors and every bit of furniture— wooden. Even the mini fridge under the desk has a wood grain cover over its door. Harry smiles to himself at the decor.

It's late afternoon and both boys are starving, so they dump their bags on the bed, change into nicer clothes and head out to find somewhere for dinner. On their way past the hotel reception, a young girl behind the desk suggests the brewery at the top of the hill, explaining that the food is amazing and their locally made whisky is some of the best in the world. Harry and Louis share a look of excitement as they thank the girl and head outside.

It's still warm out, the sun tucking itself into the glowing horizon beyond the lake. The mountain air sends a cool breeze through the winding streets and Harry's flowing shirt, making his skin prickle with goosebumps.

Harry's eyes fall on Louis' button-down, a dark blue shirt sprinkled with tiny white dots. He registers that Louis has buttoned his shirt completely, right up to the collar, a complete contrast from his own, which hangs open.

He pulls his eyes away from Louis’ body, and distracts himself by tugging his hair up into a bun to keep it from his face. They finally make it to the brewery, both out of breath at the change in altitude and they share a laugh as they puff and pant like they've been running, and not casually strolling.

They grab a table by the wall of windows and take in the view. The sunset has painted the distant mountains a glowing pink, and the sky behind it is a mix of orange, yellow and purple.

Harry's breath is all but stolen as he gazes out at the incredible, picturesque landscape. As he turns to say something to Louis, the words catch in his throat. He's struck by how mesmerising Louis is, too. His sharp features are aglow in the dim sunlight, his blue eyes are shining gold as the light gleams through the windows and into the restaurant. 

There’s a serene smile on his face, and Harry closes his mouth and turns back to the view, not wanting to ruin the peaceful moment.

~

They're five whiskeys, five beers and five shared appetisers in, when the waitress comes around with a broom, stacking up the surrounding chairs onto the already cleaned tables. Neither had realised they were the only remaining patrons in the restaurant, too engrossed in the easy conversations and teasing banter between them to pay any mind to their surroundings. Her not-so-subtle sweep under their table, bumping their feet with the broom brings them back to reality.

They apologise profusely, making sure to leave her a decent tip when they fix up their bill. She really was lovely while serving them, helping them decide what food goes best with which drink and bringing them multiple options and tastings and explaining to them all about the distilling process.

They are both unsteady on their feet the moment they step outside. The walk to the hotel was short, just down the steep hill, but the tripping and swaying makes it seem like it will take all night.

The walk down the hill somehow seems to have amplified Harry's intoxication, leaving him feeling even more lightheaded. As they stroll beside the lake, Harry suddenly stumbles, his shoes tangling him up and sending him sprawling towards the water's edge. In a flash of melodramatic realisation, his life reels before his eyes, only to be interrupted by a firm grip on his waist. He is pulled back abruptly, colliding into Louis which sends them both tumbling onto the hard stone path.

"Jesus, Harry." Louis groans out at the weight of Harry's body slumped on top of him. 

"Shit." Harry stumbles to his feet as quickly as his soupy mind will allow him. "Lou. Are you okay? I'm so sorry. Did you hit your head?" He rushes out, reaching down to hell Louis up. 

Louis shakes his head, an amused grin playing on his lips as he takes Harry's hand. "I’m—" He doesn’t get to finish as Harry pulls him up too quickly, resulting in a soft collision. They find themselves chest to chest, faces mere inches apart. "—fine." Louis manages, his voice softer and slightly breathless.

Locked in place, they stay that way for what feels like hours, but Harry guesses it’s likely only half a second. Louis' hand is firm against his chest, and Harry's hand remains clasped around Louis's.

Louis clears his throat and Harry takes that as his cue. He draws back and lets go of Louis' hand, and they walk on in silence. Harry's mind is a drunken haze, but he’s certain he can still feel the press of Louis' hand against his chest and the warm, whisky-laced scent of his breath on his cheek.

They stumble through the door and into their room, neither of them saying a word as they strip down to their boxers and fall onto the bed. A part of Harry's mind, still swimming in a haze, whispers that he should pull the beds apart, but his body is a leaden weight, refusing to obey.

Chapter Text

Harry's eyes snap open, his chest heaving with a sudden jolt. He flies out of bed and scrambles across the floor in a heartbeat, barely reaching the toilet before his stomach empties itself in a violent rush.

Struggling to draw a breath as the contents of his stomach are forced back up, the sounds of his retching and gagging reverberate in the cramped bathroom serving to hammer at the already aching pain in his head.

His bones feel non-existent as he kneels on the cold tile floor, and unable to hold up the weight of his head, he rests it down on his arm across the toilet seat.

The contractions in his stomach slow, and once he's sure they're truly done, he allows himself to close his eyes. Slumped against the toilet seat in a cold sweat, he succumbs to sleep again. He offers a silent thanks to his past self that he’d secured his hair before falling asleep last night.

~

“Harry?" A soft voice drifts through the bathroom door, followed by insistent taps. A pained groan escapes Harry as he rubs his face. His arm, a traitor now riddled with pins and needles, buckles under his weight when he attempts to lift himself, ending in a defeated collapse back onto the floor.

"Are you alright in there, love?" Louis asks, this time trying the handle. When he realises it's unlocked, he asks if he can come in. 

“Mhm." Harry manages to get out, hauling himself up to lean against the wall and closing his burning eyes.

"You look terrible, Haz." Louis whispers with a chuckle, kneeling down beside Harry and flushing the toilet. Harry grimaces as he realises he was sleeping over the toilet while it was full of his sick.

He feels a cool hand press against his forehead before a loose strand of hair is tucked behind his ear. He hears the cabinet bang and the tap turn on before a glass is placed in his hand. "Drink." Is all Louis says before he is standing up and leaving the room.

It's brighter outside the window when Harry can finally squint his eyes open again, probably late morning. Harry scolds himself for being hungover when they were supposed to be on the road hours ago.

He can't bring himself to move, his arms still feeling like jelly as he struggles to bring the cup to his mouth to drink the water his body is screaming out for.

Louis returns a few moments later with two pain killers and some of his clean clothes tucked under his arm. He looks perfectly fine, well-rested even. Harry glares at him while popping the pills and tries not to gag at the feeling of them sliding down his dry throat.

"I need a shower, think you can get up? You should go lay back down in bed and get some more rest." Louis says as he turns on the shower head. Harry doesn't make an effort to move. "Or you can stay in here? I don't mind." He adds with a wink, his thumbs ticking into the waist of his boxers. 

Harry's eyes roll, but a reluctant smile finally breaks through. "No more sleep, we've got to reach Venice today.” He mumbles, a yawn punctuating his words. He makes a valiant effort to sit up, but his legs, still unsteady, buckle beneath him. He reaches out, his hand finding the cool porcelain of the sink, just as Louis crosses the room. A firm hand on his arm steadies him before he tumbles.

"Thanks." Harry whispers and Louis releases him once he’s found his feet. Harry stumbles towards the door and closes it behind him. He looks down at the bed and as much as he wants to crawl back under the rumpled covers, he knows that if he does, they won't be leaving Interlaken today.

Instead, he grabs out some clothes for the day— some gym shorts and a white muscle tank. The thought of wearing tight jeans today makes him hot and nauseous all over again.

He gathers his remaining belongings, then settles on the edge of the bed, his mind adrift  as he waits for the shower. Eventually,  Louis steps out, dressed in jean shorts and a black tank, his wet hair slicked back, little drops of water clinging to him. The light stubble is gone, revealing smooth skin that makes him look years younger. Harry's fingers give a little fidget at the sudden thought of what that freshly shaved skin might feel like.

He cringes at his own stupidity, dismissing the thought with a shake of his head. Squeezing past Louis and into the bathroom, he catches his reflection in the fogged mirror. His pale complexion stands out against the dark circles under his puffy eyes, and his hair is a messy, sweaty tangle.

He switches on the shower, hoping to regain some semblance of control. A sharp headache pulses behind his eyes, and his stomach clenches. He leans over the sink, fighting against the nausea and the threat of blacking out. 

After he's thoroughly scrubbed every inch of his body, and had a wank in a sad attempt to make him feel better (it doesn't), he gets dressed and tries to pull himself together for the day ahead. The pair head down to the reception to check out of the room, then Harry pulls on a pair of sunglasses to ward off the late morning sun.

They pack the bags into the car and when Harry makes a move for the driver side door, Louis stops him. "Don't be daft." He says, grabbing the keys from Harry's hand.

Harry looks at him confused. "You drove nearly the whole way yesterday, Lou. I can't ask you to drive again today, it's like another six hours." Harry protests.

"It's fine, really. I don't mind at all.” Louis says. "Besides, you're looking a bit green. I think you could use a rest." Harry sighs, but a grateful smile tugs at his lips as he accepts and heads to the passenger side. To grab a souvenir magnet and some snacks for the road, they make a quick stop at the general store before leaving town.

"I don't understand how you're completely fine this morning and I'm so sick." Harry groans a while into the drive. Louis steals a glance at him and smiles ruefully before facing back to the road.

"I uh.. I used to drink. Like, a lot." Louis stutters out. Harry nods and encourages him to go on. "Since high school, I've always been a bit of a party animal. Spent most nights during my first year of uni completely black-out drunk and hardly went to any of my classes. It wasn’t until they threatened to kick me out that I started taking school a bit more seriously. The wrath of my parents was far scarier than any consequence from my professors." He's smiling, but Harry can see that there's little humour behind his words.

"Then I got to my final year and struggled under the pressure. I was drinking again but this time it was throughout the day. I'd show up to class drunk and pass out on my desk halfway through the lecture. I honestly don't know how I didn't get kicked out. I reckon my parents were paying them to let me stay."

Harry's face creases with concern at the obvious ache in Louis' tone, yet he keeps quiet. A dry, humourless laugh follows from Louis as he continues.

“They always prioritised my academic success and future employment with them above everything else, without considering my mental or physical well-being. As long as I met their standards on paper, nothing else mattered. When I came out as gay, it felt like all my achievements were invalidated. Suddenly, my sexual orientation was the only thing they saw, and their disgust made all my previous efforts seem insignificant.”

Harry’s heart aches for Louis and what he’s had to go through from such a young age. With that amount of pressure, it’s no wonder he was crumbling beneath it. 

"It was so easy for them to toss me aside. Their own son, like I meant nothing to them. And now here I am— No idea what I want out of life, a degree in something I spent four years getting and will probably never use, siblings I'm no longer allowed to see." Harry sees the tears filling his eyes at the thought of his sisters and his brother. He reaches out and offers a gentle squeeze to Louis' shoulder.

"I'm really sorry, Lou." He offers uselessly. "You deserve a lot better than all of that." He gets a sad smile in return before Louis focuses back on the road.

"You're lucky." Louis says after a few moments in silence. Harry gives him a questioning look. "Your mum loves and accepts you no matter what. You're on your way to Italy to see family. I don't have anyone else. No grandparents to turn to, no cousins..”

Harry isn’t able to suppress a scoff. Louis turns to him, a puzzled frown creasing his brow as if he can’t comprehend Harry's lack of enthusiasm. For a moment, Harry considers keeping his misgivings quiet, letting Louis have his moment without making it about himself. Yet, he also doesn’t want Louis to believe he has it all together. He wants Louis to know that he’s not alone. 

"I'm on my way to Italy for my fathers funeral." He starts and Louis' brows immediately shoot up. "I'm about to meet family members who have no idea I even exist, and I’m pretty certain he was cheating on his wife with my mum when I was conceived which is why no one knows about me. I only know my one aunt, who my father would palm me off at every chance he got.”

Louis looks over in surprise at Harry’s sudden admission. "Wow— Jesus,  Harry. That’s.. I had no idea. I'm really sorry." Harry just shrugs. He doesn't need Louis to be sorry. None of this is new to Harry, it's been this way his whole life.

"It's fine. I'm more nervous about what they'll all think of me. I'm about to reveal this big family secret that will ruin his entire reputation."

"What was he like?" Louis asks.

"Well, I don't remember a lot. I decided at fourteen that I wanted nothing to do with him after he let me down one too many times. I haven’t seen or spoken to him since." He has no positive memories of his father, only disappointment and a profound lack of self-worth, instilled by the man who was meant to love him. "There was never any kind of relationship, I barely even flinched when I found out he had died."

"How did he pass?" Louis asks with a careful voice, eyes still carefully trained on the road

"Heart attack." Harry replies emotionless. "A worker found his body in his vineyard. Oh— he owned a winery in Naples. Was a bloody millionaire." He huffs a laugh, but there's no real humour behind it. “Left me and mum to fend for ourselves while he was probably sleeping on a pile of money every night."

Louis shakes his head. "That's awful."

"Eh, it was alright. I probably turned out better for not being raised by him. Mum was all I ever needed. She did a pretty good job on her own."

Louis gives him a smile that warms his heart, and Harry lets the feeling override any lingering bitterness he feels for his father. Then, they’re  interrupted by Harry’s phone ringing, the shrill tone reminding Harry that his head feels full of cement.

He grabs his phone out of the cup holder and sees Niall's name light up his screen with a very close up photo of Niall's eyeball as his profile picture. He presses the answer button and pulls it to his ear. 

"Niall! I meant to call you last night, sorry, but I was uh.. busy." He glances over at Louis who has a sly grin on his face.

“No worries, bro! How's the car? Taking care of her?” Niall yells far too loudly into the phone.

"She’s fine, don't worry. In her right now, actually." He smiles as he picks at a loose thread in his shorts.

“You’re not driving while you're on the phone, are you?” He sounds a little panicked and Harry laughs out loud.

Harry hesitates. "Uh... no. I picked up a hitchhiker and, uh, he's driving now." Niall erupts in laughter, loud and unrestrained, clearly convinced Harry is joking. His amusement continues through the phone until Louis joins in beside him with a booming laugh of his own. The sudden silence that follows makes it clear to Harry that Niall realises he was telling the truth.

“Harry..” Niall starts slowly. “Was that a joke? Tell me that laugh was on the radio and not a complete stranger driving my baby?”

Harry worries his lip, his gaze darting to Louis, a silent plea for help. Louis merely shrugs, eyes fixed on the road ahead. Some help you are, Harry thinks, a surge of panic washing over him.

"Ni, he's not just some stranger. I mean, I've only known him three days, but he's cool." He glances at Louis who's smirking. "He hasn't murdered me yet, anyway." He tries for a joke.

He hears Niall exhale heavily through the phone and prepares to be scolded. “Look, mate. I trust you, okay? But I’ve only upped my insurance to cover you if anything happens to the car. So just— just limit his driving if you can, yeah?” Harry is stunned into silence, guilt plaguing him at taking Niall’s kindness for granted.

“Actually, put him on. I wanna speak to him.”

Harry hesitates but puts the phone to Louis' ear, holding it in place so he can keep his hands on the wheel. "Hello?" Louis answers hesitantly.

Harry can't hear what Niall is saying, just a muffled voice and Louis nodding in agreement with the occasional 'mhm'.

"Alright then, mate. I will. Yeah, see ya." Louis finishes. Harry eyes him curiously as he takes back the phone. He goes to put it back to his own ear but notices Niall has already ended the call. He rolls his eyes and throws it back in the cup holder.

Turning back to Louis with a questioning look, he raises his hands gesturing for Louis to speak. "Well, what did he say?" He asks impatiently.

"Uh, he said if I hurt you or the car, he'd make me pay. He has 'people', apparently, and can make me vanish. Completely." A nervous scratch at his chin accompanies the stark words, which cut through to Harry.

Harry puts his face in his hands and shakes his head. "Lou, I'm so sorry. I can assure you that he wouldn’t hurt a fly."

"It's fine, Harry. Honestly. Besides, I've already vanished without a trace, so what's the worst he could do?" Louis attempts a laugh, but all that escapes is a hollow exhale.

~

They cross the border into Italy a short time later, just before Harry has the need to throw up again. Louis stops the car suddenly at Harry’s urgent insistence and Harry launches himself out into the grassy patch by the road. He heaves up the coffee and bagel he ate at their last stop, and Louis comes up behind him resting a hand on his shoulder and rubbing his back soothingly.

Embarrassed, Harry covers his face with a whine. "You must think I'm so fucking gross." He groans out and Louis laughs. "What's that, now? The forth time I've been sick in front of you today?"

"Trust me, Haz. I have six siblings." Louis starts as he pulls Harry's hair back from his face and secures it into a loose bun for him. "I've been around plenty of hungover teenagers, and babies with stomach bugs. It takes a lot to gross me out."

Louis then holds out a water bottle to Harry and he takes it gratefully, washing out his mouth and then they’re climbing back into the car. His head is back to pounding, so he pops some pain killers and rests back against the headrest. " Lou ." Harry whines as the car starts and the music plays a little too loud for his aching brain.

Louis laughs and reaches to turn the music down to barely a whisper. "You're a needy little thing when you're hungover, aren't you?"

"Mmm.. I am not." Harry grumbles with a petulant pout. Louis quirks his brow and levels him with a smirk.

“Okay, fine. I usually just want to be cuddled and told how pretty I am while watching movies in the dark. Preferably while being fed candy." He adds quickly as he looks out his window and not at louis. Louis lets out a thoughtful hum that Harry can't quite decipher before he's pulling back out onto the road.

Harry manages to sleep the rest of the way, and is actually feeling a little better as they approach Venice. Louis navigates skilfully and finds their hotel without any issue.

The building is old and grand and beautiful, and their room overlooks the city with a spectacular view of the canal. There's no elevator, so they haul their bags up the six flights to their room, exhausted and sweating by the time they reach their door.

Harry was able to change their room to a double in advance, so they have a bed each for a change. They throw their bags down on their chosen beds and take in the room. The walls are covered in antique gold and white patterned wallpaper, there's a chandelier in the centre of the ceiling, and the large windows span across the entire wall, each with heavy curtains draped over them. There's a small balcony through a sliding door, and a bathroom next to the entryway.

"Fucking hell." Louis laughs as he looks around at the extravagant space.

"Not bad for a budget hotel." Harry adds. "Imagine what the five star places look like."

They get settled in and spend the afternoon on the balcony in the sun while Louis smokes and Harry fills in his journal.

It's much warmer here than anywhere else they've been so far and even this late in the afternoon, the sun is browning their bare skin as they lounge outside.

"Can I ask you something?" Harry asks as he watches Louis laying back in his chair, arms behind his head and eyes closed.

"Go ahead." He shrugs without opening his eyes. He looks beautiful in the golden light, and Harry likes seeing him relaxed. It's a far cry from the panicked, sad boy he met just days ago.

"Where will you go now that we're in Italy?" He asks cautiously. Louis opens his eyes at that and looks across the balcony to Harry.

"I don't really know." He shrugs. "Was sort of just tagging along with you until you get sick of me, then I'll make my own way."

"I don't think I'll get sick of you." Harry says quietly over the rail of the balcony. "It's just— Once I've got the funeral over with, I'll be turning around and going back to London. You seem to want to get as far away from there as you can, I didn't think you'd want to be driven straight back again."

Louis looks deep in thought at the conversation and Harry feels a pang of guilt for ruining the relaxed mood he was in just seconds ago.

"I guess I better start figuring it out, hey?" He jokes, but Harry can see straight through it. It's Thursday today, and the funeral is on Tuesday. Harry frowns at the thought of only having Louis with him for a few more days. He doesn't want him to leave.

He had meticulously planned this whole trip with the intention of doing it solo. But now that he has Louis’ company, the thought of going on alone makes him wish he hadn't picked him up in the first place. Except that fleeting thought is a lie. He can't imagine having made it this far on his own. Louis is funny, and kind, and he makes everything a little bit brighter. He sings along to Harry's playlist even though he says he doesn't like his taste in music. He plays 'I spy' with him on the boring, straight country roads, and he eats the gummy bear flavours that Harry doesn't like, letting him have all the red ones to himself, knowing they’re Harry’s favourite.

It's only been a few days since they met, but they've been in each other's pockets since the minute Louis got in the car at the ferry dock. Harry can't imagine this trip continuing any other way.

Louis must notice the sadness on Harry’s face, he leans forward and rests his hand on Harry's knee. "Hey, I can't thank you enough for bringing me along with you, Harry." Louis says with complete sincerity. "I honest to god don't know where I'd be right now if you hadn't stopped and let me in your car. I'd probably be sleeping in the streets somewhere in France."

"Couldn't leave you out in the rain looking like a lost puppy.” Harry teases. Louis responds with a playful squeeze to Harry's knee. Startled, Harry kicks out his leg, the movement sending the table jolting and his glass of water tumbling down, soaking Louis' packet of cigarettes.

"Shit!" Harry yells, jumping up to grab the dripping wet pack only to find it empty. He sighs in relief and notices Louis still in his chair smirking up at him with his last cigarette tucked behind his ear.

"You're lucky I grabbed it out before you drowned it. It’s my last one. I'll have to grab some fancy Italian smokes before we get dinner." Louis says as Harry throws the wet packet at him, the soggy cardboard hitting him in the chest and bouncing to the tiled floor with a splat.

"It was your fault for grabbing my knee." Harry sulks moving off the balcony to grab a towel.

“Couldn't help myself. Didn't know you were so ticklish." Louis laughs and Harry tucks his smirk into his shoulder.

"I won't tell you how ticklish I am then in case you decide to use it against me." He adds as he mops up the spill. "Did you know some countries use tickling as a form of torture? I'd give up immediately and tell them whatever they wanted to know.”

They both laugh at the thought, Louis stating that he'll be sure to remember that the next time he wants something from Harry.

~

"Where should we go for dinner, then?" Louis asks once they’ve shower and gotten dressed in their nicer clothes.

Harry is starving. After throwing up most of the day, he's finally ready for some food. Maybe just water to drink tonight, though.

"There's a rooftop restaurant here, actually." Harry says as he buttons his shirt halfway, leaving the rest open. Harry catches as Louis' eyes trail down to his butterfly tattoo on his stomach and then back up to meet his eyes. 

Catching Harry's eye, a flush spreads across Louis'  cheeks. He quickly looks down, shrugging as he clears his throat. "Yeah, wherever you want to go.” He says, his voice a hint lower than usual. "I'm easy.” He finishes, looking back up, his eyes slightly darker.

Harry smirks, stomach fluttering as he silently preens at the thought that he has some kind of affect on Louis. They grab their jackets and head up to the rooftop.

It's dark out when they make it to the restaurant, but still warm. There’s a pleasant breeze blowing through Harry's hair and cooling his skin. The rooftop is decked out with lounge chairs and tall bar tables, with several larger dining tables tucked along the rail overlooking the water.

They choose a table by the edge of the building and admire the view of the sparkling city below. When their waiter arrives a short time later, Louis orders red wine and pizza, and Harry sticks to water and orders a chicken pasta. They continue to admire the view in a comfortable silence until the waiter returns with their plates. 

"What's your favourite food?" Harry asks casually as he twirls his pasta, attempting to keep the conversation as light as possible after their day of heavy hearted discussions.

"Hmm.." Louis taps his chin in thought. "I'd have to say pizza. Can't go wrong." He huffs a laugh as he picks up a slice and takes a bite. "Yours?"

"Pasta. Without a doubt. Literally any kind of pasta." His mouth is watering at the sight of the perfectly twirled pasta with creamy sauce over it. He digs in without hesitation and groans heartily when the taste hits his tongue.

"Must be good, your eyes literally just rolled back into your head." Louis laughs, covering a hand over his mouth so his food doesn't fall out.

"S'better than sex." Harry groans out between bites. "Seriously you have to taste this." He twirls some onto his fork and holds it out towards Louis, expecting him to just take the fork, but Harry is surprised when Louis leans over the table and lets Harry feed the pasta right into his mouth.

Louis pulls off the fork, eyes trained on Harry’s and sits back in his chair as he chews. Harry watches his throat bob as he swallows it down, and his mouth goes dry at the sight of Louis' tongue darting out and running over his bottom lip to collect some sauce he missed.

"It's good." Louis says, interrupting Harry's thoughts. "But if you think it's better than sex, you're clearly having sex with the wrong people." He smirks and goes back to his pizza.

Harry shoves more food into his mouth so he doesn’t accidentally say something stupid in response to that. Something like show me , or prove it .

Though they're full, Louis orders dessert and another glass of wine after they finish dinner. They sit and watch the boats paddle down the canal, watching the people moving about on the pathways and bridges as they go about their night.

Harry takes in the city and admires the incredible buildings. "Wish we could spend more time in each place." He says as he watches a boat float by, a couple cuddled close at the back with a blanket over their legs, content to look only at each other despite the stunning surroundings. "Would love to go on a boat through the canal some day." He sighs wistfully, then looks back up at Louis who is smiling at him with a soft look in his eyes.

A waitress comes by and hands them their dessert and they both groan at the sight. Harry rubs a hand over his stomach. "I'm going to need to unbutton my jeans soon." He says as he forks his chocolate tart. 

Louis starts laughing uncontrollably. "I unbuttoned mine half way through my pizza.” He laughs out, sending Harry into a fit of giggles.

They finish their dessert, each sharing a bite or two with the other between laughter and easy banter. They shift to the lounge chairs across the rooftop to unwind where Louis lights a cigarette and slumps back, legs spread, his jeans still unbuttoned. Harry, caught off guard, stares at him, unable to break his train of thought.

"What are you staring at?" Louis questions with a raised brow, his cheeks hollowing on a long inhale. 

"Nothing." Harry clears his throat, trying to reel back his next words. It doesn’t work. "Uh, I was just curious if.. if that's what you look like when you light a cigarette after sex, all sprawled out in bed." Louis erupts in laughter, doubling over. He clutches his stomach, hacking from the smoke he’d just inhaled. Harry's cheeks burn hot at his careless honesty.

"Jesus, Harry! That's the last thing I expected you to say." He wipes a tear from his eye as Harry sits and watches him, his own smile unable to be suppressed. 

"I'm full of surprises." He adds quietly as Louis' laughter dies down.

"I bet you are." Louis says locking eyes with Harry before sending him a wink.

They head out of the hotel and take a walk over the bridge to stroll along the water's edge. Boats paddle by and there are people everywhere. Summer in Venice is busy, even at night. Harry definitely wants to come back for a proper visit one day. Maybe next summer.

Suddenly Louis is grabbing Harry's hand. "Come on." He says and Harry's being pulled towards a platform under a bridge. It takes him a second to realise there's a gondola docked in the shadows and an old man sitting on a fold out chair, reading a magazine with a little lantern.

Harry watches Louis walk ahead, hearing him speak in rapid Italian to the man. The man's face lights up with a pleased expression, and he gestures towards the boat. Louis immediately pulls Harry along, his touch firm. He clambers into the boat first, then reaches back for Harry, helping him step in. Harry's legs tremble, but Louis is right there, supporting him as they get settled.

"Such a gentleman.” Harry murmurs, his voice laced with affection. Louis beams, a pleased little smile playing on his lips. The old man then climbs into the boat, unties a rope, and settles himself at the back, ready with his paddle.

They sit back and watch the twinkling lights across the cityscape as they move slowly through the water. A chill runs down Harry's spine causing him to shiver, and Louis is quick to reach down and pull a blanket over their legs. "Thanks." Harry mutters quietly.

They descend into a comfortable silence, happy to just sit and watch the world go by. There’s people milling about along the streets, some wave at them and blow kisses which they both return. 

"I didn't know you could speak Italian." Harry asks, turning his head to face Louis. And Louis lays back into Harry's side getting more comfortable, his head tilting slightly to look at him too. 

"I can actually speak six languages." He replies and Harry's eyes widen.

“Christ, I can barely manage English." Harry jokes, making Louis laugh. "What others do you know?"

"Well, I can speak French and Italian quite fluently. I know quite a bit of German. And not a lot, but I can speak some basic sentences in Spanish as well as Mandarin. And English of course." Louis lists off as if it's no big thing.

"How did you learn all of that? I could barely pick up French in high school, that was confusing enough. I can't imagine trying to store five extra languages in my brain." He jokes.

Louis chuckles, his attention drifting as he absently plays with the tips of Harry's fingers, hidden under the blanket's warmth. The light touch sends a surge of nervous excitement through Harry, making him wish he could still the butterflies taking flight in his stomach.

"I took both French and Italian through high school, my parents hired me a tutor for each and I worked really hard at it with plans to travel Europe at some point in my life. The others I studied in my own time when I was off from school or had no homework. More of a hobby, I suppose.” 

Harry is impressed. He had no idea Louis was so focused and driven. He's a little jealous if he's honest. It would definitely be a handy skill to have, especially if he plans to do more travelling some day.

"Maybe you can teach me some?" Harry asks, hopeful. Louis smiles at him and nods his head. "Sure. Let's see.." He’s deep in thought for a moment before he continues. "Oh! Say this— Ciao mi chiamo Harry ."

Harry repeats a little clumsily, but does well for his first try. Louis tells him it simply means hello my name is Harry.

"Very good!” He praises. “Okay. Now try this— Louis è la persona più meravigliosa che abbia mai incontrato."

"I'm not saying that.” Harry snorts an unattractive laugh. “It has your name in it. I feel like you're tricking me into saying something I shouldn't.” He eyes Louis suspiciously. Louis just bellows a laugh and the sound warms Harry’s chest, despite the cool night air. 

Louis turns and moves a little closer to Harry, his gaze flicking briefly to Harry's lips and back to his eyes. His hand is still holding Harry’s under the blanket, and Harry feels the breath leave his lungs at the closeness of it all. "Okay, then. Say this—" He starts, a little breathlessly. " Voglio che tu mi baci.. "

Harry swallows thickly. Their faces are so close he can feel Louis' breath on his cheek and his skin prickles at the feeling, his body erupting in goosebumps.

" Voglio... che tu mi baci .” Harry breathes, the words almost lost in the air. He doesn’t have time to question their meaning, because in the next instant Louis is kissing him. It’s a gentle brush of lips, sweet with the remnants of red wine and chocolate, and Harry's head swims with the overwhelming rush of sensations.

Louis pulls back quickly, a nervous tremor in his eyes as he meets Harry's gaze. "Was that okay?" He murmurs, the question hanging in the fragile space between them. Harry's nod is instant, almost too eager, and Louis exhales a soft, relieved chuckle.

Returning his gaze to the front of the boat, Louis finds a comfortable spot with his head on Harry's shoulder. Their hands find each other again, fingers lacing together beneath the blanket as they rest in the peaceful quiet.

"What's your favourite colour?" Harry asks after a few minutes, breaking the silence.

Louis huffs a laugh. "Green." He answers. "Yours?"

"Blue."

Chapter Text

Louis' voice, raspy with sleep, pierces the morning air. "Morning, sunshine!" From beneath the covers, Harry responds with an exaggerated yawn, limbs splaying out like a starfish. His heavy eyelids blink open, but the bright sunlight makes him wince, and he quickly rolls onto his stomach, burying his face back into the pillow with a tired groan.

"Come on, sleepy head. I've ordered breakfast. It should be here any minute." Louis says, much closer than he was before. Harry's ears perk up at the mention of food, and with an exaggeration groan, he heaves himself up to sit.

Harry’s hair, a jumble of curls, is matted at the back from sleep, and plastered to his face and neck with a film of sweat. The relief is immediate when Louis slides open the balcony door, the morning breeze washing over them, instantly cooling Harry's tacky skin.

"Might go have a cold shower to wake me up." Harry mumbles, still yawning. He ambles out of bed and towards the bathroom, a soft smile playing on his lips as he passes Louis, who leans against the doorframe with a cigarette. The bathroom mirror reveals just how dishevelled he looks. A sudden wave of self-consciousness washes over him that he hasn’t felt throughout the trip. Something had definitely switched between him and Louis last night, leaving him hyper aware of his appearance. He decides to take extra care in the shower, meticulously washing and styling his hair, shaving his face, and slathering his skin with moisturiser.

When he emerges from the bathroom, it’s clear his efforts aren’t for nothing. He sees Louis— mid-bite of toast, frozen in place, with his eyes fixed on him where he’s sitting at the little table having breakfast— toast, tea, and a tall stack of pancakes. Pleased with the attention, Harry adds a little sway to his hips as he moves to join him. He helps himself to pancakes and a bowl of diced fruit from the breakfast trolley, settling in opposite Louis whos now looking down at his plate.

They haven't discussed their kiss, yet. Both seemingly turning into nervous teenagers at the mere thought of it. They spent the walk back to the hotel after their boat ride mostly in silence, just a few lighthearted questions shared between them.

Harry had noticed, though, Louis' persistent attempts to touch him afterwards. Whether it was a guiding hand on his lower back, a gentle sweep of hair from his face, or the subtle brush of their fingers as they walked side-by-side, Louis seemed to find any excuse for physical contact. 

Just the thought of Louis' soft lips pressed against his brings a tingle to Harry's skin, a feeling that had monopolised his thoughts all night. They had been too tired upon their return from dinner to do anything but collapse into their beds and fall asleep, leaving the moment unspoken.

Harry can't bring himself to think about what it means. He knows they only have days left together before Louis leaves, and there’s a very real possibility that he may never see him again.

He likes Louis a lot, is the thing. They get along really well, and he thinks that maybe if they had met under different circumstances, this could have become the start of something really great. He guesses he'll never find out, so he pushes his feelings down and tells himself to just enjoy the time they do have together. 

"Alright, what's the plan for today?" Louis breaks him from his thoughts, his mouth full of half chewed pancakes.

"Well.." Harry starts as he swallows his own mouthful. "It's only a couple of hours drive to Florence, so we don't need to leave right away. I wanted to see a few of the old buildings if you’re up for it? Then I need to find a magnet for mum."

"Sounds good to me. You’ll fit right in with the other tourists." Louis jokes, gesturing to Harry’s brightly printed shirt. Harry smiles as his cheeks heat and goes back to his breakfast.

Once Louis has showered, they pack up and check out of the room. They leave the car at the front of the hotel, deciding they'll get the most out of being tourists if they go on foot. It's hot, and Harry can already feel his skin burning through his near sheer shirt.

They wander the city's back streets for the rest of the morning, eventually making their way to the main tourist attractions. Harry pauses to photograph buildings he declares as architecturally magnificent. Louis, despite rolling his eyes at Harry's enthusiasm, can’t quite seem to suppress his fond smile.

"They're just old buildings, Haz. And they honestly all look the same to me." He says on their walk, earning him a glare from Harry.

They make their way back to the hotel just after lunchtime, ready to hit the road when Harry stops suddenly in his tracks.

"Uh— what's wrong?” Louis asks, eyeing Harry from beside him.

"Where's the car?" Harry asks slowly, panic lacing his voice. Louis’ head snaps suddenly towards where they had left it hours ago. "Where's the fucking car, Lou?" Harry turns sharply to face Louis, eyes wide and desperate.

They hurry towards the empty parking space where the car had been, their eyes scanning for any clue about what had happened to it.

"Look." Louis says, pointing up to a sign neither had noticed before.

"I can't read Italian, Louis! I have absolutely no idea what that says!" Harry exclaims, burying his face in his hands and beginning to pace back and forth on the sidewalk.

"Okay, try not to panic.” He starts, voice cautious. "It says no parking between 9am and 3pm. Vehicles will be towed .” 

Harry's head shoots up, eyes wide and lip trembling. "Fuck!" He shouts. " Fuck , I'm screwed. Niall's gonna kill me." He tugs at his hair in sheer distress as he continues his pacing. "All our stuff is in there, Louis! Our passports, our clothes.."

Louis is in front of Harry in an instant, reaching up to untangle his hand from his hair. "Don't, love. You’re gonna hurt yourself." He tells in a calm voice. "Hey, look at me." He says gently, grasping Harry's chin and forcing his eyes to meet his.

"Take a breath, babe. You're going to get yourself all wound up. We'll figure this out, yeah?" Louis' calming effect on Harry shouldn't still surprise him. He finds his voice deeply soothing, capable of reaching right down to his bones like no other has before. He could happily listen to him talk all day.

"Look on the bright side." Louis adds with a smirk as he gently runs his fingers through Harry's hair to detangle the knots that had formed. "At least it hasn't been stolen." He shrugs, looking up into Harry's eyes. Harry actually cracks a smile at that, melting into Louis' touch and letting himself be soothed.

~

"How much!?" Louis' voice booms, the table trembling under the force of his palm as he slaps his hand down in frustration. The burly Italian man immediately shoots to his feet, an intimidating figure that looms over both of them, his glare a promise of violence. Harry hears when Louis swallows hard, his defiance quickly melting away as he sinks back into his chair beside Harry. 

Following Harry's brief outburst, which may or may not have involved kicking the signpost and potentially breaking his toe, Louis wisely checked the back of the sign for information about the car's whereabouts.

A brief phone call for information and a bus ride across the city had led them to a dingy holding yard that instantly set Harry’s nerves on edge. He spent the whole journey there hidden behind Louis, who had promised to protect him from the mafia men, as Harry had so innocently put it.

"We can't pay that much.” Louis sighs, his voice now softer, tinged with resignation. He looks up, his eyes wide and pleading. "Please.” He adds. "We're just trying to get to Naples for my friend's father's funeral. He was everything to him, and we've traveled so far to pay our respects."

Harry’s head snaps to the side, his brows raised questioningly which earns a sharp elbow to the ribs from Louis.

Harry manages a choked " Yes ." The word escaping him with a stifled groan of pain. "We're exhausted, we've been driving for days.” He explains, his voice laced with weariness. "We overslept and didn't move the car in time, but we are truly sorry. We need to get going, please, is there any way you can make an exception? This won't happen again, I promise." His chin trembles in a display of feigned sorrow, and a quick glance back at Louis reveals an impressed expression.

A heavy sigh escapes the man, and for a fleeting moment, Harry feels a flicker of hope that they'd gotten through to him. But then, the man abruptly rises, his chair crashing to the ground as he erupts into a torrent of Italian, his hands flying through the air as he points accusingly at Harry. Louis' eyes grow wide, and Harry's confusion is evident as he struggles to understand the sudden, impassioned outburst.

"Okay, okay!" Louis says, hands raised in a gesture of terrified surrender. He subtly shifts in front of Harry, drawing the attention away from Harry and onto himself. "Just give me a second." He stammers. “And I'll sort it out." Harry notices Louis' hands trembling as he fumbles for his phone. He sends a silent look asking Harry if he’s okay, and with a reassuring nod, Louis waits until the Italian has settled back down before he exits the small office, leaving Harry alone with the other man.

Harry shrinks into his chair and tries not to think about the fact that he’s alone in a room with a man who looks like he could snap him in half with his bare hands. He avoids the man’s intimidating gaze and instead glances around the room, briefly wondering if Louis had actually decided to just up and run, leaving Harry to fend for himself.

A strained silence hangs in the air for what feels like an eternity before Louis returns, his stride firm and purposeful as he presents the man with a cheque. The man's gaze is tight and scrutinising, drilling into Louis for several nerve-wracking seconds. Then, abruptly, his features relax into a smile and he slaps his meaty hand down onto Louis’ shoulder and takes the paper. The sudden shift in his mood leaves Harry unsure if he should be glad or deeply unnerved.

After a brief exchange in Italian between Louis and the man, the keys land in Harry's palm. They are then shown to the yard where the car awaits them.

Only once they’re a safe distance down the street does Harry finally pull over, his breath bursting from his lungs. "Did we almost just get killed?" He asks, a tremor in his voice. Louis, pointedly, doesn’t meet his eyes.

"It's probably best if you don't know the answer to that, Harry." Louis huffs out a nervous laugh. "Let's just say we insulted him by lying to him and he didn't take it too well.”

Harry sighs, relieved at their narrow escape, but confused about how they managed to avoid being turned into mince meat.

"Where did you get the money? He wanted close to a thousand euros, Louis."

"I did what I had to do, okay?" Louis answers, a hint of anger in his voice that sets Harry’s already frayed emotions alight. 

"Right." Harry scoffs, his voice strained. "Must be nice having money to fall back on when you need bailing out." It comes out as a snap, a reaction he doesn’t mean, fueled by the panic that has been building since he discovered the car was gone. The second the words leave his mouth, he immediately regrets them. Not only is that not how he feels, it’s completely untrue and Louis had trusted Harry enough to open up to him about how untrue they in fact are. 

Louis' voice drops to a near whisper. "I called my sister. She said she'd help, but this transfer's going to flag her account. My parents will see, and she'll be in serious trouble for this. I feel awful for dragging her into it." He shakes his head, and Harry feels a pang of sickness at his outburst.

He exhales deeply, head falling back onto the head rest as he squeezes his eyes shut. “Shit, Lou. I'm so sorry." He whispers. "I didn't mean any of that. I— I know you're not..." He stutters out, not able to look at Louis. “I’m sorry.” 

Harry feels a hand settle on his thigh, and he risks a glance at Louis. Louis meets his gaze with a sad smile. "You're right." Louis admits, his voice heavy. "I'm a complete fuck up. I hadn't even made it a full day before I was calling my sister for help, and here I am, doing it again. And then there's the fact that I'm following you across the continent like a lost puppy. I honestly don't know how I ever thought I could manage on my own."

Harry hasn’t seen Louis look so defeated since the day they first met. That low-hanging sadness on his face is unbearable, and Harry refuses to be the cause of it. He can’t stand the thought of being responsible for making Louis feel that way about himself.

He quickly takes off his seat belt and turns to Louis, grabbing the hand that still rests on his thigh.
"Lou.." He says gently. "Lou, please look at me."

As Louis' eyes connect with Harry's, he's met with the sight of tears brimming in his eyes. His heart aches, seeing those usually bright blue eyes now rimmed with red and clouded with sorrow.

“I'm sorry." Harry says, his gaze fixed on Louis, desperately trying to convey his sincerity. "I shouldn't have said that. You're not a fuck up, Louis. Actually, you're incredibly brave for going out on your own. That's not easy." He feels a reassuring squeeze of his hand from Louis, which quickly leads to them tangling their fingers together.

Louis gives him a small smile and Harry breathes a sigh of relief. Hoping that his words are sinking in. 

"And I don't want you to think you're following me around. I want you here. I honestly don't know how I would have made it this far without you. I definitely would have been killed by the mafia boss at the car yard. Actually, I’d probably still be sitting at the roundabout in Paris, too afraid to drive through."

Louis' soft chuckle breaks loose as his free hand lifts to cup Harry's face, his thumb tracing a delicate line along his cheekbone. "I want to be here too." He says, his voice laced with a subtle vulnerability, smiling hesitantly. "And... I really, really want to kiss you again." The admission is just a quiet exhale, yet it sends a fluttering sensation through Harry's heart and stomach.

"Yeah. You should.” Harry whispers, the simple affirmation all it takes. Louis surges forward, bridging the space between them, and their lips meet in a hungry, immediate kiss.

Closing his eyes, Harry sees stars, the world fading as Louis' mouth claims his, and he’s instantly enveloped in heat. The awkward angle frustrated him, prompting him to scramble onto his knees and clumsily shift until he’s straddling Louis' waist. His knees protest against the hard door and the seat belt buckle, but he ignores it, too lost in the overwhelming sensation of Louis' lips on his.

Harry lifts a hand, resting his palm to the curve of Louis' throat, while the other nestles against his firm chest, his thumb tracing the line of his collarbone.

This kiss is a wildfire compared to the gentle touch of lips they'd shared by the canal last night. Louis' hands, now urgent and demanding, slide beneath Harry's shirt, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of his hips. A soft whine escapes Harry's lips, swallowed down by the heat of Louis' mouth.

Their kiss deepens, tongues weaving together in a passionate exploration. Louis' teeth graze Harry's lower lip, a playful nip that sends a shiver through him. Harry yields to the touch, allowing Louis to take the lead. A wave of arousal washes over Harry, ignited by the thrill of Louis' dominance.

Harry sinks his hips against Louis', a reflexive motion that ignites a spark in his belly. He feels Louis' cock straining against the fabric of his shorts, a confirmation that sends a thrill through him, and he can’t help but seek that friction again. Louis gasps a hitched breath and draws back slightly, his eyes searching Harry's face, likely flushed with heat.

"Fuck, Harry.” Louis’ words come out on a panting breath. “You’re so beautiful." He whispers into the barely there space between their lips. Harry's heart beats so hard he can hear it in his ears and is sure Louis must be able to feel it when he runs his hand over his chest.

He's drawn back into a deep, passionate kiss, his hands moving over Louis with an almost frantic urgency. Louis' own hands follow, tracing a path down Harry's torso, unfastening the buttons of his shirt and venturing lower.

Just as Louis' fingers close around the buttons of Harry's jeans, a harsh, rattling buzz erupts from the cup holder. Harry's phone vibrates aggressively, the noise echoing through the confined space of the car and causing both to flinch. The ringing ceases, leaving an unnerving silence that hangs heavy in the air. Harry is on the verge of recapturing the moment, leaning back towards Louis' lips, when the intrusive sound restarts. He groans, reaching for the phone, shooting Louis a look of apology.

He catches a glimpse of Niall's name before the call abruptly ends again, a text message popping up right away.

Care to explain why I just got a message saying my car had been impounded in some Italian car jail? 

Harry exhales, typing out a quick message of reply assuring Niall it's all fine now, and that the car is safe. Before locking his phone he sees that it's nearly four in the afternoon, and they really need to make a move if they want to get to Florence before dark.

He pulls back from Louis with a sigh of reluctance, settling back into his seat. He watches as Louis rubs at the heat in his face, then makes a small, restless adjustment in his shorts. Harry bites his lip. He'd clearly left Louis flustered, and though he feels the pull of frustration himself, a small, undeniably ego-boosting thrill shoots through him at having that kind of effect.

"We’d better get going." He says, a little breathier than he expected. Louis nods in agreement and gives Harry a smile. 

“Doesn't look like the safest street to be sitting in anyway." Louis jokes and Harry is only now noticing the dingy laneway he’d pulled them over in. Graffiti decorates the worn down walls at the back of the buildings, and there is a stain that looks suspiciously like blood on the concrete just ahead of them.

Harry starts the car and quickly pulls back onto the road, heading in the direction of the Liberty Bridge to get back onto the mainland.

~

They reach Florence around seven in the evening and make their way straight to their hotel. The sun is setting as Harry walks onto the balcony, gazing out over the hotel grounds. There's a beautiful garden that's so green it makes Harry feel like he's back at home, sitting in his mum's garden under his favourite tree reading his favourite book.

He can see the rest of the city along the horizon and oh— "Hey, there's a swimming pool!" He calls through the terrace door to Louis who looks equally as excited.

They change and head downstairs to the hotel restaurant for dinner, choosing a table on the garden deck outside in the night air. They relax with wine and several dishes that they share between them, neither able to decide what they wanted from the menu.

"I think I need to walk off all that food." Harry says, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied exhale. His cheeks are warm from the wine and he has a happy, relaxed buzz trickling through his body.

"I've got a better idea." Louis declares, a cheeky grin spreading across his face. Harry, though his eyes narrow with suspicion, accepts Louis' outstretched hand without hesitation, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet.

They walk through the gardens, Harry's eyes drawn to the red roses bordering the curving stone path. Louis, noticing Harry's fascination, discreetly plucks a bloom and tucks it behind Harry’s ear without a word. Harry’s insides turn to mush, beaming fondly at Louis as they come to a stop in front of a gate. The pool gate. "It's closed." Harry says pointedly when he realises what Louis had planned for them. 

"There's nobody around." Louis shrugs, eyeing the lock on the gate latch and stepping back to size up the top of the fence. "Give me a boost." He says casually and lifts one foot up.

Harry just looks at him dumbly. He's not usually one for breaking rules. And it’s  late, if they get kicked out of the hotel, they'll be sleeping in the car until morning.

One glance into Louis' bright blue eyes and at his mischievous smile, and Harry's resolve completely crumbles. He’s certain that Louis could ask him for absolutely anything, and he'd obey instantly, without a second thought.

Harry’s eyes dart around, ensuring that they’re the only ones outside, then he hesitantly lowers his clasped hands down to create a step for Louis to boost himself up. Louis flings his leg over the high fence and with a grunt, he drops down quite ungracefully onto the concrete of the enclosed space.

A second later, the lock clicks and the gate bursts open, revealing a beaming Louis. After securing the gate, Harry barely has time to register his surroundings before Louis is rapidly stripping down to his boxers beside a deck chair, discarding his clothes on the ground, and grabbing a towel from a shelf nearby.

Harry's fingers work slowly at his shirt buttons, then with a deliberate slide, he shrugs it off, letting it pool at his feet. He feels his throat go dry as Louis' gaze tracks every movement, Louis' breathing deepening in sync with each item of clothing that falls away.

They stare at each other across the pool deck for a moment before Louis clears his throat, his voice slightly deeper than the teasing tone it had held before. "Don't want to get your boxers wet.” His eyes fall to Harry’s underwear. “Might as well take them off, too."

Harry smirks, heat swimming in his belly from the wine and Louis’ unwavering stare. Unable to resist the chance to strip down, he pulls them off quickly, throwing them towards the deck chair before he  launches himself off the side of the pool and  into the glistening water.

Harry resurfaces wide eyed, and flicks his long hair off his face. "Jesus, fuck !" He gasps, teeth chattering. "It's fucking freezing."

"Well, I might just stay right here then." Louis laughs, taking a seat on the edge of the pool. He cautiously toes the water, before shrieking loudly and pulling his legs immediately back up to his chest. “Yep. Definitely staying right here.”

"It's not so bad once you're in." Harry says breathlessly.

"Your chattering teeth say otherwise." Louis laughs, before receiving a face full of water for his troubles. "You little shit!" He shrieks, looking at Harry like he can’t believe he would do that.

"What are you gonna do about it?" Harry sing-songs. "You're all the way over—" He’s instantly cut off by Louis cannonballing into the water beside him, a rush of pool water sloshing all over Harry’s face and soaking his hair again.

"Sh—shit!" Louis stutters when his head breaks through the surface. He rushes towards the edge and makes a move to climb the steps, but Harry is too quick, grabbing his waist before he can haul himself out and pulling him back into the freezing water. Louis’ arms and legs flail about, but Harry holds onto him tightly until he stops putting up a fight.

Louis stills, leaning back against Harry’s body. Harry suddenly becomes aware of his nakedness, and when Louis turns in his arms to face him, he swallows deeply, breath hitching in his chest. Louis' hands trace a slow path over Harry’s shoulders and down his arms before linking their fingers together, his face a potent mix of adoration and arousal and Harry knows his own will be much the same. 

"Your teeth stopped chattering." Louis breathes out quietly into the cool air between them.

"Suddenly I'm not so cold." Harry murmurs, and Louis huffs a laugh, a soft sound in the stillness. Harry's gaze is fixed on Louis, watching the subtle movement of his throat as he swallows. A quick flick of his tongue then traces his lower lip. The gentle sway of the water draws them closer, their bodies almost touching, until their foreheads meet and only a breath separates their mouths.

"Can I kiss you?" Louis whispers and Harry grins. 

“You don't have to ask." He replies, causing Louis to roll his eyes and lean back to look at him. 

“Excuse me for trying to respect your bound—" Louis’ sentence is cut off when Harry grasps his jaw and pulls him in to kiss him firmly, his lips still parted mid-word.

Instantly, they melt into each other's arms. Louis' fingers thread into Harry's hair, drawing him in with a possessive tug. A soft sound escapes Harry's lips as Louis’  tongue traces the outline of his, then slips inside for a slow, deliberate kiss.

In a swift, unexpected move, Louis spins them around, and Harry finds himself slammed against the pool's cold, tiled wall. His surprised shriek is silenced as Louis slams their lips together again, then grasps Harry’s thighs, lifting his legs and urging them around his waist. Harry instinctively tightens his grip, pulling Louis closer.

They break apart to catch their breaths, and Louis moves to kiss along Harry's jawline, leaving a trail of hot, open mouth kisses down the damp skin of his neck. Harry is already a mess, panting and desperate for more. Louis grasps the flesh of his arse and pulls him in closer, lining up their hips. Harry moans out at the feeling of their hard cocks sliding against each other through Louis' boxers.

"Please, Lou— Fuck ." Harry groans and Louis connects their mouths once more, biting and sucking at Harry's lower lip.

"Please what, baby?" Louis murmurs, his voice laced with the same desperation as Harry's. "Tell me what you need."

The pet name makes Harry whimper, and the low, authoritative sound of Louis' voice sends a shiver down his spine. He feels a hot, dizzying rush as his body responds, blood pooling low, and his thoughts scrambling.

"Please— please touch me." Harry's head falls back, his eyes squeezing shut as he fights to steady his breath. The mere idea of Louis' hands finally on him sends a jolt through him, almost too much to bear. Without hesitation, Louis' hand begins a slow descent down Harry's torso, his lips following a parallel path along his throat. A wave of anticipation washes over Harry, each touch pushing him closer to the edge.

Finally, Louis' fingers wrap around his cock, holding him firmly in his grasp as he begins to slowly stroke up and down. Their lips join again and Harry can barely keep up with the rhythm of the kiss, but Louis isn’t deterred, he just lavishes Harry’s lips in pecks and gentle licks as his hand works. 

"Fuck, Lou." Harry whines, completely and utterly lost in the feeling of Louis touching him. He's getting close already, can feel his stomach muscles clenching and his legs shaking around Louis’ waist. He reaches up to tangle his fingers in Louis' hair to help keep him steady, when there's a sudden shout.

"Ehi! Non puoi stare lì la piscina è chiusa!" A bellowing voice calls out from the gate, shattering the moment and causing Louis' hand to fall from Harry's cock and Harry's shaky legs drop down to the pool floor.

"Ehm, scusa. Bene ora vattene. Un momento?” Louis shouts across the pool and Harry tries his best not to swoon at how hot he sounds when he speaks Italian. Not the time, Harry. 

The man walks away, so they quickly scamper out of the water. Louis holds a towel out for Harry to cover himself, then they grab their clothes and rush back to the room, leaving a trail of water behind them.

The second they cross the threshold and the door closes behind them, Louis is pinning Harry against it, their mouths crashing together in a kiss charged with need.  Harry’s cock had flagged with the interruption, but immediately perks back up at the feeling of Louis' slick, wet body pressing against him.

Despite the heat between them, Harry’s chilled, wet skin causes him to shiver beneath Louis’ hands. "Shower?" Louis asks against his lips before attaching them again. Harry agrees with a mindless hum and they clumsily walk backwards towards the bathroom without breaking the kiss. 

Once inside, Louis reaches in and turns on the shower. Steam immediately billows out, humid air quickly building around them in the small room. He quickly shucks off his boxers, then gently unhooks Harry's towel, letting it fall to the floor around their feet.

They step in, and Harry's back hits the stream first. "Fuck!" He shouts, jumping back as hot water scolds his bare skin.

"Shit! Sorry, love. Let me— hold on, I'll just.." He fiddles with the taps behind Harry’s back until the water temperature settles to something a little more bearable.

"That better, baby?" He inquires softly, leaning in to kiss Harry. It’s much softer than before, like he’s trying to soothe him, and Harry nods his head, melting into Louis' embrace.

They spend a few minutes kissing and just softly exploring the contours of each other's skin. Harry basks in the feeling of Louis' firm hands pressed against his body, and when Louis pulls him in closer they both gasp out in unison at the feeling of their hips grinding together.

Harry watches just as Louis reaches down, his hand closing around both their erections. With a slow, deliberate motion, he begins to pull them apart. The water running between them makes their skin slick, and Harry feels a rush of pure pleasure that threatens to buckle his knees.

"Lou—." Harry breathes out, the thick air around them almost choking him. "Feels so good."

Louis hums in agreement, his pace quickening just slightly as he adds a flick to his wrist that has Harry threatening to unravel. “God, Harry. You’re so fucking hot." Louis drawls, voice much lower than usual, a look of concentration on his face as he watches his own hand move over the two of them. “You don't know how many times I've thought about this. About you ." 

The possibility that Louis has been thinking about him in the same way he’s been thinking about Louis, is enough to send Harry into a spiral of nervous butterflies, his heart feeling like it might launch itself into his throat.

Louis’ grip tightens as he gains speed once more and Harry has to lean his head forward and bite down on Louis' shoulder, trying desperately to hold himself back. "I'm close, Lou— fucking hell. "

"Me too." Louis breathes, his voice thick with desire. "Let go, yeah? I want you to come on me." Harry moans at the raw need in Louis’ words, sending a thrill through his body. With a jolt, hot waves pulse through him and he comes hard against Louis’ stomach, their hands, and over both of their cocks. Louis’ own climax follows immediately, his release joining Harry’s.

Leaning heavily against the tiled wall, Harry tries to brace himself, his legs trembling precariously as they both struggle to regain their breath.

When Louis finally looks up at Harry and their eyes meet, Harry has to grab onto the shower railing to avoid collapsing entirely, his shakey legs going weaker at the sight before him. Louis' eyes are bright, feverish almost, his face flushed with a peaceful calm. His wet hair has been pushed back, but a few dark pieces stubbornly fall across his brow.

He is so incredibly gorgeous. Harry already knew it, but seeing him now, like this, his beauty is so intense it’s almost unbearable.

They stay like that, just looking at each other with soft, almost shy smiles until the water starts to get cold. They wash up quickly, their movements a bit weary now as they make their way back to the bedroom. They each pull on a clean pair of boxers and then settle into bed. Harry hadn't thought to call ahead and arrange a double room, trusting that Louis would be okay with sharing. 

Beneath the covers, Louis shifts, his arm finding Harry's waist and drawing him near. He presses soft kisses to Harry's neck, each one a gentle spark against his skin.

Harry focuses on how it feels to have Louis pressed so close. He concentrates on the soft kisses on his shoulders and the gentle warmth of Louis' breath on his neck as they fall asleep. Despite the peace, a persistent dread gnaws at him, and he desperately tries to ignore the knowledge that this will all be over soon. 

Chapter Text

After spending the night wrestling with the persistent realisation that his time with Louis is limited, Harry vows not to let a single second go to waste. This started the moment they opened their eyes the following morning.

Unable to drag his eyes away, Harry is captivated by Louis who is propped against the headboard. His hair tumbles over his eyes, lips parted and his chin resting on his chest as he breathes heavily. Louis' gaze is intense, locking with Harry's as Harry slowly and reverently kisses his way down his body.

Harry's tongue traces a path down Louis' belly, feeling the subtle tremor in his muscles beneath the smooth skin. He follows the soft line of hair below his navel, dipping lower until his mouth reaches the waistband of Louis' underwear. With a gentle tug with his teeth, he lowers the fabric slightly, and then his lips find a spot just below the hip bone, sucking softly at the smooth flesh until it’s purple and bruised.

"Harry. Please ." Louis hisses out, arching into Harry’s touch, a hand flying down to tangle in Harry's hair while the other reaches up and clutches tightly to the headboard.

Harry wastes no time, sitting up and yanking down Louis' boxers. His gaze fixed on Louis, naked and exposed before him, a hungry look in his eye.

"God, stop staring and just... please.” Louis gasps, his voice ragged. He throws his head back, squeezing his eyes shut in frustration. Harry’s laughter is a soft rumble, a smile playing on his lips as he looks down at Louis writhing beneath him.

He decides to relent and leans back down between Louis' parted thighs, licking a slow strip from the base of his cock all the way up to his leaking tip. Louis moans loudly, muttering a barely audible fucking finally, before sighing in relief. 

Harry's mouth closes around Louis, his tongue tracing slow, deliberate circles around the tip, savoring the salty flavour. He slides his lips lower, attempting to take Louis' full length, careful to avoid gagging. The sensation of Harry's sucking pressure causes Louis to arch his hips up, and he uncontrollably thrusts forward, hitting the back of Harry's throat and making him choke and sputter.

"Oh, god! I'm so sorry." Louis blurts, scrambling to reach down and wipe Harry's chin. Harry pulls back in surprise. "That was completely involuntary, I swear.” Louis insists. Harry gives him a mock glare, but it quickly softens when he sees the stricken look on Louis' face.

The soft morning light makes his chest gleam, the skin rising and falling with each concerned breath as he gazes down at Harry. A blush, starting low on his chest, spreads upwards, coloring his cheeks with a rosy pink.

Harry clears his throat and gives Louis a reassuring smile, blinking up at him as he leans into Louis’ touch against his cheek. 

Once Louis' panic eases and he sees Harry is alright, Harry returns to his task, head bowed as he takes Louis down again. He focuses on the tip, his lips and tongue working together while his hand finds the base. A new wave of need washes over him, and his free hand slips beneath his own waistband, seeking relief from the intensity of his arousal.

"Oh, fuck." Louis groans, his voice thick with desire as he watches Harry's hand move. "Does that feel good, baby?" He murmurs, his voice laced with a mix of arousal and amusement. He continues, a hint of challenge in his tone. "Does sucking my cock get you so worked up you can't keep your hands off yourself?”

Harry hums around Louis cock in response, eyes rolling back as he sucks him faster while speeding up the hand on himself, Louis watching him getting Harry even more desperate for release. 

"I'm— I'm gonna.. Fuck, Harry. I'm gonna come." Louis lets out an obscene moan as he suddenly comes into Harry's mouth.

Harry's grip tightens, and with a final, forceful tug, his orgasm overcomes him. He eagerly takes everything Louis offers, mind going hazy as he swallows him down. When he’s finally finished coming, Harry glances up to find Louis, eyes squeezed shut, lying back against the pillow, struggling to catch his breath. Harry shifts, hovering above him, and leaves soft kisses along his jaw, cheeks, nose, and forehead. Then, Louis pulls him down, their lips colliding in a passionate kiss.

Their kisses are slow and drawn out, blurring the sensation of their lips until they're numb. Harry finally falls back onto the bed, landing heavily beside Louis. He closes his eyes, tempted by the pull of sleep, but the quiet of their room is broken by the rumble of his stomach.

"They have a breakfast buffet downstairs." Louis rasps, keeping his eyes shut. "Saw the sign when we came in last night." The promise of food is enough to set his stomach off in another comical growl that has them both chuckling.

With their legs still a little weak from their shared climax, they take a brief shower and pack their bags. They load the car, then claim a table on the outdoor terrace again. They pile food onto their plates from the buffet before sitting down to take in the same view from last night, but this time illuminated by the fresh light of day, offering an entirely different experience.

Harry's breakfast consists of a piece of toast with jam, some berries, and a banana. In contrast, Louis' plate overflows with eggs, bacon, sausage, hash browns, and a bagel. They both order a tea and a juice, then settle back, basking in the warm sun, to enjoy their food at a leisurely pace.

"So, what's the plan for today? Rome, right?" Louis asks with his mouth full.

“Yep, last stop before Naples. I’d booked two nights there so I could do some sightseeing, so we don’t need to rush." Harry says and pops a blueberry into his mouth, sucking the sweet juice from his thumb. Louis nods in response, eyes tracking the motion as his lips pop off the digit. 

Harry smirks when Louis locks eyes with him, a slight blush creeping over his cheeks when he sees Harry watching him. 

"That sounds good." Louis says, his voice a little rough as he clears his throat. He then quickly shovels a forkful of eggs into his mouth, earning a huff of laughter from Harry.

"It's actually only a three hour drive.” Harry adds. “So I’d planned on going to the Accademia Gallery today here in Florence and having a perve at Michelangelo's David." A grin spreads across Harry's face, and Louis laughs, a piece of bagel escaping his mouth and sailing over the edge of the terrace.

Louis lets out a cackle, the sound still bubbling on his lips as he leans back, a sheepish look on his face while he peeks over the railing. "Hope no one was standing down there." He jokes, making Harry let out a snort. 

Once they calm down, Louis claps his hands together with a grin and says "Alright. Giant naked man statue it is, then!" And Harry giggles as he sips down the last of his juice, moving to stand up.

~

Harry's head tilts back, his eyes wide, as a soft "wow" slips from his mouth, lost in the enormity of the statue.

Louis, standing close beside him, follows Harry's gaze and offers a soft "I know." He then lowers his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “You'd think he would have made the guy a bit more... well endowed ." Harry can’t suppress the sudden cackle that bursts from his chest. He claps a hand over his mouth, glancing quickly around the otherwise hushed room, his cheeks flushing a bright pink as he meets several disapproving glares from the other museum visitors.

He playfully shoves Louis' shoulder as he tries to calm himself, Louis looking quite smug that he managed to get such a reaction.

"Maybe he ran out of marble?" Harry shrugs, pressing his hands to his cheeks to tamper down his grin as they make their way around to the back of the display. 

They both pause in their tracks when they see it from behind. “Wow!" Louis says a little too loudly, and Harry can no longer contain himself, doubling over with his hands over his mouth as he desperately tries to stifle his laughter.

"You're going to get us kicked out, Harry. Control yourself, love." Louis says with feigned seriousness as if it's not completely his fault. His bitten back smirks betrays him though. 

Harry wipes away a single tear, finally catching the breath that had been stolen from him, only to have it snatched away once more. Louis' fingers close around his, linking their hands together and pulling him through the room with an ease that feels entirely too natural. The murmur of a tour guide speaking Italian fades into the background as they get lost in their own little world. 

"I think he spent all his time carving that bum that he didn't have any time left to work on his cock." Louis whispers in a very serious voice. Harry struggles to hold back another laughing fit. "It's fucking perfect." Louis adds as he admires it with wide eyes. 

"It's nothing compared to yours," Harry murmurs, his voice a low thrum against Louis' ear. He leans closer, a small, satisfied smile playing on his lips when he notices the goosebumps rise along Louis' neck where his breath had grazed.

They continue walking through the rest of the museum quietly, Harry silently absorbing the art, his gaze lingering on each piece, while Louis, with a mischievous grin, attempts to break his concentration with light touches and whispered, suggestive jokes.

"I'm genuinely interested in this." Harry insists, a playful defensiveness in his tone. "I'm dedicating my entire university experience to art. Just wait until my professors hear that I came here." He grins, pleased, while Louis rolls his eyes.

They grab lunch before heading back to the car (Harry had triple checked he was in a legal parking zone before leaving it). As they’re exiting the museum, Harry's phone vibrates in his pocket with a loud ding and he quickly flicks it to silent when he sees that it’s Mia texting him again. He's been deliberately ignoring her since leaving London, yet she seems oblivious to his lack of response.

The road to Rome is a breathtaking experience. The Tuscan landscape stops Harry in his tracks time and time again, inspiring him to pull over and capture its beauty in a flurry of photographs. Each stop, Louis patiently waits as Harry fills his notebook with sketches and observations, absorbing the essence of their trip under the warm sun and fresh, open sky.

When they finally pull into the city, and Harry is grateful Louis had offered to drive because he can't focus on anything but the stunning sights around him. He's overwhelmed with its beauty, the architecture of the ancient buildings setting a passionate spark alight in his belly. He's in absolute awe of the elaborate and luxurious design of each and every structure.

They pass the imposing walls of Vatican City, and by the time they reach the hotel, Harry realises his jaw has been hanging open in stunned awe for the entire drive. He glances at Louis, who meets his gaze with a warm smile as they both exit the car.

Harry watches Louis with a curious expression as he hands off the keys to the valet. Then, Louis takes Harry's hand, guiding him toward the entrance. "I hope you don't mind." Louis says casually. "I called ahead and upgraded our room to a suite." The words cause Harry to suddenly stop.

"Louis, wait, no. You didn't have to do that." Harry says, shaking his head, pulling Louis back towards him before he can reach the front desk. 

"Honestly, it's no problem at all." He says, a hint of a grin playing on his lips. "Actually, I managed to snag a pretty good deal. Sweet-talked my way into an upgrade, only cost a little extra." He shrugs his shoulders, and Harry, visibly relieved, beams at Louis.

They’re led to their top-floor room, and Harry stops dead in his tracks as they enter the doorway. The space is a stunning blend of classic Italian charm and sleek modern design. Open and airy, the room is bathed in natural light pouring through a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows.

Across the room, there’s a huge king sized four-poster bed, a living space with an enormous TV and two large plush sofas by the windows, and off the entryway is a full sized kitchen, the cupboard and fridge fully stocked with complimentary food and drinks. And just beyond that, a door that leads to a bathroom. Harry makes his way inside there first as the hotel clerk leaves them alone. 

The bathroom countertops are dark, golden marble with matching tiles that run up the walls. The shower is big enough for ten people and the bath— wow . Harry makes a mental note to get Louis in the bath with him at some point during their stay.

The whole suite is beautifully decorated with gold accents and artwork that takes Harry's breath away. The city view from the balcony is equally breathtaking, holding his attention until footsteps approach from behind and warm arms encircle his waist.

He turns in Louis’ arms and looks down at him in complete and utter amazement. "I can't believe you did this. It's so beautiful." He breathes out.

"You are.” Louis replies, his voice a lazy drawl against Harry's shoulder, seemingly oblivious to the chaos of butterflies he has ignited. He punctuates the words with a light kiss to the skin just visible beneath the edge of Harry's collar.

Harry's heart flutters and he feels his cheeks go warm. He instinctively burrows closer to Louis, finding comfort in the soft texture of his hair against his cheek as he rests his head down. A sharp pang of sadness pierces his chest at the thought that his time with Louis is dwindling, just two more days before they will inevitably part ways. He figures Louis will continue his journey alone once they reach Naples. Harry certainly doesn't expect him to go to the funeral with him. Hell, he doesn't even want to go, why would Louis?

"Should we go out for dinner? Or get room service?" Louis asks, leaning back and looking up at Harry.

Harry takes a moment to think. On one hand, he’s eager to see the city and eat all the carbs he can stomach. But on the other hand, he’s desperate to get Louis naked and run his tongue over every square inch of his soft, golden skin.

It's truly a dilemma.

Louis' voice cuts through his thoughts. "I know.” He says, gently interrupting. "How about we go out tonight? Then we can eat in tomorrow night. We'll be doing the tourist thing all day tomorrow and will be completely wiped out afterwards. So we can just relax, order room service, and watch movies on that enormous TV in there." He gestures towards the living area with a point of his thumb.

"That's a great plan." Harry agrees, his smile bright as he places a kiss on Louis' forehead. They turn and head inside to get ready.

~

"What?" Harry asks, stepping out of the bathroom, the remnants of his shower still clinging to his skin. His brow arches in question at Louis, who is sprawled on their bed, a hungry look in his eyes and lips slightly parted. Harry's gaze flicks downward, checking his sheer black shirt, still unbuttoned, his fingers toying with the collar. His hair, still damp, is pushed back from his forehead and curling tightly around his jaw.

Louis blinks rapidly, snapping out of his trance, his gaze darting from Harry's chest to his face. A faint blush colours his cheeks, but he quickly dismisses it with a shrug. "I like looking at your body, okay?" He declares, a smirk playing on his lips. "Something wrong with that?"

“Nope. Nothing wrong with that.” Harry answers as he allows his own eyes to roam over Louis sprawled body, taking in his outfit.

The light blue of his shirt seems to amplify the colour of his eyes, making them an impossible shade of blue. His black skinny jeans hug his form so perfectly that Harry has to fight the urge to drool. A sudden, visceral image of sinking his teeth into that soft flesh flashes through Harry's mind, and he has to swallow down the desire threatening to overcome him. Louis’ soft hair is pushed back effortlessly from his face, highlighting the stubble across his cheeks and jaw that he hasn’t bothered to shave.

Louis pushes himself up from the bed, a smirk playing on his lips. "Now who's staring?" He says, before moving to his shoes by the door and pocketing the room key.

It doesn't take them long to locate somewhere to eat, quickly finding a street lined with restaurants and cafes. Elegantly decorated tables and chairs clutter the sidewalks, alive with the chatter of crowds gathered at long tables, their laughter carrying on the breeze.

They over-order, too many plates spread before them, and settle into a comfortable buzz thanks to a bottle of red wine Louis had ordered for them. The silence that falls between them is easy and welcome as they both relax. Harry watches a contented smirk play on Louis' lips as he surveys their surroundings.

Harry reaches across the table and grabs the nearly empty wine bottle to fill their glasses, freezing mid-pour when his eyes catch on the label. "Shit." He murmurs, and huffs a humourless laugh.

"What's wrong?" Louis asks with concern as the bottle is placed back down between them.

Harry stares at the bottle, immediately recognising the label. He hadn’t noticed it when the waiter had delivered it to them earlier. He speaks quietly, the words a little stunned. "This is my dad’s wine."

Louis looks at him, seemingly not knowing what to say. Harry looks up from the bottle and at his confused face. A sad smile touches his lips as he takes a long drink. "It's really bloody good.” He murmurs. He continues, his voice tinged with a bittersweet understanding. "I mean, it kind of makes sense why he was never around. He was clearly so good at his job, gave it his all. In a twisted way, that actually makes me feel better. At least there was a reason he didn’t have time for me, he wasn't just a deadbeat. Somehow, that makes me kind of proud of him. I don't know..." Louis nods, appearing to understand, but Harry doubts he’s making any sense at all.

He returns his empty glass to the table with a loud clatter and sighs heavily. He begins to nervously drum his fingers against the wood as his mind swirls, then picks at his nails with growing agitation. Louis reaches across, taking his hands firmly, and lacing their fingers together, a silent attempt to soothe the restlessness.

"It's so stupid.” Harry chokes out, voice thick with emotion as his eyes start to sting. "I haven't felt a single thing about his death, not for a second since I heard. But this.. this feels.. like a sign, maybe. Like he's watching over me, or like I've somehow ended up exactly where I'm supposed to be." A lone tear escapes his eye, the first since his mother delivered the news.

Louis' hand moves across the table, his thumb delicately wiping away the wetness from Harry's cheek. The touch is almost reverent, sending a soft shiver through Harry. He sniffles, offering a grateful smile in response.

"I honestly have no idea how I'm going to face all those people." He continues, his worry growing. "How do I even approach this? Do I introduce myself? Or do I lurk in the corner, like one of those mysterious, silent figures you see at funerals in films?" He attempts a joke, but Louis' laugh is subdued, the somber expression on his face muting the humor.

Louis' fingers begin to trace the lines in his palm, and Harry sighs, the touch working its magic to soothe and ease his distress.

"I don't want to ruin his life by revealing his dirty secret. The moment they see me, they'll all wonder how he could have jeopardised everything for someone like me. Even if he was a bad father, that doesn't mean I have to be a bad son by further ruining his life, right?” He wonders, his voice laced with resignation.

Louis shakes his head gently, his fingers continuing their soothing strokes across Harry's hand. "You have options, love." He says softly. "You could go, pay your respects, find some peace, and then leave. Or, you could go and meet your family. No one would blame you for his mistake—" Louis' words catch in his throat, and he winces, his gaze falling on Harry with a look of apology. "I'm sorry, that didn't come out right. I don't mean that you were a mistake, just that what he did to his wife was his choice, not yours. You didn't choose this. You are incredible, Harry." He continues, his voice warm and earnest. "I don't understand how you can't see it. They would be so fortunate to have you in their lives."

At Louis’ kind words, fresh tears well in Harry's eyes. One escapes, then another, each promptly brushed away by Louis' gentle hand. "I just don't know how I'm going to face them.” Harry murmurs, his gaze lowered to the table.

"I can be right there with you, Harry. Just say the word." Louis says with so much sincerity. Harry snaps his eyes back up, his brows furrowing as he shakes his head, heart hammering. 

"Lou, I can't ask you to do that. It's.. I'll manage. Really.”

"I’m offering. I want to be there for you, Harry. We've come this far, right? What's one more day?" Louis shrugs with a soft smile, but Harry feels a sharp ache in his chest. One more day , he thinks. Eventually, that's all they're going to have left.

~

"No way, Harry." Louis declares, retreating into the kitchen to put distance between them. Harry advances, but pauses when a barrage of peanut M&Ms begin to fly in his direction.

"Ow!" Harry yells, rubbing the spot on his cheek where a particularly large, yellow one had struck him. Louis pauses his playful barrage, brandishing another one in the air like a warning. "Come on, Lou, please?" Harry pleads, his voice softening as he tries his best puppy-dog eyes.

"Stop with the eyes." Louis snaps, running a hand through his hair. "Dammit, why are you so infuriatingly cute?" He groans. "I'm not getting in the bath with you! I hate baths.” He insists, and Harry simply rolls his eyes.

Harry concedes with a sigh, his pout refusing to fade. "Fine.” He mutters. "But will you at least sit in the bathroom while I take a bath?" He adds the request with a sugary sweetness, grasping at whatever small win he can get.

"Alright, but let me be clear, if you splash me, I'm out of there." Louis points a stern finger at Harry, and Harry grins triumphantly, pinky swearing before they head for the bathroom. The bath is filled to the brim, a frothy mass of bubbles reaching for the edge. Lavender saturated the rising steam, and the soft glow of candles creates an instant sense of calm as Harry enters the room.

Louis settles onto the countertop by the sink, his legs crossed. Meanwhile, Harry tests the water, then begins to shed his clothes. He pauses once down to his boxers, thumbs hooked in the waistband, and turns to Louis, offering a final invitation to join him.

Louis' gaze lingers on Harry's body, tracing its contours before returning to his face. He swallows hard, the sound echoing in the quiet air. A shake of his head follows, a silent refusal. With a sigh of resignation, Harry bends, shedding his last piece of clothing, and slips into the water.

With an exaggerated groan, Harry sinks down beneath the bubbles. Resting his head back against the edge and closing his eyes, he exhales deeply in relaxation.

The brief moment of calm dissolves the second Harry looks up. Louis is already watching him, a hungry smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. A flash of Louis' tongue against his lips makes Harry's breath catch, and the barely disguised adjustment of his jeans sends heat prickling up Harry's neck.

Harry's movements are deliberate, almost languid, as he reaches for the body wash. He works the soap into a lather, his gaze fixed on Louis. He can feel the shift in the air, the growing tension radiating off Louis as he tugs at the collar of his shirt and scrubs his face with his hands.

"You know." Harry murmurs, his hands moving slowly over his soapy arms and chest. He glances up at Louis, lashes fluttering, a suggestive lilt in his voice. "This could be you doing this, if you were in here with me."

A strangled groan escapes Louis as his head lols against the mirror, his breathing becoming ragged. Harry continues, his voice a low purr. “Up my stomach. My chest. My legs..." He teases, sliding his hands up his thighs. The dissipating bubbles reveal more and more of Harry's skin, and Louis is utterly transfixed, his eyes following every movement of Harry's hands over his body.

"Just the thought of your hands on me is driving me crazy, Lou.” Harry whispers, resting his head against the rim of the tub as his hands trail higher, his eyes never leaving Louis. He’s not exaggerating, he’s desperately hard imagining Louis, glistening and soapy, washing his naked body with his bare touch.

Louis exhales shakily. "Yeah?" He asks and Harry offers an immediate nod. "Touch yourself.” Louis continues, the words carrying the weight of a command rather than a request.

Without hesitation, Harry’s hand moves down to grip himself, a soft whimper breaking from his lips at the feel of it, slick and warm from the soapy water . He catches the sharp intake of Louis' breath across the room, a reaction that only fuels his desire further.

"Fucking hell, Harry." Louis whispers. "How does it feel?” He's getting breathless as he watches Harry work himself beneath the soapy water.

Harry hums, a low, resonant sound, his fingers finding and teasing the sensitive head of his cock. "It feels so good, Lou." He breathes, his voice husky. "But I need you ." A soft groan, laced with longing, escapes him. Louis doesn’t hesitate. He jumps from the counter, his clothes falling to the floor as he scrambles into the bath, the water sloshing over the edge. He positions himself on Harry's lap, their lips meeting in an immediate, urgent kiss.

Louis moves his hand beneath the surface, gently pushing Harry's away, before taking hold of him. He begins to stroke, slow and deliberately, a sensual rhythm unfolding between them.

Harry's hand follows, closing around Louis' cock, matching the rhythm Louis had set. They pull apart briefly to gasp, then collide again in a heated kiss, the humid air between them filling their lungs.

"God, baby." Louis murmurs, his voice thick and raw. "You drive me fucking insane." He punctuates his words with a sharp bite on Harry's bottom lip. Harry's moan is a mixture of pain and pleasure, and Louis immediately softens the impact with long, drawn-out sucks.

"Faster, Lou. I'm so close. Faster, please." Harry begs, his plea barely a whisper as he leans his head heavily on Louis' shoulder, watching their hands move against each other. Louis responds immediately, quickening his pace, his grip tightening around Harry's cock, pulling him towards the precipice.

Almost instantly, Harry topples over the edge, a gasp of pure pleasure escaping his lips, his eyes momentarily closing. He tightens his grip on Louis, drawing a matching, shuddering release from him as well.

Louis leans down and presses his lips to Harry’s, pouring the last ounce of energy he has into the kiss. Harry's world narrows to just Louis, his mind swirling as he surrenders to the bliss, eyes fluttering shut. Louis presses closer, the warmth of his body a comforting weight above him.

"Don't go to sleep baby, we’ve got to clean off and  get into bed." Louis laughs fondly. Harry groans in displeasure but allows Louis to pull him out of the now lukewarm water and into the shower to rinse off.

They collapse onto the bed clean and completely sated. Harry instinctively curls up against Louis' chest and tangles their legs together and Louis peppers kisses to Harry's face as they get comfortable. 

Harry feels like he's floating through the clouds, completely relaxed and at ease. Just as he drifting off, Louis’ quiet voice breaks the silence.

"Harry?" He whispers, softly into Harry's hair.

"Hmm?" Is all Harry can manage to get out.

"I think maybe I like baths after all." He laughs and Harry exhales a small, amused huff into the skin of Louis' chest.

"Goodnight, love." Louis adds, kissing the top of Harry's head and pulls him in closer.

Chapter Text

Harry begins to find a painful familiarity in waking up completely surrounded by Louis' arms. The heat they generate, the sweat clinging to their skin as they lay pressed together, is something he has become accustomed to, almost against his better judgement.

Louis appears to be just as happy with the closeness, whimpering in his sleep any time Harry would roll away or get out of bed. Harry had noticed that Louis tends to be extra clingy in the mornings, and today, they both seem content to simply stay tangled together.

"So." Louis begins, his voice still thick with sleep as Harry nestles closer. "Breakfast, Colosseum, Trevi Fountain, lunch, shopping... what else?" He rattles off their day's agenda.

Harry yawns, the force of it making his eyelids heavy as Louis' warmth envelopes him. "I think that's it." He says, his words a bit sluggish. "We'll see most of the city going one place to the next, so once we're through, we can come right back here and just chill." He nestles closer into Louis' neck, placing soft, gentle kisses against the sleep warm skin.

Louis shivers under Harry's lips, goosebumps rising on his bare arms. Harry grins, pleased with the effect he has on him.

They finally pull themselves out of bed and get ready, Harry sporting his loudest patterned shirt, much to Louis' playful dismay. "You look like a proper tourist." Louis teases with a fond laugh. Harry responds with a playful eye-roll, a smile tugging at his lips as he examines his outfit.

"Gotta fit in." Harry says with a shrug, a quiet satisfaction blossoming within him that despite the playful teasing, Louis accepts him as he is.

"Those shorts really do things for your bum.” Louis teases, gesturing towards Harry's white linen shorts, which makes Harry burst out laughing.

Louis had gone with his usual casual look of denim shorts and a black muscle tank that reveals a tantalising hint of tanned skin. Harry had been mesmerised all morning, his eyes constantly drawn to the tattooed curve of Louis' collarbone peeking from beneath the fabric.

They go downstairs to the hotel's breakfast buffet. Harry keeps it simple, grabbing a banana and black coffee to hold him over till lunch.

Louis on the other hand, had been complaining since they woke up that he was starving. He fills his plate with one of everything at the buffet and washes it down with two large glasses of orange juice. Harry watches fondly as Louis chews his last piece of bacon before he sits back in his chair with a satisfied sigh, a hand rubbing over the small swell of his belly. 

~

Harry is absolutely blown away by the Colosseum. It is everything he had pictured, an extraordinary sight he knows he’ll never forget. Standing there, thinking about all the history that went down in the very spot he is standing, is just incredible. Even Louis, who usually scoffs at the historical stuff, looks genuinely impressed by it.

"It's big, innit?" Harry says dreamily as he stares up at the top of the structure.

"That's one way to describe it." Louis laughs and then takes Harry's hand and leads him along for the rest of the tour.

At the next stop, Louis starts to groan, the sound becoming more insistent with each passing moment until Harry can no longer ignore him. Noticing his discomfort, he finally asks what is wrong.

"My feet hurt." Louis complains with a drawn out whine as they walk towards Trevi Fountain.

"Maybe if you had socks on with your shoes, you wouldn’t get blisters." Harry states the obvious, pointing down at Louis’ sockless feet causing Louis to roll his eyes.

"I ran out of clean socks two days ago. I figured I would be fine without them." Harry laughs and shakes his head. 

"You should have just borrowed some of mine." He offers, laughing gently. "We'll get you more when we go shopping. You'll definitely need some for the rest of your travels, and I won't be here for you to steal from in a few days." Though the last part is lighthearted, Harry notices the fleeting shadow of sadness on Louis' face, a mirror of the same ache he feels at the thought of their upcoming separation.

Harry halts in front of the fountain, a sense of relief washing over him. "We’re here!" He breathes, eager to leave the earlier discussion behind.

"Wonder if you're allowed to swim in there. It's so fucking hot." Louis mutters, groaning and shielding his eyes from the intense sun.

"I think the huge sign with the cartoon man in the fountain with a cross through it, in every language, pretty clearly screams 'no swimming'.” Harry says flatly. Louis rolls his eyes. "Here." Harry adds, extending his hand. Louis narrows his eyes with suspicion, but reaches out to take whatever Harry has hidden in his palm.

"Ah!" Louis says, his smile blooming as the shiny coin settles into his palm, understanding dawning in his eyes.

"Now.." Harry starts. "The precise legend of the Trevi Fountain states that you should stand with your back to the fountain, then toss a coin over your left shoulder. This superstition is said to guarantee a return trip to Rome."

Louis nods his head. "You've done your research then." He says, turning his back to the fountain at the same time Harry does.

"Yeah, I had everything for this trip all mapped out. Then you showed up and mixed things up a bit, but, honestly, it's turning out way better than I thought it would. So far, anyway."

They smile fondly at each other for a moment before a shrieking child nearby snaps them back to the moment, 

"On three, okay?" Louis says, looking down at his hands like he’s trying to figure out which one is his left.

"One." Louis counts, looking over to Harry and grinning.

"Two." They both smile wide at each other, placing their coins onto their thumbs, ready to flick it away.

"Three!" They both shout at the same time, tossing the coins up and over their shoulder and turning around just in time to watch them land in the clear blue water with a tiny splash.

They're grinning ear to ear as they face each other, then Louis reaches out to take Harry's hand in his. "Made a wish too. Does it say anything in the legend about wishes?" Louis asks as they start their slow walk away from the fountain to get lunch.

"I’m not sure. I'll have to research it and let you know." Then Harry asks curiously. "What did you wish for?"

"Ahh, young Harold." Louis says with feigned seriousness. "I can't very well tell you that, can I? Otherwise it won't come true." He taps his nose conspicuously and pulls Harry along through the city.

After lunch they head to the Via del Corso to stroll through the strip of stores along the street. Harry goes starry eyed when they stop in front of Gucci,  Bvlgari and Dolce & Gabbana, but he doesn’t dare go inside. Louis seems more interested in the Vans outlet and the gelato cart that keeps passing them along the sidewalk. 

They each make a few purchases. Louis stocks up on travel essentials, grabbing some much needed new clothes, socks, and underwear. Harry picks out a magnet for his mum and some souvenirs for himself. Louis goes off to use the bathroom and when he comes back, Harry is waiting with a scoop of chocolate gelato.

Harry passes the slightly melting cone to Louis, then quickly licks the drips from his fingers. "Got hit on while you were gone.” He states, in a voice that suggests it was nothing particularly significant, as he continues to enjoy his gelato.

Louis' gaze sharpens, fixed on Harry. "Bloody hell, Harry.” He exclaims, a mix of surprise and mock exasperation in his voice. "Can't even leave you alone for a piss without someone swooping in." Harry catches the subtle edge in Louis' joking tone, a hint of jealousy, and decides to indulge it.

"He was very handsome." Harry teases, pretending to swoon. "Told me I was far too beautiful to be sitting all alone. Said I should go with him to get a taste of some real Italian." Harry's gaze flickers to Louis, who immediately stiffens. His jaw tightens, and his hands clench into fists, the once perfect ice cream cone now bearing the brunt of his tension. A smirk dances on Harry's lips, relishing in this. Jealousy is a very attractive look on Louis.

~

"Okay. The Notebook? Or Dirty Dancing? Or... Titanic?" Harry lists off movie options as he searches through the TV guide. "Or there's a bunch of Italian shows on thay I'm never going to understand." He adds.

Louis' sarcastic voice booms from the balcony, where he sat with a cigarette. "Oh, how romantic, Haz. Is this a date or something?" Harry rolls his eyes, a smile playing on his lips. Louis is already on his third cigarette since they'd returned to their suite thirty minutes ago. He still seems wound up about something, and Harry is enjoying needling the tension that had slowly started to unravel.

"Just a heads up, I'm likely going to cry regardless of what we pick." Harry admits, his lower lip pushing out slightly as he shifts towards the terrace door and leans against the frame. Louis' expression softens at Harry's vulnerability.

Pushing himself to his feet, Louis stubs out his cigarette and makes his way to Harry. His smile is warm as he raises a hand, his fingers brushing Harry's face, his thumb lingering at the spot where Harry's dimple usually appears. 

"You're very cute." Louis murmurs, before leaning in to place a soft kiss on the corner of Harry's mouth. He follows it with a peck on the other side, and then, finally, a gentle press of his lips against Harry's. Harry's smile blooms, dimples deepening beneath Louis' thumb as he looks down at him.

"I'm gonna go shower and get comfy. Why don’t you order some room service and then we'll pick a movie together." Louis says, giving Harry one more lingering kiss before he walks passed Harry and into the bathroom.

After a shower, Harry slips into comfortable sweatpants, just in time for the food to arrive. They eat on the terrace, watching the sun set on their last evening in Rome. After, they cozy up on the couch, deciding on The Notebook, Harry's favourite of the three options.

Harry has seen this movie so many times he's lost count. He loves it, but he’d never been able to understand how Allie and Noah could fall in love so immediately. The way they looked at each other always seemed so far-fetched and something he'd only ever seen in his favourite romance films. Now though, as he lays with his head in Louis' lap while Louis gently scratches at his scalp and plays with his hair, Harry feels as though maybe he's beginning to understand.

The agonising thought of having something this special within his grasp, only for it to be taken away, causes a single tear to break free. It lands softly against the fabric of Louis' sweatpants, and Harry prays with all his might that it remains unnoticed.

He can't focus on the movie as his mind whirls with all different scenarios of him and Louis together. Of Louis not leaving. He lets himself imagine them returning to London together, introducing him to his mother and his friends. For a fleeting moment, he allows himself to imagine their life together. The full weight of his emotions are held back until he witnesses the final, peaceful image of Allie and Noah in the hospital, and then, the tears come freely.

He fights the sob rising from his hurt heart, but it escapes anyway. "Oh love, come here." Louis murmurs, and as Harry sits up, he notices tears welling in Louis' eyes as well. Louis opens his arms, and Harry gratefully climbs into his lap, resting his head on his shoulder.

Louis' hands move in a gentle rhythm across Harry's back, his soft shushing and kisses to his temple a balm to his soul. Harry feels enveloped in a sense of safety, completely relaxing in Louis' arms. It’s a feeling unlike he'd ever known before. With Louis, he feels like he can finally be his true, uninhibited self.

His tears calm down and he risks sitting back to look at Louis even though he knows he must look a mess. Louis doesn't shudder away from his red eyes and damp cheeks, instead he kisses him softly on the lips and wipes the wetness away gently with his thumb.

"Are you alright, darling?" He asks down at Harry with a soft smile. 

"Yeah." Harry nods, huffing out an embarrassed laugh. "This movie gets me every time." He adds.

"You did warn me." Louis chuckles, pecking another kiss to Harry's forehead.

Harry releases a contented sigh, his fingers tracing paths through Louis' hair and down his neck, reveling in the warmth of his skin beneath his touch. "Louis, I—" He begins, but the words catch in his throat, swallowed back before they can be spoken. Instead, he settles on, "I'm really glad I met you." Louis’ beaming smile is enough to quiet the restless flutter in Harry’s chest.

Louis surges forward and connects their lips, his kiss a passionate declaration, a physical answer to the unspoken longing between them. Harry's stomach flips, a flutter of butterflies taking flight, their wings brushing against his ribs, his heart, until his mind swims in a blissful haze.

Louis' hand tightens on Harry's thigh, and without parting from their kiss, he shifts, pulling Harry's leg over his own so he is straddling him. The changed angle deepens the kiss, eliciting a gasp from Harry, whose hands instinctively bury themselves in Louis' hair, urging him nearer. Louis' hands explor Harry's back, fingertips sinking into his hips before settling on his arse, kneading the fabric of his sweatpants with possessive pressure.

Harry’s senses are in overdrive. Louis is everywhere— a physical and emotional force. Every touch, every thought, his very heart is consumed by him. Harry is completely gone for him, and all his attempts at denial are futile.

"Do you want— bed?" Louis asks breathlessly between kisses, unable to keep his lips off Harry for more than a second. Harry nods instantly and stands up, pulling Louis up with him and leading him across the suite to the bed, losing his shirt along the way. It's still unmade from where they had crawled out of it this morning, sheets rumpled and pillows askew. Harry lays down gently on his back, arranging a pillow under his head before Louis quickly follows, positioning himself over Harry and reclaiming their kiss.

Louis' hands fly to the hem of his shirt, ripping it off before he presses his bare chest against Harry's. A rush of sensation floods Harry's skin, every inch alight. Heat spreads through him as Louis' hands begins their slow, deliberate exploration of his torso.

"God, Harry, you drive me out of my mind." Louis growls, his mouth tracing a line down Harry’s throat. 

Harry hums in understanding. Louis makes him feel exactly the same, a wild, breathless kind of crazy.

"Hearing that someone else called you beautiful.. trying to take you away. Fuck, I was ready to hunt him down and show him who you belong to." He punctuates his words with a firm nip to Harry’s jaw and Harry can't help how hard he's getting at Louis' possessiveness. He arches up into Louis in response, finding that Louis is just as hard.

Louis groans into Harry's neck at the contact, his warm breath against Harry’s skin sending ripples of pleasure right through his core.

"God, Lou.”  Harry exhales, his voice catching. He watches, captivated, as Louis' head dips, a trail of soft kisses tracing a path from his chest down to his stomach. Harry's gaze follows, heavy with emotion, as Louis shifts, settling between his legs. A slow, deliberate lick of his lower lip precedes Louis' eyes sweeping over Harry's body with a hungry intensity.

Harry squirms under Louis' gaze which only seems to encourage him more. With a playful smirk, Louis' fingers dance down Harry's stomach, lingering with a light stroke against his waistband. Harry holds his breath, fighting back a giggle as he tries to focus on anything but the ticklish sensation. Instead, he focuses on Louis’ face, the way his tongue darts across his lips as he stares down at Harry hungrily, and how his fringe falls over his eyes that have darkened significantly.

Unable to hold back any longer, Harry shifts, his hands framing Louis' face and drawing him into a deep kiss, pouring all his pent-up emotions into it. Louis' breath hitches, but he responds eagerly, his body melting against Harry. Harry breaks the kiss, his lips traveling down Louis' neck, where he nips and sucks, claiming the sensitive skin with a dark mark.

Louis moans at the feeling, the gravelly sound vibrating against Harry’s lips sending a jolt of heat straight to his already hard cock. When Harry is satisfied, he leans back to inspect his work, a deep bruise standing stark against Louis’ tanned skin. A powerful wave of possessiveness crashes over Harry, and when he finally meets Louis' eyes, he finds the same raw want reflected back.

Louis seems momentarily stunned as he looks down at Harry, a thousand tiny emotions flickering across his face that Harry doesn’t have time to decode. "Fuck." Louis whispers, as if to himself, his head shaking slightly. “You actually are the most beautiful human I've even seen." He adds, causing a flurry of butterflies to take flight. 

Harry doesn't get a chance to respond before Louis’ usual reading smirk returns. He leans in and kisses Harry quickly, before shifting down the bed to settle between Harry's legs. His lips then trace a path along Harry's hip bone, and he reaches to tug down Harry's sweatpants. But he pauses, his eyes meeting Harry's, a silent request for permission. Harry nods eagerly, and Louis lets out a surprised breath upon noticing the bare skin beneath the sweatpants.

He glances up at Harry with a grin as he pulls them the rest of the way off. His throbbing cock, slick with pre-cum, brushes against his belly. The sensation of being unconstrained draws a moan from Harry, his eyes fluttering shut as he tries to regain his composure.

"What do you want, baby." Louis asks against his skin as he kisses up Harry's inner thigh and across his groin. 

"Your mouth." He practically gasps, his words tumbling out in a rush. He was too consumed by desire to feel any shame for his eagerness. Opening his eyes, he catches Louis' smirk, a knowing curve against the skin of his thigh. Without pause, Louis' hand closes around Harry's cock, stroking the tip of it along his lower lip with deliberate, teasing movements.

Harry presses his head against the pillow and tries to control his ragged breathing. His body is thrumming as though he’s going to come out of his skin if he doesn’t get some relief soon. He's about to open his mouth and tell Louis to stop teasing when he's suddenly being enveloped in Louis' warm, wet mouth.

A gasp of surprise escapes him as the unexpected sensation hits, followed by an involuntary buck of his hips. Louis remains still, not even flinching as Harry plunges deeper than intended, sliding far down his throat.

Harry’s hands slide over his face and tangle in his hair, tugging the strands to try and regain some composure. He needs a moment to gather himself, the pressure building too fast. He's never had someone so skilled, so intent on his pleasure before. He was always the one focused on pleasing others, often left high and dry, a common experience with past partners.

But Louis sucks his cock like his life depends on it, giving it his all and letting out little moans of pleasure like he’s getting off from it. Harry’s a writhing mess against the sheets, and Louis holds his hips firmly, digging his nails into the skin as he tries to keep Harry still.

Harry is on the brink when Louis unexpectedly pulls away with a slick sound and shifts to using his hand instead. He plants kisses on the delicate skin between Harry's thighs, then moves up to take one of his balls gently into his mouth, sucking softly. The shift in sensation sends Harry’s mind reeling.

"Jesus, Lou." Harry gasps out. "More. I need more. Please." Overwhelmed, he squeezes his eyes tightly shut. 

"You want my fingers, baby?" Louis asks, voice husky and raw and Harry nods immediately.

"God, yes. Please." Louis takes his hand off Harry and pushes himself up, much to Harry's dismay. He whimpers, a long, mournful sound that earns him a low, amused chuckle from Louis.

“Alright, love. I’ll be right back." He assures, leaning back down just long enough to peck away Harry's pout, then he's rushing across the suite and into the bathroom.

He reappears almost immediately, throwing a small black bag down beside Harry. Then, discarding his remaining clothes, he climbs back onto the bed.

He settles back comfortably between Harry's legs, then opens the bag and retrieves a small bottle of lube. With a click, he opens the bottle, squeezes some onto his fingers, and then brings Harry's cock back into his mouth.

Harry's breath is snatched from his lungs when Louis pushes one of his legs up higher and brings his slippery finger to his hole, rubbing slow circles over his rim while he slowly works at his cock with his mouth.

The intensity of the sensation is almost overwhelming, and a strained moan escapes Harry as Louis slides a finger inside him, beginning a slow, deliberate rhythm. Harry looks down at Louis, watching his cheeks draw in with the force of each suck, just as he adds a second finger.

Harry is simultaneously drowning in sensation and desperately craving more. He's consumed by an overwhelming pleasure, yet a greedy desire gnaws at him. Just as Harry’s about to beg, Louis changes the angle of his fingers. The firm pressure against Harry's prostate causes an animalistic sound to escape from the depth of his chest, and Louis moans with his mouth stuffed full. 

"Lou— Please. Fucking hell." Harry chokes out, on the brink of collapse. 

Louis lifts his head and slows his fingers as he meets Harry's eyes above him. "Tell me what you want, Harry. What do you need?”

Harry works hard to get his jumbled thoughts in order, willing himself to answer. He tries and fails to remember a time a partner had asked him what he needed. His lips part, but no words come out. When Louis bites gently at his thigh, it snaps him out of his daze.

"I need you to fuck me." He breathes out in a rush of air he had been holding on his lungs. 

Louis stills his fingers like he hadn’t been expecting Harry to say that. Harry lets out a frustrated groan, the pleasure abruptly cut short. "Lou, please." He begs, but Louis swiftly withdraws his fingers. Instead, he leans forward, emptying the contents of a black bag and revealing a surprisingly large stash of condoms. Despite his desperation, Harry bursts out laughing at the unexpected and impressive collection.

A blush colours Louis' cheeks for just a second before his focus returns. He rips open the foil, and Harry watches as the condom is smoothly rolled down his length.

His hair tumbles forward, obscuring his face, his usually blue eyes are dark and glazed. Sweat glistens on his chest and toned stomach. He leaned in, pressing a feverish kiss to Harry's lips, a sharp nip followed by a slow, soothing suck as he draws the lower lip into his mouth.

"I don't think I'm gonna last." Harry breathes shakily into Louis' lips. Louis chuckles and shakes his head.

“Good. Because I don't think I am either. I could come just from looking at you." He adds making Harry's already red cheeks even redder.

He pulls back slightly, his fingers circling his length before he positions himself against Harry. He presses in gradually, taking his time, though Harry meets him halfway with a surge of his own hips. The breath rushes out of them as Louis finally bottoms out, the sensation electrifying.

They pause, their breaths mixing as Harry adjusts to the intrusion. Their mouths press together, too dazed for a proper kiss.

"Louis. Please move. I'm good.” Harry says breathlessly. Louis nods and he begins to pull back slowly, almost completely withdrawing before pushing in again with a little more intensity. Harry moans, and Louis finds a steady rhythm, his hips moving as he thrusts in deep.

Harry's mind empties, filled only with the waves of pleasure washing over him. His vision, his hearing, all narrow to Louis. He gasps for breath beneath Louis' body, utterly consumed, utterly at his mercy.

Louis lowers his head, attempting a kiss, but the effort is too much. Their mouths brush, releasing more of a shared sigh than a kiss. Louis takes control, his hips driving into Harry with growing urgency, each thrust deliberate and hitting precisely where Harry needs it.

"Oh, god. Lou, right there!" He chokes out, lungs burning as he fights for breath. "I'm so close"

"Fuck. Baby, you feel so good." Louis groans and reaches down, grabbing Harry's leaking cock and giving it a few firm pulls.

Harry teeters on the edge, the blood pounding in his ears as flashes of light dance behind his closed eyes. A guttural groan rips from his throat, echoing through the room as Louis’ thumb drags over the tip of his cock, pressing into his slit. Harry’s nails score into Louis' back as he comes, the contact sending a jolt through Louis, and he is coming hard barely a second later.

A haze clings to them, making it minutes before either can manage to open their eyes or string together a thought. Slowly, Louis lifts his head from the crook of Harry's neck, finally finding the strength to meet his lips, their mouths meeting in a drawn-out, soft kiss.

Harry's breath finally slows, and he manages to look up at Louis. "Louis, I..." He stammers, but his heart is pounding so loudly he isn’t sure if the words were even audible.

Louis looks down at him with a soft look in his eyes that Harry can't quite decipher. "I know. Me too, baby." He replies quietly, and before Harry can think about what it could mean, Louis is grasping Harry's face in his trembling hand, his thumb rubbing along Harry's bottom lip and kissing him deeply, the unspoken words pouring out between them. 

Chapter Text

The afternoon is already well underway when the pair finally stirs. A leisurely morning of late sleeping and lingering kisses leaves them gasping for air beneath the covers, and only the approaching checkout time is able to finally coax them out of bed.

Harry steps out of the bathroom, running a towel through his wet hair. His eyes are immediately drawn to the balcony, where Louis stands silhouetted against the cityscape, a cigarette between his fingers, and the sun bathing the contours of his bare back and shoulders in a golden light. 

Stubbing out his cigarette, Louis turns around and walks back into the suite to find Harry staring, his lips slightly parted and eyes fixed on Louis with a hungry look. "You do that a lot." Louis teases, a grin playing on his lips.

"Can you blame me?” Harry blushes, letting his eyes trace a slow path down Louis' naked body, not even bothering to hide the heat in his gaze. Louis leans up and kisses him on the lips, lingering for a moment before he makes his way to the shower.

Harry needs to step outside for some fresh air to stop himself from rushing after him and making them fall even further behind schedule. 

Once on the road, they opt for the convenience of drive-thru McDonald's on their way out of the city. Harry becomes increasingly nervous, knowing that in just a few hours, he will be putting himself into an extremely uncomfortable situation.

Louis picks up on Harry's anxiety and reaches across to clasp his hand, his thumb brushing against the frantic pulse in his wrist. "Alright?" He asks, a gentle smile playing on his lips. Harry nods and tries to smile back, but it feels weak. He lets out a sigh, turning his attention back to the road and concentrates on driving.

A comfortable silence settles between them as they watch the blur of trees glide past the car windows. From time to time, Louis breaks the quiet, spotting shapes in the clouds— a dinosaur, a bunny, a penis, then a cat. Harry's laughter is soft, appreciating the gentle efforts to ease his mind.

It works for a while, but Harry's anxiety escalates once Louis takes the wheel, leaving him with too much time to dwell on his thoughts. As they near their destination, he withdraws further, making it increasingly obvious that Louis is reaching his breaking point. 

With a sharp screech of tires biting into the loose gravel, Louis pulls the car onto the shoulder of the road. He turns in his seat, trying to meet Harry's gaze.

Louis speaks in a low voice. "Hey." He gently reaches out to place his palm on Harry's thigh. Harry's gaze lifts to meet Louis', his thoughts a chaotic whirlwind as he battles to keep a panic attack at bay. "Do we need to be in Naples by a certain time?" Louis inquires.

"No.” He shakes his head. “The funeral isn't until tomorrow. I was just going to go and find somewhere nearby to stay and go right to sleep to try and get it over with faster."

"You didn't book a place to stay?" Louis asks, his confusion evident. Harry understands, every other aspect of the trip had been planned and booked with meticulous care.

Harry lowers his head, his voice quiet. "Honestly, I didn't really think I'd get this far. I figured I'd have lost my nerve and gone back home by now." He gives a little self-deprecating laugh. "I think the only reason I made it to this point is because you're here." He looks down at his hands, twisting his ring as if trying to soothe himself.

"Right. That's it." Louis declares, the firmness in his voice jolting Harry out of his somber thoughts. Without another word, Louis whips the car around in a U-turn, merging back into traffic, now heading in the opposite direction. Harry stares, stunned. Louis, his face set with intense determination, keeps his eyes fixed on the road ahead.

"What are you doing?" Harry questions as the navigation unit tells them to turn back around.

"I'm doing whatever I can to get rid of that look." He says, waving a hand almost desperately in front of Harry's face. "It's just.. it's breaking my heart."

Harry's heart soars in his chest, and a wide, toothy grin spreads across his face, even as his eyes begin to glisten with unshed tears.

"Alright, where are we headed?" He asks, grinning brightly.

Louis' smile is like a switch, instantly flipping his mood from impending doom to pure lightness. "You'll see.” Louis says with a smirk, before accelerating towards their destination.

~

"A Ferry?" Harry says as he looks out across the sea from the dock.

"Yep.”  Louis says, beaming. A gentle breeze dances through his hair, making it slightly disheveled. "When I was twelve, my parents took us on holiday. They had a friend who owned a house on Procida, a small island just a short distance from here. It should be about a forty-five-minute ferry ride, and we can take the car across. What do you think?”

Harry stares at Louis in disbelief, utterly taken aback by what he’s done for him. He never expected this, but now he can’t imagine a more perfect way to spend what could be their final night together.

Harry thanks Louis with a drawn-out kiss, and when he pulls away, Louis is blushing prettily, his lips curving into a happy little smile. "Let's go.” Harry says, threading their fingers together.

The trip to Procida is quick, and before Harry knows it they are driving off the docks and heading onto the island in search of a place to stay for the night. 

Harry is completely mesmerised by the tiny island. Colourful homes and buildings line the shore and ascend the hills, all against the backdrop of sparkling, crystal-clear water and powdery white sand of the beach.

They pull over in a parking lot above a hidden beach. To reach the sand, they have to navigate a crooked wooden staircase carved into the surrounding cliffs, but it’s worth the efforts once Harry steps into the soft sand, his toes wiggling happily.

"We'll need to find a hotel." Louis announces as they watch the sun sink lower into the horizon, painting the sky the most magnificent orange colour. "It’s a shame we won't get to see much of the island. It’ll be dark soon, and we'll have to leave early in the morning if we want to make it to Naples on time." He adds.

Harry doesn't mind at all.  He'd enjoyed the incredible island views from the ferry and taken lots of pictures. He’s just happy to be here. He is thankful that Louis had thought to bring him.

"Thank you for this, Lou." He says with genuine appreciation, turning to face Louis who is bathed in golden light. Harry grabs Louis' hand and pulls it up to his mouth, softly kissing his knuckles.

"Of course, darling. I couldn't stand seeing you so stressed out. We'll deal with what's to come tomorrow. Let's just enjoy tonight together, yeah?" Harry's heart aches at the finality underlying those words. Tomorrow is his last day before he starts his journey back home, and away from Louis. As much as he’d like to, he can't avoid thinking about it, not when it's literally staring him in the face.

Seeing the sadness in Harry's eyes, Louis gently kisses him before leading him back towards the car. "Let's head into town for some food." He suggests, a smirk playing on his lips. "I might actually have an idea of where we can stay." Harry, already familiar with that mischievous gleam, knows Louis is definitely up to something. He can practically see the gears turning in his head.

They discover a patisserie tucked away on a side street and stock up on an array of pastries and sweets for dinner. Harry glances at Louis with a puzzled look as they find themselves pulling back into the exact same car park they'd left not even an hour ago.

"What are you up to?" Harry asks with confusion.

"How about." Louis says, indicating towards the beach. “We just stay here?” Harry's eyes open wide in surprise, and Louis barrels on. "We could walk back down for a picnic, maybe take a swim, then come back here and…" He swings around and  looks to the back of the car, as if measuring the space. "…sleep in the back?"

Harry's grin is wide and almost maniacal, his heart bursting in his chest. Tears prick at his eyes, the weight of the moment almost unbearable. He’s never known this kind of treatment, this level of pure kindness and consideration. It’s a simple act, yet it sends him spiraling, his emotions tumbling headfirst and causing him to fall deeper for Louis.

"Don't cry, love." Louis says, concern evident in his voice. "We can find somewhere else if you don't want to stay here? Shit, I'm sorry, I—“ Harry interrupts by climbing over the centre console and into Louis' lap, showering him with affectionate kisses on his face.

With a relieved laugh, Louis leans back in his seat as Harry finally reaches his lips, claiming them with a slow, passionate kiss that leaves them both gasping for air.

"You're.. beyond perfect." Harry murmurs, his voice barely audible between them. "No one has ever made me feel like this, or taken care of me the way you do." He nuzzles his nose against Louis' jaw, a soft giggle escaping him as he feels the slight prickle of stubble.

Louis leans back a fraction, his gaze locking intensely with Harry's. "You deserve to be treated as a prince, Harry. Someone to cherish you, to shower you with good things. Someone who—" He cuts himself off, inhaling sharply, his eyes dropping to his lap. "Someone who can offer you more than I ever could."

Harry can’t quite believe Louis could think he wanted anything other than this. He doesn’t need anything from him, he just wants Louis. 

Harry opens his mouth to say something but Louis speaks over him. "Let's go eat, yeah? And I want to get in that water before it gets too cold." He pecks Harry's lips quickly and taps his thighs to signal for him to climb off.

They carefully descend the rickety stairs again, Louis' hand a steadying presence at Harry's waist. Once on the sand, Harry spreads out a blanket, and they settle down to eat, just as the last sliver of sun disappears below the horizon.

"Want to go skinny dipping?" Louis asks with a smirk once they’ve finished eating, and despite Harry's somber mood, he finds himself unable to resist a naked swim.

Harry returns the grin as Louis playfully waggles his eyebrows. They leap up, quickly shedding their clothes, and dash into the water, hand in hand. The water is still pleasantly warm from the sun, feeling like a comforting bath to Harry.

After submerging himself, he floats on his back and gazes up at the slowly appearing stars. The thought of where he is right now strikes him— a perfect island paradise off the coast of Italy, with the most perfect man beside him. A week ago, he never in his wildest dreams would have thought things would turn out this way.

His peaceful thoughts are abruptly broken as he’s being hauled beneath the surface by a sudden, forceful tug. Water rushes past his ears as he kicks and struggles in blind terror, hitting something hard before instinctively swimming for safety. He pauses, heart pounding, when Louis' manic peals of laughter reach him.

“You scared me half to death!” Harry gasps and sends a spray of water towards Louis. “I thought you were a shark." He presses a hand to his chest, his heart hammering wildly against his palm.

Louis laughs out loud again and Harry sends him a sharp glare. The look only fuels Louis' amusement, sending him into a fit of giggles that  almost cause him to double over. "The water is only waist deep. I don't think we need to worry about sharks, baby." His laughter subsides when Harry's glare softens into a pout, and a flicker of guilt seems to cross Louis' face.

"C'mere." Louis says gently, and Harry crosses his arms over his chest in defiance. "I'm sorry, darling. I was only playing." His voice is apologetic as he stretches his arms out in invitation. Harry tries to hold on to his anger, but he can't resist for long. He swims over and melts into Louis' embrace, the hug soothing his frazzled nerves.

They move towards the shoreline and settle themselves on the sand in the shallow water. Harry climbs into Louis' lap and wraps his legs tightly around his waist. They kiss deeply and passionately as the waves gently curl around them, lapping at their skin. Harry feels the kisses from his head down to the tips of his sandy toes, and desperately hopes they convey the feelings that he isn’t brave enough to say out loud.

As the water's chill begins to seep in, and their lips have gone completely numb, they make their way back to the car to dry off. Harry retrieves a hoodie and sweatpants for each of them from his bag, while Louis produces a bottle of wine seemingly out of nowhere.

"When did you even get that?" Harry asks in delight.

"I pinched it from the hotel back in Rome." Louis shrugs, a proud look on his face. Harry rolls his eyes, but smiles happily.

They arrange themselves in the back of the car, a blanket settled over them. They leave the hatch ajar, letting the sounds of the waves wash in. With their arms wrapped around each other, they finish the wine, the silence between them as peaceful as the ocean before them. Harry breathes out a sigh of pure contentment.

"Lou?" Harry tilts his head and looks up at Louis, voice quiet so as to not disturb their peaceful atmosphere. 

"Hmm?" Louis responds still gazing out at the water, his fingers grazing up and down Harry’s arm. 

"I don't want you to leave." Harry murmurs, his voice barely a whisper. He watches as Louis' eyelids flutter shut, a line of worry deepening between his brows. A long breath escapes Louis, as if he'd been anticipating the words but still dreaded hearing them.

"Harry, I—“ Louis starts but Harry cuts him off. 

"Stay with me." He pleads, pushing himself up to a sitting position so he can meet Louis' gaze directly. "Come back with me, please. I—I'm..."

Louis shakes his head abruptly, cutting Harry off as he finally looks at him. His eyes lock on Harry, a pained expression on his face. "Don't." He breathes, the word almost a plea. "Please don't say it. Because if you do, It's going to make it so much harder to walk away from you."

"Then don't!" Harry roars, shattering the fragile peace. He's reached his breaking point. He's kept quiet for far too long, and now, he's unleashing everything he's been trying to hold inside.

"It's not that simple, Harry!" Louis fires back, tears welling in his eyes. "I can't go back there. I have nothing left.” His voice trembles and Harry’s heart splits in two. “My parents want nothing to do with me. I’m being kept from my sisters. I’m jobless, and homeless. I have nothing to offer you, don’t you understand? You deserve the world Harry, and I can't give it to you."

"So, what was all this for you then, huh?" He sweeps his hand between them, tears making his vision swim. "Just a summer fling? A free ride, with a little sex thrown in?” Louis shakes his head, his eyes clamped shut as a single tear traces a path down his cheek. "Tell me it doesn't mean as much to you as it does to me. You can't.” He chokes, his voice thick with emotion. Harry struggles to regulate his ragged breathing, lungs clenching tightly.

Louis lowers his head into his hands, and Harry continues, voice cracking as the desperate need to get his point across takes over.

" You are the one that doesn't understand, Louis. I don't want the fucking world, I just want you." He can't stop the tears from falling now. He can feel Louis slipping from his grasp, their final hours together crashing into a heap.

Louis looks at him, a soft vulnerability in his gaze. "Why?" He breathes, the word barely audible.

Seeing him look so vulnerable, Harry's heart aches. It is unbearable to watch his insecurity. He doesn’t deserve the sadness painted across his face, not when he treats Harry so well. He talks so much about Harry being worthy of the world, but Harry wishes he could see that he was just as deserving.

Despite knowing it's only been seven days, Harry can't pretend any longer. He realises how absurd it sounds, but his feelings are undeniable, especially now that he has nothing to lose.

"Why on earth would you want me ?" Louis asks, his voice insecure, his lower lip trembling. 

Harry sighs heavily, a defeated smile creeping across his face. “Because I'm falling for you.” He admits with a shrug. "Can't you see that? I want you, Louis. This was never just a fling for me." Louis looks up in surprise.

Louis reaches up hesitantly and swipes the tears from Harry's cheek. "You want me?" He asks and Harry nods, leaning into Louis’ touch. "How? My own parents don't even want me after twenty two years. How could you possibly want me after only knowing me for seven days?"

Harry huffs a laugh of frustration, baffled by Louis' inability to see just how wonderful he is.

"Louis." He says, his hand reaching for Louis' chin, tilting his head to meet his eyes. "I've never felt this way before. It doesn’t matter that it's only been a week. You treat me with more care and kindness than someone I had been with for months." He shifts closer, taking Louis' hand, and holding it tightly to his chest.

Louis just stares at him in disbelief. 

"It doesn't matter to me what you have or what you do." Harry insists, his gaze holding Louis’. "None of those things matter to me. And believe me, I'm just as unsure about my own life." A soft smile touches his lips as he lifts Louis’ hand, pressing a delicate kiss to the skin.

Louis remains silent, his gaze fixed on Harry, a stunned look frozen on his face. Tears trace slow paths down his cheeks.

"Louis, I can't remember the last time I’ve been this happy— this content . Maybe even ever. And despite the shit show I’m heading into, you’ve kept me grounded. I've been more myself with you this week than I am with most of the friends I've known for years."

Louis shakes his head, his sad eyes meeting Harry's. "Baby." He whispers, the word strained. "I can't. I don't know how to... I'm not..." He looks down, hesitating. He takes a slow breath, then looks back at Harry, his voice gaining strength. "I want you too."

Harry's heart gives a nervous flutter, but something shifts within him. The deep ache that had been a constant this whole week at the thought of Louis leaving, finally begins to dissolve, replaced with a fierce hope. 

Harry was falling for Louis, and he wasn't falling slowly. He had desperately wanted Louis to feel something back, but hadn’t allowed himself to hope. “You do?” He asks, still not fully believing this is happening.

A choked laugh, tinged with tears, escapes Louis. "How could I not, Harry?" He whispers, his voice thick. "You're impossibly sweet, so incredibly kind, and so fucking gorgeous that I'm afraid of going blind if I look at you for too long." Harry flushes a deep crimson, a soft laugh escaping him as he buries his face in Louis' shoulder.

"But Harry, I—“ He hesitates. "I don't know what I'm doing. I run from my problems and can barely manage to take care of myself. I can't drag you into my mess of a life."

Harry maneuvers himself until he is sitting in Louis' lap. He takes Louis' face between his palms, looking intently into his sad eyes.

"Lou." Harry says gently. "None of that is important to me. You don't need to go off on some noble quest to get your life together to prove yourself to me. You've already shown me that you're everything I want, everything I need." He kisses Louis' forehead, and a soft sob escapes Louis' lips.

"Give me a chance, Lou.” Harry pleads, his voice trembling with desperation. "Please. I want to be with you. Want to be yours." Louis' immediate nod sends a wave of relief crashing through Harry. He exhales shakily, then leans down, capturing Louis' lips in a kiss so fervent it sends shivers dancing down to his toes.

They continue pouring their feelings out with soft kisses and whispered words until they’re breathless and their eyelids grow heavy. 

"You really want me?" Louis murmurs, nestling into Harry's side, pressing himself as close as possible, ready to drift off to sleep.

"I want you, Lou. I think I have since I locked eyes with you on the ferry to France. Every part of you. The good and the bad. The rest we can figure out together." He leans down and kisses Louis' temple.

"You say that now." Louis starts. "But you haven't seen how moody I get when I'm woken up too early, or go too long without a cigarette, or a minor inconvenience throws me into a tantrum." He jokes.

"I’ve seen you do all of those things, Louis.” Harry chuckles and Louis pokes him in the rib. “And I want you just the same." He adds through a yawn. They settle further down under the blanket, Louis curling closer into Harry's side and tangling their legs together. They leave the back hatch open, enjoying the breeze and the sounds of the crashing waves below them.

Harry's heart feels more whole than it ever has.

Chapter Text

The chirping of a nearby seabird nudges Harry from sleep. He blinks his eyes open, and instead of the expected sea-view, he finds a beady-eyed bird perched directly above him on the back seat headrest, staring down with an unsettling intensity.

Harry's mind flickers back to a conversation where Louis had confessed a minor fear of birds. The sudden realisation that the bird was in the car causes his eyes to widen with alarm. If Louis wakes up and sees it, he will surely panic. Carefully, Harry peels back the blanket and eases himself into a sitting position. He knows he has to act quickly— grab the bird, and toss it out before it starts to flap and startle Louis awake.

He keeps a wary eye on the bird, his movements slow and deliberate as he raises his hands. A quick glance down confirms that Louis is still deeply asleep.

The bird's intense gaze feels like a challenge, almost a dare to come closer. He lunges, hands seizing the creature in a swift motion. Its wings beat frantically, and a sharp shriek tears from its beak. He rolls to the edge of the car, wrestling with the flapping wings, then with a grunt, flings the bird out the hatch and into the sky. He watches as it soars away over the sea.

When he turns back and looks over at Louis, he finds him sitting up, wide eyed with a hand over his mouth. "Jesus fucking Christ." He says, dropping his hand to his chest over his heart. "Did that actually just happen, or am I still dreaming?" He questions.

Harry rakes a hand through his messy hair, then yanks the back door closed before sinking back down beside Louis. He lands heavily, a relieved laugh rumbling out as he scrubs a hand over his face. "Didn't want you to wake up and freak out." He explains, glancing up at Louis, who still looks bewildered. "Honestly, I'm more relieved it didn't decide to use us as a toilet when it flew in." He adds, his eyes darting around to confirm no such disaster has occurred on Niall’s leather seats.

Louis' eyes twinkle with affection as he looks at Harry. "My hero." He teases, his voice a warm murmur. He then swoons theatrically, closing the distance to capture Harry's lips.

It's still quite early, barely six in the morning. The sun hasn't fully risen, but a gentle golden light is already painting the sky around them.

The funeral is in four hours, held at Harry's father's property, so they need to catch the first ferry back to the mainland in order to make it on time.

"Want to take a bath in the ocean?” Harry asks as they pick at some leftover pastries from the night before.

“We'll get all salty and sandy.” Louis laughs. “Not exactly a bath then, is it?" He adds and Harry rolls his eyes.

“We're already salty and sandy." Harry says as he leans in and teasingly licks a strip up Louis' neck, tasting the saltiness on this skin from their swim last night.

Louis shivers as goosebumps erupt across his skin. "If you keep doing that, we'll never get to Naples." He says with a quiet groan.

Louis doesn’t resist for long, and they're soon enjoying a dip in the already warm water. Harry relaxes, taking in the stunning daytime view of the island. "These buildings are incredible." He remarks, his gaze sweeping over the hills, captivated by the vibrant houses in every imaginable colour.

They're standing side by side, chest deep in the water while the tiny waves gently ripple around them. Harry looks at Louis with a serious look in his eyes. "I think I want to be an architect." He declares with a hint of insecurity.

Louis turns to him, his smile like a burst of sunshine. "Love, you'd be amazing.” He says, his sincerity palpable. "Those drawings you do in your notebook are already brilliant, even for quick sketches. Think of how incredible your work could be with more time and the right materials for a proper design." Harry feels his insecurities begin to melt away at the certainty in Louis’ voice, solidifying the decision that had been whispering in Harry’s thoughts for days.

"Thanks, Lou. I've been so drawn to the beauty of the buildings everywhere we’ve been.” He says, his voice filled with newfound enthusiasm. "It was a thought I’d had early in my degree, but it didn't click as a real passion until now. I think.. I really think I could be good at this." A spark of confidence ignites within him.

Louis leans over and kisses his cheek, nodding in agreement. "I’m proud of you, Harry. Maybe I’ll find some inspiration for what I want to do while we’re on this trip, too." He says with a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. 

"You'll get there, Lou. We'll figure it out, yeah?"

~

The familiar anxieties wash over Harry the instant the ferry docks and they rejoin the mainland. But Louis is right there, a comforting presence and a protective hand. He gently rubs soothing circles on Harry's thigh as they drive, his terrible jokes a welcome distraction as Harry navigates them towards their final stop.

When the navigation system announces that they're only ten minutes from the estate, Harry pulls up into a small town where they find somewhere to grab a snack and then change into some nicer clothes.

Harry's fingers fumble uselessly with his shirt buttons, his shaking hands making the task nearly impossible. Louis steps in close, giving him a peck on the nose in an effort to make him smile as his fingers deftly work at securing each button. 

It works, but the nagging nausea in his stomach doesn’t subside, knowing how close they are to his father's estate.

"I don’t think I've ever seen you with your shirt buttoned all the way up." Louis muses with a smirk. "Not sure I like it as much, but you look very handsome."

Harry wears a loose, black long-sleeved shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, black pants, and black leather boots. He had bundled his hair into a bun to control the unruly curls, still damp from the sea water and frizzy from the wind they'd experienced at their cliffside campsite the night before. He looks at Louis and takes in his choice of outfit. 

Louis has a fitted black short sleeve shirt that he buttons to the top, black skinny jeans with a pair of white trainers. "Too casual?” He queries as he looks down at his outfit. “I didn't bring any fancy clothes. I don’t know if you're meant to wear jeans to a funeral." 

A smile graces Harry's lips as he moves closer, his fingers gently finding their way into Louis' tangled hair. He smooths the sides, pushing stray strands away from his face. "You look great." Harry says, his voice soft. "You can wear whatever you like." He shrugs, and they step out of the public restroom and back into the warmth of the sun.

They cross the road and enter a general store. Inside, they gather a selection of snacks, though Harry doubts he’ll manage to eat much. He takes a coffee, while Louis tosses a red bull onto their growing pile. They linger on a park bench outside, finishing their drinks in a brief moment of quiet before they can no longer put off the inevitable. As they turn to walk back towards the car, a vaguely familiar voice calls Harry's name from behind them.

"Harry?"

He turns to see a dark-haired man whose face he remembers instantly. "Oliver?" He questions in surprise, and before he can say anything more, he is caught in a close, almost crushing hug.

Harry's gaze flicks to Louis, who instantly stiffens at his side. Harry gives him a subtle nod before a hand slams onto his back and a wet kiss landed on his cheek. "Mate, I didn't think you'd make it.”  Oliver says, his eyes sweeping over Harry. "How are you? You've grown so much since I last saw you." Oliver chuckles warmly. "You're bloody taller than me now!"

Harry’s gaze flickers to Louis, who is openly scrutinising Oliver. "Oliver, this is.. my— uh." Harry stammers. His introduction is cut short as Louis reaches out, offering Oliver a firm handshake.

"His boyfriend." Louis finishes for him. "Louis."

Harry's eyes widen in surprise, causing his brows to lift sharply. Despite their lengthy discussion the night before, they hadn't managed to clarify the specifics of what they were now.

"It’s nice to meet you, mate." Oliver says in response, shaking Louis' hand. "I'm Oliver, Harry's cousin."

Oliver turns back to Harry with a beaming smile. "I can't believe you're here. We’ve clearly got a lot to catch up on. What's it been, five years? Six?" Harry nods, the nerves melting away slightly at the thought of having another familiar face with him today. 

"Does, uh.." Harry starts as he scratches the back of his neck nervously. "Does anyone else know who I am? That I'm coming?" He asks insecurely.

Oliver shakes his head, a slight wince crossing his face. "My mum was the only one who knew about you.” He says. "And I'm fairly sure that hasn't changed. I've been living and studying in Barcelona for the past three years. I only arrived this morning myself, and I didn't have much contact with your dad after he moved here. So, unless he decided to tell his wife and kids everything while I was away— which I doubt, I think they're still completely in the dark."

Oliver's words hit Harry like a punch. His stomach plummets, and a heavy thrumming fills his ears. "Wait." He stammers, eyes wide. "Other kids? What are you talking about?"

Oliver looks at Harry in surprise. "Jesus, I.. I thought you knew by now. Sorry, mate."

Harry is completely overwhelmed, the weight of it all causing him to feel disoriented. He stumbles back, his senses spinning, and settles heavily onto the brick fence alongside the road. In a flash, Louis is beside him, a comforting hand landing on his back.

Oliver steps closer but is careful not to crowd Harry. "Growing up I was told not to talk about them with you, or talk about you with them.” He pauses, a flicker of regret crossing his face. "Looking back, I see just how messed up that whole situation was, and I'm genuinely sorry that I'm the one breaking this to you now. I actually thought you'd already found out, and that's why you stopped talking to me, and cut contact with your dad." Oliver's voice is sincere, as he gently places a hand on Harry's shoulder.

Louis rubs up and down Harry’s spine, a gesture that helps anchor Harry. "We’ve really got to get going, Harry." Louis starts. "The funeral starts in about twenty minutes.” He adds looking up at Oliver who nods his head in agreement. "If you’ve changed your mind, that’s okay too. I'm right here by your side, baby. Okay? Whatever you decide.” 

Harry can’t answer, but he nods his head and lets Louis lead him back to the car after they part ways with Oliver. Louis automatically climbs into the drivers side and sets them off towards the vineyard. 

Their jaws drop the moment they pull up. Harry can’t help but gasp, completely overwhelmed by the sight. Acres upon acres of grapevines stretch out before them, carpeting the rolling hills. The estate is absolutely massive, with a restaurant near the entrance and numerous brick buildings farther back. A path lined with meticulously kept gardens and trees leads from the car park. In the background, Mount Vesuvius looms over the landscape.

They parked alongside the other vehicles and joined the flow of people heading towards the garden at the rear. Harry hesitates, taking in the sheer number of guests. The crowd dots the grassy expanse, while conversations unfold on the balconies above. Waiters weave through, offering refreshments as soft music drifts from strategically placed speakers.

Louis' voice is hushed as he leans in closer to Harry.. "Jesus.” He murmurs. "I reckon I'd be lucky to have ten people show up at my funeral." The attempt at humour falls flat, however, as Harry's sharp glare silences him instantly. "Sorry." Louis mumbles, the humour gone. "Not the time for jokes." He then takes Harry's hand, his grip firm, and gently guides him towards the garden.

However, Harry freezes in place, unable to make his feet move any closer when the crowd parts and a coffin is revealed. It is a shining mahogany wood with gold details, and it lays atop a white clothed table in front of several neat rows of chairs. There is an abundance of white flowers everywhere. The event could have easily been mistaken for a wedding were it not for the somber centerpiece.

"Hey." Louis says reaching up to stroke Harry's cheek. 

"I can't go in there, Lou." He replies, shaking his head, rubbing a hand through his hair and squeezing his eyes shut in panic.

"Hey, you're okay. I've got you.” He grips both of Harry’s hands in his own and squeezes gently in assurance. “We can leave whenever you want to. I promise.” Louis says softly. "But we've come this far. We might as well at least stay for this part."

Harry nods, knowing Louis is right. He’s overwhelmed, yet a strange sense of calm washes over him knowing Louis will be here, a steady hand to hold. "I really thought I'd be alright.” He admits, his voice barely a whisper. "That I didn't care about him anymore. But he's right there." He gestured weakly towards the garden. "The closest I’ve been to him in six years. It doesn't matter how much I try to convince myself that it's nothing, he was my dad and now he's gone. And the thought that I have siblings? I can't even begin to process that."

Louis pulls Harry close, offering a reassuring hug and rubbing circles on his back. Harry buries his head against Louis' shoulder, taking in his familiar and calming scent as a shield from the outside world.

"Sorry to interrupt, boys." A quiet voice comes from behind them. Harry looks up to see Oliver, now dressed in a suit and tie holding hands with a woman. "They're asking we all gather ready to start." He adds with a small smile and a comforting squeeze the Harry's arm, before he walks off with the woman.

Harry scrubs his face, taking a few deep breaths to steady himself. Louis waits patiently, allowing Harry the space he needs, before reaching for his hand. Together, they walk out to the garden.

They position themselves at the very back, deliberately keeping to themselves, not engaging with anyone. Despite this, Harry's attention is drawn to a group in the front row. All he can see is the back of their heads, but an undeniable feeling tells him they are his father's family.

The funeral director begins to speak, and with each mention of his children, Harry's body tightens with tension. A frown creases his brow as the director lauds him as a wonderful father to his daughter, Gemma, and his son, James. The words about his devotion to his wife, Michelle, only deepens his unease.

A scoff threatens to surface, a bitter reaction to the whole charade. He'd never been devoted to his wife. The truth, ugly and undeniable, was that he'd been unfaithful, fathering a child he'd kept hidden for two decades. It feels impossible for Harry to reconcile this with any image of a loving father. Given his own experience, he has to question whether his father had ever been genuinely good to any of his children.

Louis' comforting squeeze pulls Harry from his reverie just as a woman, who he presumes is Gemma, steps forward to address the crowd. She sets a notebook on the podium before her. Harry is stunned by the sight of her. She has the same green eyes he sees in his own reflection, the same dark, wavy hair, and the same dimpled cheeks. Her voice is articulate and clear as she begins to read from her notes.

She expresses her deep admiration for him, describing the irreplaceable loss and the gaping hole his sudden departure has created within their family. Her memories flow, from family holidays to his proud attendance at school recitals, father-daughter dances, and the protective stance he took when she introduced her first boyfriend. She stresses that no matter how demanding his schedule was, his family always came first.

Her words gnaw at Harry, making him feel smaller and smaller. His father had been everything a father should be, just not to him. Harry was merely an inconvenient mistake, someone his father felt obligated to acknowledge before rushing back to his real family after his business trips.

He allows a tear to fall, but it's not for the same grief-stricken reason that everyone else is crying. Gemma sobs about the loss of her loving father into her brothers shoulder when she returns to her seat, but Harry is crying for the sting of rejection he had faced. For the times he had spent alone in the too-big apartment his father rented that Harry would have to stay at when he visited him. And mostly for the financial struggles he and his mother faced, trying to get by with only meager support.

The service finishes off in a blur and the crowd disperses back towards the main building. "Are you okay, baby?" Louis whispers as he leans up and kisses Harry's cheek tenderly. 

Harry shakes his head with a frown. "Let's get the fuck out of here." He says, immediately tugging Louis back towards the car park.

They had barely reached the front of the vineyard when a voice calls out. "Harry?" He turns sharply, and his eyes landing on his sister. Surprise quickly morphs into a confused frown, and he moves towards her with slow, cautious steps.

"You— you know who I am?" He asks quietly, unsure about how this is going to play out.
Instead of answering with words, she offers a soft smile, moving closer and pulling him into a comforting hug.

His eyes widen in shock, and he’s unable to react to her embrace. He glances at Louis who seems equally as stunned. Harry can see over Gemma's shoulder as someone else approaches, and Gemma releases him and turns, reaching out to wrap her arm around a man Harry assumes is James.

"I'm Gemma.” She says kindly, then turns to the other man. “And this is my brother James. Well, our brother James." Harry can't quite believe this is happening. He hears Louis introduce himself quietly to the pair with a wave, but his ears ring as he tries to wrap his head around it all. He doesn't know what to say. They know about him.

"How.. How do you know about me?" He stammers, his voice laced with shock. Gemma, unfazed, gestures towards the building, suggesting they escape the scorching sun. They follow her inside, ascending the stairs to what appears to be an office, where they settle onto the couches.

She sits in an armchair and faces Harry. "We came across our fathers will when we were going through his paperwork after he died. I had my suspicions about your existence for a while now when I found a photo of the two of you from a few years back. It had your name written on it.”

Harry frowns at the thought of his dad keeping a photo of him in his house, where anyone could have found it. Why would he have risked that?

"It was all confirmed when our family lawyer was going over the will with us. The estate was passed over to our mother and a trust fund had been left in the names of his three children. We thought there was a mistake until our aunt Sarah confirmed to us that you existed and that you were very much not a mistake. She told us everything. How she knew about you and used to take care of you. She regrets keeping his secret, but we’re glad to know now.” 

"I don't want his money." Harry says firmly, shaking his head rapidly. "That's not why I came here, I don't want anything from him."

Gemma shakes her head with a smile. "We didn't think that, Harry." She reaches across and rests her hand on Harry's. "We don't blame you for what happened. Obviously you didn't ask to be born under these circumstances. Our mother was furious, of course, but I think deep down she knew he was being unfaithful."

James, who had been letting his sister do all the talking, finally chimes in. "We’d been wondering, too.” He begins. "If there could be even more kids out there that he doesn't even know about."

The reality of having two siblings was too much for Harry to wrap his head around, but the possibility of more, made him feel dizzy. "This is all really overwhelming. I'm— I just need a minute, sorry." Harry says as he stands up abruptly and flees the room, rushing down the stairs and back into the open air.

He barely manages a few steps when his name echoes again. He fights the urge to roll his eyes in frustration, turning to see his Aunt Sarah rapidly approaching. Before he can react, she engulfs him in a tight hug, peppering his cheeks with enthusiastic kisses.

He melts into the hug, feeling immediately at ease in her arms. This is the same woman that used to read him bedtime stories, comfort him when he was hurt or scared, and baked cookies with him to take home to his mother.

"My darling boy, how are you?" She murmurs into his shoulder before drawing back to study his face. A few new lines grace her features, but her beauty remains untouched. She looks remarkably like Oliver— the same dark hair, warm honey-brown eyes, and a heart overflowing with kindness.

"I've been better." He shrugs with a dry, humourless laugh. "So far today I've seen my dad in a coffin, found out I had two siblings—" Her expression crumples with a wince and an apologetic shake of her head 

"I'm so sorry, love. I promised your dad that we would keep your life and their lives separate. He was so ashamed of what he did—" She’s quick to correct herself. "Not of you.” She states firmly. “Obviously. Or your mother, she's a lovely lady. But he couldn't stand the thought of destroying his family, so he chose to do whatever he could to keep it— you , a secret."

She takes his hand when she sees the tears pooling in his eyes, and continues. "It wasn't fair to you. Or Gemma and James. I know that, and I'm very sorry. But it wasn't my secret to share."

Harry isn't mad at her, he really isn’t. He understands, to some degree. Besides, what’s done is done. He's just not sure how to move forward from here. Does he seek out some sort of relationship with his siblings now that he knows they exist? Or does he sever all ties and go back to his mother and his life as before? And the money— He can't even think about all of that. He genuinely doesn't want it, but then again, it would be selfish of him to reject what is rightfully owed to him, and what it could mean for him and his mum.

A gentle hand on his lower back pulls him from his thoughts. He turns to see Louis, and his body seems to melt at his presence. 

"Alright, love?" He asks, his gaze shifting to Sarah. Harry nods, quickly introducing them, but his patience has already worn thin and he is ready to leave. He offers Sarah a final, lingering hug, not knowing if he’ll be seeing her again. Louis then takes Harry's hand, gently guiding him back toward the car. Louis opens the door for him, and just as Harry is about to climb in, he hears the crunch of footsteps approaching on the gravel behind them.

"Harry, please wait." Gemma says, jogging towards the car. "I know this is all really overwhelming for you.” She starts. “Us, too. But— we really would like to know you. I heard you live in London? James actually does too, and I'm there quite often visiting him and friends of mine." Harry looks at his sister and despite his uncertainty, he finds himself nodding his head. 

“I think I'd like that too, Gemma. I just— I might need some time, yeah? Just to get my head around it all.”

"Of course." She agrees, her smile bright. A smile he knows well, a familiar curve that both soothes him and stirs a strange unease. He realises that it’s a mirror of his own— a smile they'd both inherited from their father.

"I know it's a lot with everyone here today. We're having a quiet family breakfast in the main house tomorrow at nine, and we'd be really happy if you could both join us. It would mean a lot to our mother and grandparents to meet you both."

Harry's brow creases at the mention of all these relatives. He was always aware, on some level, that he likely had grandparents from his father's side. But he actively avoided thinking about them, knowing that he would never be truly welcomed into their family.

"Think about it, okay?" She says softly, clearly sensing his hesitation. She grasps his hand and squeezes gently before turning and walking back to the estate.

Harry climbs into his seat and Louis jumps in the driver's side and starts the car. He turns to face Harry, immediately grabbing his hand and running his thumb over his knuckles.

"Harry?" He asks low and careful. "Where do you want to go? I can arrange somewhere to stay nearby? Or we can just start driving back towards London right now. I can drive non-stop until you're back home if that's what you need?"

Harry offers Louis a gentle smile. "I think— I don't want to make any decisions right now. Could we maybe stay nearby and I can decide what I want to do in the morning?" He asks hesitantly and Louis is nodding in agreement right away. Harry relaxes as Louis pulls out of the car park, leading them towards the city.

~

The second they enter the hotel room, Harry crumples onto the bed, a wave of sobs shaking his body. He feels overwhelmed with emotion after trying to keep it held in all week, and the floodgates have finally opened.

Louis quickly drops their bags and rushes to Harry, pulling him into his arms and sinking back onto the bed with him. Harry cries until he’s spent, all the while Louis soothes him with gentle rubs on his back, fingers through his hair and calm words whispered into his ear.

When he settles down to just a few lingering wet hiccups, he manages to push himself up. His head throbs heavily, and a wave of exhaustion washes over him. He feels like he could sleep for days. It's late afternoon now, and he realises that the emptiness in his stomach is because he has barely eaten all day.

"Are you hungry, darling?" Louis asks, his eyes scanning a pizza menu, seemingly able to see Harry’s thoughts.

"I'm starving, actually." Harry laughs.

"We absolutely have to get some authentic Neapolitan pizza while we're here." Louis says, a grin spreading across his face. "I noticed a restaurant just down the street on our way in."

Harry groans, a small pout forming on his lips. "I don't want to go out. I’m so tired, Lou." Harry says with a yawn. 

"Don't worry, love, I'll grab it." Louis says gently. "Why don't you hop in the shower and then relax on the balcony? Listening to the ocean might help." Harry nods, leaning over and pressing a kiss to Louis' lips. It amazes Harry how Louis always seems to understand exactly what he needs, even before Harry does.

Louis heads out a moment later and Harry takes a long, hot shower. When he walks out to the balcony, he's stunned by the view. Having been too upset to give the hotel room a second glance, he's finally noticing where they are. The hotel is right on the edge of a cliff giving their room a perfect view of the sea and the city along the coast. The sun is just starting to set as he sits down and breathes deeply, taking in the salty air.

Overwhelmed by his racing thoughts, he instinctively does the only thing he can think of. He calls his mum. "Mum?" He says, his voice shaky as she immediately answers.

“Oh, love. I've been waiting to hear from you. How did today go, darling?' She asks with a gentle voice and Harry feels instantly comforted.

He fills her in on his trip so far, including details about Louis. She's overjoyed for him. He'd been concerned she might think he was moving too fast, but she proves to be completely supportive.

He finally confides in her about the funeral, and about his siblings, and the family. She's not entirely surprised, but he can tell in her voice that she's hurt by the fact that she was left in the dirt while Harry’s father had been so devoted to his real family.

She reassures him that he shouldn't feel obligated to do anything that makes him uncomfortable. However, she gently suggests that since they are his family, he should maybe consider giving them a chance, even if it's not immediately.

By the time he's finishing with the call, Louis is walking back through the door. Harry tells his mum goodbye and promises to call her again soon. He doesn't realise he's been crying until he pulls the phone away and the screen is damp with tears.

"Oh, baby." Louis gently says while stepping out onto the balcony. He carefully places the food bags on the table and then takes a seat on Harry's lap. He then affectionately nuzzles against Harry's neck, planting tender kisses on his skin while he soothingly strokes his thumb over Harry's cheek, gently wiping away any moisture.

Harry exhales deeply at the feeling, melting into Louis’ touch. 

"Who was on the phone?" Louis asks, leaning closer and kissing Harry's nose.

"My mum. I called her to fill her in on today and the trip.” Harry says, then looks at Louis with a hint of nervousness. “I told her about you, too." He says, and he feels Louis tense slightly.

"You did? What did she say?" He asks hesitantly. 

“She told me that she's really happy for me. And that she can't wait to meet you." Harry replies with a kiss to the skin of Louis' throat, trying to ease his worries. 

Surprise flickers across Louis' face as he pulls back. Harry presses on. "She'd call me out if she thought I was being stupid. She knows I tend to fall hard and fast, often for the wrong people. I explained that this is different, that I've never felt this way, and she fully supports me."

The tension eases from Louis' posture as Harry's words register. It had been a while since Harry had felt confident enough to bring someone home to meet his mother. Mia had consistently avoided it with various excuses. Now, he is practically bursting with impatience to show Louis off to her.

After finishing their pizza, they head inside. Louis brings out a tub of gelato, and they share it in bed while watching reruns of Friends . When Harry gets too sleepy to stay awake, he snuggles down into the blankets, with Louis following close behind, wrapping him in a protective embrace.

Louis' fingers absently trace patterns through Harry's hair, a soothing rhythm that is almost enough to lull him to sleep. Just as Harry is about to succumb, he shifts in Louis' embrace, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "I didn't thank you for today." He murmurs, his voice low and gentle. "And yesterday, too. You've been amazing, Lou. Really, really amazing." A warm smile spreads across Louis' face as he returns the affection, kissing Harry's shoulder before tilting his chin and gently nuzzling along his neck.

"Of course, darling.” Louis whispers. “Anything for you. I'll do whatever I can to make you happy, Harry." Louis whispers before he kisses him softly.

They're silent for a few minutes before Harry smiles widely, suddenly remembering something. "You called me your boyfriend." He says quietly.
He feels Louis grin against his neck. 

"I did." Louis says, his tone casual, as if it were nothing momentous. Harry huffs out a laugh, still a bit disbelieving. "Was that okay?" Louis asks, and Harry nods immediately, without hesitation.

"Yeah. I really like being your boyfriend."

Chapter Text

Louis’ lips are the first thing Harry feels upon waking, a warm, gentle pressure against his neck. Kisses trail up his throat, sending a shiver of pleasure through him. A contented sigh escapes his lips as his eyes flutter open. "I could get used to this." He murmurs, his voice low and rough with sleep, tilting his head to offer Louis more of his exposed skin.

"God.” Louis rasps. “You sound so sexy in the morning, baby." His breath fans against Harry’s skin before he’s biting down gently where Harry’s neck meets his shoulder.

Harry’s mind is still hazy from sleep, his limbs languid and boneless as he melts back into the softness of the sheets.

"You're just.. all my fantasies come true.” Louis murmurs, a needy groan escaping him. Harry laughs, a light, teasing sound that dies in his throat when Louis' hand finds his thigh, its touch tracing the outline of his cock.

Harry arches into his touch, arousal swimming through his veins like warm syrup. 

"Well, good morning." Louis teases as he toys with Harry's waistband, his fingertips dipping low. Harry’s skin tingles under Louis' teasing touch.

"What do you expect?" Harry gasps, his voice catching. "Waking me up with your lips on my neck." A breathy sound escapes him, and he's already starting to feel the heat unfurl. He shifts restlessly, trying to press his hips against something, anything, but Louis’ hand moves away, leaving him wanting.

"Don't tease me, Lou." Harry warns, his voice strained. Louis shifts back, propping his head on his hand and looking down at him with an amused smirk. Harry's desperation is clear in his eyes, and he knows Louis has caught it.

The heat of his arousal curdles into frustration, and he collapses against the pillow with a frustrated huff. "Cock tease." Harry mutters before he heaves himself out of bed. Louis tries to snag his wrist, but Harry is too quick, already darting across the room and into the bathroom.

"I guess I'll have to handle it myself." He says over his shoulder, slipping his boxers off when he reaches the doorway and flicking them back at Louis.

"Don't you fucking dare! ” Louis gasps as he leaps from the bed and rushes across the room. Harry is faster though and slams the door, clicking the lock just as Louis reaches the handle.

"Maybe you'll think twice before teasing me next time." Harry's smug voice carries through the bathroom door. He turns on the shower, the spray quickly filling the space, and steps inside. He ignores Louis' frantic pounding against the wood, his hand already lowering to caress his cock. He leans against the cool tiles, one hand braced for balance, as he begins to slowly stroke himself.

Harry never held back during sex, and he isn’t about to start now. Every sound he makes is for Louis. Every moan, every breath, is intentionally loud, and the thought of Louis on the other side of the door, forced to listen, fuels his pleasure with an intensity that is almost unbearable.

The impact of his orgasm has him physically shaking, a ragged moan escaping him. His legs quiver as he collapses back against the tiles to keep himself upright.

He remains motionless, drawing in the humid air until his breathing steadies. He then takes his time under the warm spray, washing his hair, brushing his teeth, and shaving. Finally, with a towel low on his hips, he unlocks the door.

When he walks back into the room, Louis is slumped half on the bed with his feet still planted on the floor, his face hidden in his hands. Harry can’t help but notice the obvious bulge tenting his sweatpants.

"Is something wrong?" Harry asks with a smug grin, rummaging through his bag to find some clothes for the day. 

Louis glares up at him. "You're a right fucking brat." He grumbles. "You're gonna regret that, you just wait."

Harry feels a distinct twitch beneath his towel at the suggestion of being punished. He knows that is a thought he will have to revisit later, but for now he just laughs under his breath, not wanting Louis to realise the impact that comment has on him. He lets his towel drop to the floor, giving Louis a clear view of his naked body, still damp, before pulling on some clean boxers.

Louis lets out a deep, mournful groan, his shoulders slumping as he makes his way to the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind him.

~

"You're sure about this?" Louis asks as they pull up to the vineyard for the second time in twenty four hours.

"Yeah.” He says with a faux determination. “Let’s just get it over with, yeah?" He shrugs, taking his seatbelt off. They walk through the main building where there's a woman at a reception desk waiting to greet them.

"Hello. How can I help you?" She asks with a cheerful smile.

"Uh, I'm here to see Gemma? I'm meeting her for breakfast."

"Of course, sir. You must be Harry?" Harry nods and the woman stands up and walks to the front of the desk to shake his hand. "I'm Tanya, Gemma said she was expecting you. Follow me, please."

Her heels click against the marble tiles as they’re led through the winding halls of the main building, down a paved garden and towards another tall building. "This is the main house where the family lives. Just knock on the door there, and a housekeeper will take you in.”

They thank her and follow the rest of the path towards the house. Harry reaches for Louis' hand to calm his nerves, and Louis squeezes back in silent support. "Remember that we can leave whenever you want, okay? Just say the word and  I'll get you out." Louis whispers and Harry nods, looking back at the door like it's the door to his demise. With a deep breath, he knocks.

The door bursts open and James' face lights up. "You came!" He exclaims, then immediately pulls Harry into a hug. Caught off guard, Harry doesn't react, his arms remaining awkwardly at his sides. James then envelops Louis in the embrace as well, who stiffens just like Harry had.

"Come on through. There's only a few of us today." He says with an enthusiastic smile and leads them through the house. The word house feels inadequate. Mansion maybe, or even palace. Either way, its sheer size is undeniable. 

They enter a dining room that is bigger than Harry’s mother's entire house. An enormous banquet table, laden with food, stretches down the centre of the room, luscious floral centrepieces down the middle. A buzz of conversation fills the air, and Harry spots Gemma right away chatting animatedly with a woman he recognises from the funeral as their mother. His aunt Sarah is perched on an armchair drinking a cup of tea, and Oliver is standing by a window, conversing with an older couple.

Harry swallows hard, his throat tight with anxiety. He squeezes Louis' hand, his grip bordering on painful as he desperately tries to anchor himself. Just then, James’ booming clap shatters through the room, his shout echoing across the space and drawing every eye. Harry cringes inwardly.

"Everyone, this is Harry, and Louis." Turning back to Harry, he begins the introductions. "You already know Aunt Sarah and Oliver. You met Gemma and me yesterday, and this—" He gestures to the woman beside him, gently guiding her forward. “Is our mother, Michelle." Harry watches Michelle cautiously, unsure of her reaction. Just like Gemma had the day before, Michelle steps forward and wraps her arms around him, kissing his cheek and smiling brightly.

"Harry, dear.” She says, her voice warm and welcoming. "It's so wonderful to meet you. Welcome to our home." The sincerity in her tone begins to melt away Harry's nerves.

It’s immediately apparent to him that while Gemma and Harry inherited traits from their father, James evidently gets his genetics from his mother's side.

She was the embodiment of classic elegance. Dark hair neatly secured in a low bun, naturally perfect makeup, and a dress Harry immediately identifies as Gucci.

"Come." She instructs, linking her arm through his and guiding him toward the table. "Breakfast is about to be served." She indicates a seat, and he and Louis sit down together. Gemma is seated opposite him, with Oliver beside her. James takes the seat on Harry's other side, and Michelle settles at the head of the table.

Sarah, along with an older couple Harry had not yet been introduced to, sat on the opposite side with Gemma and Oliver.

"Harry." The older gentleman announces, clapping his hands together. "It's very nice to meet you. What a wonderful surprise to discover we have another grandson." He offers Harry a polite smile, but he can see a stiffness around his mouth, a forced quality to the gesture. Beside him, the older woman reaches under the table and gives the man’s leg a gentle Pat before turning to Harry, her smile warm and genuine.

"It's very nice to meet you, dear." She says with sincerity. "If you haven't already worked it out, we are your fathers parents. I'm Evelyn and this is my husband Charlie.” A hint of strain enters her voice. “You can imagine we're all a little overwhelmed after the week we have had." Harry nods in understanding, unable to comprehend how hard this all must be on them. "I think it will take us all a little time to process everything," she adds softly.

They are all grieving the loss of their son, husband, and father. Now, unexpectedly, they must also accept a new family member they were unaware of until just yesterday.

Questions flew around the room, all aimed at Harry, who politely answers each one. Louis' hand on Harry's thigh remains a comforting anchor, grounding him as the guests make small talk, enjoying pastries, fruits, and tea as they all get acquainted.

Harry's voice cuts through the conversation, turning in his chair to face the end of the table.  "Michelle." He begins. "I really love your dress." He gestures towards her outfit. A warm smile blooms on Michelle's face at the compliment, her cheeks flushing slightly. Harry continues. "I was in Rome recently and popped into the Gucci boutique, and I saw it featured in their upcoming campaign. I didn't realise it had even been released yet?"

"Ah, you're incredibly knowledgeable!" She says with a delighted tone, sipping her tea. "Alessandro Michele is an old friend." Harry's eyes fly open in sheer amazement. "He gifted me this dress for my birthday last month. I'll have to introduce you.”  She adds, and Harry chokes on his tea. He just nods, utterly speechless at the thought of meeting the designer of his favourite label. A brand he's admired for years from afar but could never dream of affording.

Once the breakfast plates have been cleared, Harry takes a moment to glance around the table. He sees Louis gesturing excitedly to Oliver as they debate a recent football match. Gemma and Michelle are huddled together, heads bent over a quiet discussion about the vineyard. The others at the table were happily chatting amongst themselves. It didn’t just look like family. It felt like it, too.

James turns to Harry and claps a hand on his shoulder, leaning in close. "What do you think, mate? We're not so bad, right?" He asks and Harry looks at him with a smile.

"I think you're all wonderful. I was worried about what everyone would think of me but this—" He gestures over the table. "You've all made me feel really welcomed. So, thank you." He says sincerely and James’ eyes crinkle in a beaming smile.

"I've always wanted a brother." James says in response, slinging an arm over Harry’s shoulder making Harry laugh. 

"Me too."

~

They say their goodbyes in a flurry of hugs and handshakes, and then they’re back on the road. They sit in silence as Louis navigates them away from the estate, soft music gently floating through the car. Harry rests his head on the window and watches the trees pass by, his exhaustion palpable.

"You okay, love?" Louis asks gently, rubbing his hand across Harry's knee. 

Harry looks up with a tired smile and nods his head. "Yeah. It's just been a lot." He says quietly. Louis nods in understanding. “Thanks for being there with me.” He adds. “I couldn't have gotten through any of this without you keeping me together." Harry says, looking at Louis and admiring his side profile as he drives.

"Of course, my darling." Louis replies softly. "I'm proud of how well you’ve handled everything. I'm really happy it all worked out so well in the end."

"Me too." Harry replies, his voice sincere. Though he'd been plagued by doubt, today has proved that if he wants a relationship with his family, the possibility isn’t out of reach. 

“Do you think you’ll keep in touch with them?" Louis asks and Harry nods his head.

"I think so, yeah. I mean— James lives in London, it's completely possible that we've already crossed paths at some point." He huffs a small laugh. "It makes sense to at least try and be friends." He adds and Louis smiles at him before focusing back on the road.

"Okay. So, what did you have planned for the trip back? We haven’t really discussed it because I'm meant to be roughing it across the other side of Europe by now."

Harry's lips turn down in a pout at Louis' joke, his mind immediately drifting to the unsettling thought that Louis had nearly slipped through his fingers.

"Please don’t pout, baby.” Louis teases. “Or I'm going to have to pull over and kiss you and I’m not sure this road has a safe spot to pull up."

Harry's pout gives way to a smile and Louis lifts his hand for a soft kiss.

Harry clears his throat, his stomach doing nervous flip-flops as Louis' hand remains warm and firm over his. "Florence again today. I've booked a room for the night." He explains. "The original plan was the scenic route back— Milan, Geneva, a few nights in Paris before returning to London. Then, I was meant to be at my mum's for the rest of the summer until school starts."

Louis nods, a faint frown creasing his forehead. Harry watches him, and wonders what’s going on in his mind. Louis has been vague about his plans once they return, avoiding any discussion of his future now that he’s decided to go back to London. Harry doesn’t even know where he plans to live, or whether he'll even return to school, perhaps to pursue a different path altogether.

Harry doesn’t want to presume— it has only been a little over a week since they met, but he wants to be included in Louis’ plans. He wants to continue building their relationship and giving it a real go. He’s never felt this way before, and even though a flicker of anxiety creeps in at the thought of returning to reality and what it will mean for them, the excitement for the future runs through him.

Eventually, exhaustion pulls Harry under, and he wakes only when the car lurches to a halt. He peers out his window and sees they’ve arrived at their hotel, and the building's quaint facade instantly lifts his spirits.

Unloading their bags, Louis thanks the man in Italian as they are shown to their room. Harry, eager to see the view, immediately heads for the window. It opens onto a small balcony furnished with a little table and chairs, overlooking the charming street below.

"Want to go get some food?" Louis asks, rubbing his stomach. "I'm starving."

"You're always starving." Harry retorts and Louis tosses a pillow at him, but doesn’t disagree. 

They make their way outside and stroll down the street hand in hand. Harry feels lighter, the huge weight lifted off his shoulders now that the hardest part of this trip is over. He feels like he can relax for the remaining days before they're back to real life.

They decide on a cafe and take a seat outside in the afternoon sun, settling down to read the menus when Harry's phone rings. He frowns when he doesn't recognise the number, but answers anyway.

"Hello?"

“Hi, Harry. It’s Gemma.”

"Oh. Hi, Gemma." He replies, brows furrowed in slight confusion. He hadn't given out his number.

“You’re probably wondering how I got your number?” She laughs and he briefly wonders if she can read his mind. Like some kind of sibling power.

“Actually, I was.” He laughs.

“I won’t keep you long.” She barrels on. “But I forgot to grab it from you before you left this morning, so our lawyer tracked down your details for the trust fund transfer. That's actually what I'm calling about. I'm sorting the transfer now but I just need your banking details to arrange it.”

Harry tenses. He had already pushed aside the thought of being included in his fathers will. The idea of it makes him incredibly uncomfortable.

"Gemma, I told you before— I'm not interested in any money. I—"

“Harry, it's all organised. The legal documents are finalised. These were his wishes and you're completely at your right to do as you wish with the money. Hell, give it all away if you like. But it's yours .”

Harry realises that fighting with her about it would be futile. He’s already noticed that she's quite stubborn. With a defeated sigh, he rattles off his account details. She assures him of an immediate transfer and that the funds would appear shortly. With that, she bids him farewell and promises to stay in touch.

They order their food and when Harry’s strong coffee is set down in front of him, he pulls out his notebook and sits back in his seat to take in the neighbourhood. It's full of old, classic buildings, charming storefronts in pastel colours, flowers decorating the windows and shady trees lining the road. He sketches as he sips his coffee, Louis sitting back and quietly admiring him as he does.

They sit in complete silence for at least an hour as Harry gets lost in his drawings. He's eventually brought back to reality when his phone beeps several times in a row against the table. Taking a sip of his now cold coffee, he picks it up, immediately choking and spluttering the drink as he looks over the notifications.

The first one is a text from Gemma. 

Your inheritance transfer has been completed. Enjoy!

The next is a notification from his bank, confirming a deposit of 3.7 million pounds .

And the third is a message from his mum letting him know that her air conditioning just went out where she proceeds to go on a rant about how unusually warm it is and how she's suffering through the heat.

Harry can't help but laugh at the irony. Louis is staring at him questioningly as Harry shoots off a text to his mum, telling her to get it fixed and that he will sort the bill when he gets home.

"What was that all about?" Louis asks, chewing on his sandwich.

“Oh, nothing much." He waves a hand dismissively. "Just had 3.7 million pounds deposited into my account." He punctuates the nonchalant statement with a shrug, as if discussing the weather.

Suddenly, Louis starts choking. He clutches at his chest, gasping as he coughs up the bread he'd accidentally inhaled. Harry leans over and pats him on the back in concern.

"Jesus Christ, Harry. What?!" He yells once he regains his ability to breathe.

"I know. I think I'm in shock.” He laughs. “But at least I can get mum's air conditioner fixed." He shrugs. "Hell, I could just buy her an entire new house with an air conditioner in every room."

Louis stares at him wide eyed. "What are you going to do with it?" He asks and Harry shakes his head.

"I have absolutely no idea. I'm going to pretend it's not there, and figure it out once I get back and talk with mum about it." 

Louis nods in agreement before sitting back in his chair.

"Or—“ Harry continues. “Maybe I could use it to splurge on a fancy hotel suite once we get to Paris." He smiles, wiggling his eyebrows. "Pay you back for spoiling me in Rome."

"Harry, you really don't need to do that. Please, use this money wisely. It has the potential to set up your entire future. You deserve it, after everything your father put you through." Louis says, his voice earnest with sincerity.

"Then tell me, what do you deserve?" Harry insists. "After everything your parents put you through? You didn't deserve to be left with nothing." Harry speaks with conviction, yet Louis shakes his head, a sad smile on his face.

"Who knows. Maybe when they die they'll surprise me with a cut of their fortune. But I don’t need it." He shrugs.

Without hesitation , Harry pulls out his phone and upgrades his hotel booking for when they get to Paris. They both deserve to be a little spoiled.  

~

They head back to their hotel just as the sky begins to darken. Louis collapses into bed with a yawn, but Harry grabs his hand and pulls him back up to sit. "Come shower with me?" He asks innocently, fluttering his lashes.

“I will." Louis replies. "But don't think you're getting anything after the stunt you pulled this morning." He says pointedly, and Harry rolls his eyes, pulling Louis to stand. 

They strip off their clothes and make their way to the bathroom. Louis turns on the shower and climbs in. Harry, lagging behind, watches him naked under the steaming water, a slight pout pulling at his lips.

"Your pout isn't gonna work this time, babe. I told you you'd regret it, didn't I?" Louis says teasingly, tilting his head back and wetting his hair.

Soaping himself in the corner, Harry huffs and scowls. He deliberately avoids looking at Louis, who seems determined to flaunt as he washes himself, casting glances in Harry's direction to ensure he can see what he’s missing.

Harry feels a flush of heat as he starts to get hard. He desperately tries to ignore it, especially as Louis begins to explore his own body, grasping himself, his soapy hands moving rhythmically.

Harry shuts his eyes and leans his weight against the shower wall, the back of his head knocking against the tile with a muffled thud and a frustrated grunt.

"Something wrong, Harry?" Louis asks, voice low and breathy.

"I'm sorry, okay?” Harry concedes. “You've made your point." He steps towards Louis and gives him his best puppy dog eyes. "Please let me touch you?" He asks, jutting his lower lip out slightly.

Louis tilts his head, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Why should I? You were so quick to leave me this morning. So eager to take care of yourself instead of having a little patience. Maybe I’ll just do the same while you watch in the corner like a bad boy."

Harry shakes his head, eyes wide. "No! I'm sorry, Lou. Please . I'll do whatever you want. Anything."

Louis' hand pauses, still wrapped around himself. He meets Harry's gaze, a smirk playing on his lips. Harry's heart leaps in anticipation. "Anything?" Louis murmurs, closing the distance between them. He trails a finger down Harry's chest, a deliberate path towards his straining cock. Harry nods eagerly, reaching for Louis, only to have his hand swatted away.

"Get on your knees." Louis commands. Harry's breath catches, his eyes widening momentarily. Without hesitation, he lowers himself to the tile floor, positioning himself at Louis’ feet. He keeps his hands clasped in his lap to avoid reaching out, and waits for further instruction, his gaze fixed on Louis.

"Jesus." Louis breathes out. "You look so pretty on your knees, baby." He coos, reaching out to stroke Harry's cheek. He trails his finger along his jaw before grasping his chin. "I’m gonna fuck your mouth. Is that okay with you?" He rasps and Harry's stomach flips. 

He's so turned on just at the sound of Louis' rough voice and his commanding presence. Harry nods instantly, and Louis pulls his mouth open and lines himself up.

"Smack my leg if you need me to stop, okay?" He says before sliding himself between Harry’s lips. .

Louis lets out a choked moan and thrusts forward, fucking into Harry's mouth. Harry does his best to relax his jaw, breathing deeply through his nose to suppress a gag as Louis starts to hit the back of his throat. Harry risks a glance upward, and the sight of Louis using him for his own pleasure threatens to unravel him.

Harry instinctively reaches for himself, an attempt to soothe the building ache. "Don't!" Louis' voice snaps with a fierce urgency. The command stops Harry mid-air, a jolt of surprise and something else— a thrill he didn't expect, runs through him.

He groans in frustration, instead grabbing his own thighs tightly as Louis continues to work himself closer to the edge. His knees and jaw are aching and he has tears prickling his eyes from the pressure, but he's so lost in Louis, he doesn't care. Arousal courses through his veins as he looks up and almost comes just from the sight of him. He’s already looking down, watching himself slide in and out of Harry's mouth. Water streams from his soaked hair, slicking against his skin and dripping down his chest. His mouth hangs slightly open, releasing small, breathy sounds of pleasure.

Louis' hand clamps onto the side of Harry's neck, a possessive grip that seems to steady him. The pressure of his thumb against Harry's throat sends a dizzying wave of euphoria through him, a sensation more intense than any drug.

" Fuck .” Louis moans, rough and desperate, his thrusts becoming sloppy. “Baby, I'm so close." He grits out, moving his hand to tangle in Harry's hair before tugging hard. Harry moans at the painful pleasure, and Louis is immediately coming down his throat.

Harry is so turned on by the sounds Louis makes, the taste of him on his tongue and the thrilling sting of Louis pulling his hair that a wave of intense pleasure washes over him, his body tightening and then shuddering as he spills against his thigh, completely untouched leaving him trembling on the floor. 

Louis pulls back, then gently wipes away a few stray tears from Harry's cheeks. He then glances down, noticing the evidence of Harry's release trailing down his leg.

"Fucking hell." He whispers, eyes widening in surprise as the come trails down Harry’s leg and drips onto the floor. He runs his thumb over Harry's bottom lip reverently, then tugs on it gently.

Harry struggles to his feet, his legs shaky. He grips Louis' thighs for support, bracing himself with a hand against the wall beside Louis' head to maintain his balance.

Louis pulls Harry close, their slick skin sliding together. Harry dips his head to press a wet, eager kiss to Louis' mouth, then leans in further, deepening the kiss until they're both breathless and have to pull apart, sighing contentedly.

“Are you okay, darling? Was I too rough?” Louis asks, concern flickering in his eyes as he checks over Harry’s face.

Harry's voice cracks when he speaks. "I'm okay." He offers Louis a dazed smile, then leans in for another kiss, trying to soothe away the worry etched on his face.

"You're so perfect, baby." Louis murmurs, his breath ghosting over Harry’s lips. Harry's heart does backflips in his chest. 

He cups Louis' face in his hands and draws him in for a soft kiss, before resting their foreheads together. "You are." He breathes against his mouth, both of them smiling softly at each other. 

"Ah, shit!" Louis suddenly yelps, jumping forward from the shower stream, instinctively pulling Harry with him. A fit of laughter erupts between them as they scramble to turn the faucet off and escape the freezing downpour, quickly grabbing towels to dry off.

Completely spent, they change into boxers and tumble onto the bed. They leave the balcony door open, the gentle, warm air floating over their flushed skin. "Hopefully we won't wake up to a bird in the bed with us again." Harry jokes and Louis bursts out a laugh. 

“I still can't believe that actually happened. You saved my life, Harry." Louis kisses him and then snuggles close, tucking himself against Harry's side.

Sleep begins to claim them, and with a soft sigh, Harry relaxes under Louis' gentle touch. A few minutes pass in comfortable silence before Harry looks down, a smile playing on his lips as he sees Louis nestled on his chest. Hesitantly, he whispers. "Lou?" Unsure if Louis is still awake.

Harry just gets a sleepy hum in response.

He leans down and presses a kiss to the top of Louis' head. "I'm so fucking glad I met you."

He feels Louis smile against his skin. "Me too, darling." He says before pressing a kiss to Harry’s shoulder.

A smile plays on Harry's lips as he drifts off to sleep, sure it will still be there when he wakes in the morning.

Chapter Text

"Ahhhh!" Louis’ scream rips through Harry’s peaceful dream, a loud thud following immediately after. He jolts upright instantly and throws the covers off, standing up from the bed. He pauses, needing to grasp the wall as a head rush washes over him from standing up far too quickly.

When his hazy vision clears, he finds Louis walking back into the room from the balcony door, wide eyed and like he's just seen a ghost.

"Fucking hell." Harry breathes, clutching a hand over his chest. "What the hell are you screaming about?” He asks, a look of concern flooding his features.

Louis steps closer and slaps Harry’s phone down into his palm. A surge of panic runs through his veins as he immediately thinks something terrible must have happened. Quickly unlocking his phone, he glances down at the screen and sees what has gotten Louis so freaked out.

A burst of laughter erupts from him, doubling him over as relief washes through his body. "Holy shit, Louis!" He chokes out between breaths. "You woke me up in a panic over this ?" He wipes a tear from his eye, still chuckling. Louis, however, looks entirely unimpressed.

"It scared me, okay!" He shrieks, panic still clear in his voice. "I haven't seen one of those in years! And it was the absolute last thing I expected to see when I looked at your phone."

Harry calms himself as he closes the message from Mia— a photo of her, completely naked and sprawled on her bed with her legs wide open. He tosses the phone down into the sheets and sits at the edge of the bed, then reaches for Louis and tugs him to stand between his legs.

"Is there a reason you were looking at my phone, Louis?" Harry asks with a faux sternness to his voice. 

Louis rolls his eyes, but places his hands against Harry’s shoulders. "Come on." He scoffs. “It’s not like I was actively searching through it. You left it on the table outside, and the thing went off while I was having a smoke. I only glanced at it, not expecting a bloody jump scare." He punctuates his explanation with an exaggerated full-body shiver, his face contorting into a grimace.

"You say I'm dramatic." Harry laughs, but it tapers off when he notices Louis’ frown. 

"Is there any reason someone is sending my boyfriend nudes at six in the morning?" Louis asks with genuine concern, his tone betraying a hint of vulnerability. Harry's face softens as he wraps his arms around Louis' waist and leans forward, resting his forehead against his stomach and pressing a kiss to his bare skin.

“She’s been messaging me non stop since I left.” Harry explains and feels Louis tense beneath his palms. “She can’t quite take the hint that I don't want to speak to her." Harry feels Louis relax as he begins to peck more soft kisses across his soft tummy and hips, gently nosing at the fine hairs below his belly button.

"So she's harassing you?" Louis asks, tilting Harry's chin up to look at him, concern in his eyes. Harry shakes his head.

"Harry, she’s been messaging you constantly for over a week and is sending unsolicited nudes. That's harassment." He's firm with his words, and Harry realises that he's not going to take this lightly.

"I'll block her number." Harry says, grabbing his phone and tapping at the screen, deleting their message thread while he’s at it. "Done.” He adds, throwing the phone back amongst the bed sheets.

Louis leans down and connects their lips. He tastes like cigarettes and orange juice and Harry rather enjoys the mix.

"Who is she anyway?" Louis asks with a hint of jealousy in his tone. 

Harry puffs out a breath, not really wanting to discuss Mia when they could be climbing back into bed and snuggling until a more reasonable hour.

"She’s my ex-girlfriend. We were together for just over a year." Louis' bottom lip juts out in silent displeasure at the answer, but Harry is quick to soothe him. He tugs Louis down onto his lap and wraps his arms possessively around him.

"She's the devil." Harry adds with a scoff, before explaining further. "She cheated on me with someone I had thought was a mate, and then broke up with me. When she realised he hadn’t actually wanted anything serious with her, she came running back to me and I let her." He says while Louis rubs at the back of his neck. 

Louis leans in and kisses Harry's nose. "I'm sorry, baby. That’s awful." He whispers comfortingly.

Harry hesitates, a flush creeping up his neck. "We’d started sleeping together again on and off. I’d told her that I didn't want her back, but she wouldn’t quit. The morning I left for summer break, I woke up to find her in my bed. I honestly have no memory of how she got there. I'd been drinking heavily the night before and blacked out." He ducks his head further in embarrassment. "I slipped out before she woke up and haven't talked to her since. But she’s never been very good at taking no for an answer.”

Louis' jaw clenches, his fingers freezing mid-caress against Harry's neck. His voice hardens as he speaks. "Babe, that sounds an awful lot like she's been taking advantage of you when you've been drinking."

A frown creases Harry's forehead as he tilts his head, considering Louis’ words. "I don't think it's that serious, Lou." He says, shaking his head dismissively, but he can tell it lacks conviction. 

"Think about it the other way around, Harry. If you were doing that to her, would you still believe it wouldn't be that serious ?”

"Maybe you're right." Harry concedes with a sigh. He’d never really looked at it like that. He'd always simply seen her as clingy, overbearing, and intrusive. He isn’t stupid, he knows they shouldn't have been sleeping together when they were both barely conscious. But at one point he had really thought he'd been in love with her. And as messed up as it sounds, part of him had actually liked it when she came crawling back. It was easier to cling to that than to remember she'd cheated on him in the first place.

“I want you to know that I will never hurt you like that, Harry. I may not have much experience with relationships, but I’ll do everything I can to prove to you that you deserve better than her, or anyone else who’s mistreated you in the past.”

Louis leans in, his lips gentle as he kisses away the furrow between Harry's eyebrows. The touch brings a smile to Harry's face, a rush of giddiness flooding him at Louis’ possessive sweetness. He breathes in Louis' scent as he nuzzles into the warmth of his neck, then playfully blows a wet raspberry against the skin, startling a surprised yelp from him.

"Oh, now you’ve gone and done it!" Louis teases with a laugh before pushing Harry back onto the bed. He climbs on top, straddling Harry's hips, and begins tickling his ribs.

"No! No! No!" Harry's voice cracked with desperation. "I give up! I'm sorry.” He gasps hysterically, the words tumbling out in surrender. Louis instantly relents, rolling to Harry’s side and then gently lowering his head to capture Harry's lips in a soft kiss.

"So—“ Harry starts once he's caught his breath, Louis cuddling into his side. "Not a fan of vaginas, then?" He asks and Louis laughs out.

"Yeah, no. Not for me." He chuckles.

"Have you ever slept with a female?" Harry adds, rubbing his hands down Louis' back.

"No, never. I had a girlfriend when I was fifteen and she said I could finger her one time, but as soon as she took her pants off I got sick to my stomach and ran out the room." Harry's laughter booms out, and he immediately slaps his palm across his mouth, trying to stifle the noise for the sake of the sleeping guests in the hotel.

"Lou! That's awful!" He gasps, still unable to stop his shoulders shaking with laughter.

"I felt terrible, don't worry. She dumped me the next day and started a rumour round the school that I was gay. Jokes on her I guess, because she ended up being right, and it was her that made me realise it."

Their laughter settles down and Harry feels the weight of the early morning settle heavily in his limbs as the warm pressure of Louis against his side pulls him back towards sleep. 

"What about you?” Louis asks quietly. “Is Miss Nude UK your only ex?"

Harry giggles at the nickname and nods his head. "She is actually. I was seeing a guy in the last year of high school, but it was nothing too serious. Then I had a few one nighters and a few flings but—" Louis goes rigid beside him, and Harry notices the shift immediately. "Are you jealous?" He asks, his tone light and teasing. Louis responds by rolling closer and lifting himself onto his elbow, his gaze now fixed downwards onto Harry.

"No!" Snaps defensively and Harry raises a brow at him in disbelief. Louis rolls his eyes. "Okay, fine. The thought of you being with anyone else makes my skin crawl. Happy?" 

Harry leans forward and kisses Louis' lips.
"Tell me about your ex's then, so we're even." Harry yawns laying down and burying his face into the pillow.

"Uh.." Louis starts and Harry looks up at him curiously. He nods at him encouragingly. “I’ve never had a proper boyfriend before. But I did have a best friend that told me he was in love with me."  

Harry settles back down, trying not to react to the uncomfortable feeling bubbling in his stomach.

"He was wonderful.” Louis continues, a sad smile on his face. “And I told him I felt the same way, but he couldn't accept the fact that I wasn't ready to come out to my parents. He broke it off before it even really started and it broke my heart. I can't blame him though, honestly. It couldn't have been easy on him, not being able to even hold my hand in public for fear of someone I knew seeing us and telling my parents."

Louis had been right. The thoughts churning in Harry’s mind are undeniably unpleasant. The idea of Louis in love with someone else, being intimate with another person, fills him with a sickening nausea.

He knows that communication is an important part of any relationship, and he doesn't want his insecurities to jeopardise what he and Louis have only just started to build. So instead of flying into a jealous rage, he listens intently to Louis. He asks him questions and thoughtfully takes in his answers.

By the time Louis has given him the details of their break up about how they hadn’t been able to repair their friendship afterwards, Harry’s jealousy recedes and hes filled with empathy, holding Louis tightly as he holds back his upset. “I’ve moved on. We both have. I don’t love him anymore but I still miss him as a friend.”

“Maybe you’ll reconnect someday. You never know.” Harry tries to offer some sort of comfort and Louis just nods his head, clearly done with the topic for now. 

Harry decided to move on. "What were you doing up so early?" He asks as they watch the morning sun fill the sky with colour through the open terrace door.

"I couldn’t sleep. I've been stressed about going back to London.” Louis admits. “Having to face my parents. My future. You know, all those big life altering decisions I've got to make."

Harry kisses Louis' shoulder and rubs his hand across his stomach soothingly. "I watched you sleep for a bit.” He adds with a huff. “It made me feel a little better but I needed a smoke so I went outside. Didn't mean to wake you." He adds kissing Harry's hair.

"It’s okay, I understand. Well— I don't really. I happen to really like vaginas." He grins, and in an instant, Louis is all over him, tickling him relentlessly until Harry is a wheezing, laughing mess.

~

"It's not as big as I thought." Louis says angling his head slightly.

"You're joking, right?" Harry asks pointedly.

"I mean, I've only ever seen photos— but I just figured it would be like, extraordinarily humongous ." Louis adds.

They stand at the Leaning Tower of Pisa, one of Harry's planned stops en route to Milan. Harry sketches enthusiastically, while Louis, less impressed, waits patiently.

"Also, I draw the line at taking a photo like all these knobs." He adds, pointing to the hoards of people posed with their hands in the air. He pulls his sunglasses over his eyes and lies down on the grass, resting his arms behind his head.

Harry looks up from his notebook and sees the hundreds of tourists at various positions in front of the tower, pretending to push it up while someone takes their picture.

Harry puts on a show of mock disappointment. "Oh, come on, Lou!” He sighs dramatically, "We're tourists too!" Inside, though, the very idea of doing exactly that, makes him cringe.

Louis throws a clump of grass at him, and Harry watches it flutter through the air, landing on the page of his notebook. He sighs, snapping the book shut, and stands, reaching out to help Louis up as well.

“Come on then, grouch.” He laughs and kisses Louis once he's in front of him. 

With Louis asleep in the passenger seat, Harry drives them towards their next destination. He’s soon pulling over, though, wanting one final glimpse of the ocean before they head further inland for the non-stop journey to Milan.

After hours of travel, the city finally surrounds them, and Harry is mesmerised. He admires the buildings as he passes them by, heading towards their hotel. He finds himself captivated by the contrast of historic storefronts nestled among modern skyscrapers. The stylish crowds moving around fascinates him as he slowly drives by. 

As he begins to turn towards their hotel, a bustling strip mall lined with designer boutiques catches his eye. The thought of his recently full bank account sparks an idea, and he brakes a little too abruptly. Louis, still asleep in the passenger seat, jolts forward, his head hitting the window with a thud. He wakes with a start, rubbing his head and shooting a glare at Harry.

Harry glances apologetically at him before making the detour.

"Are we at the hotel?" Louis asks, a yawn stretching his words out. He rubs at his tired eyes. Harry's heart does a little flip. He looks utterly adorable and sleep rumpled.

"Not quite. There was a Gucci boutique.. and I was wondering if we could stop? Maybe even go inside this time?" He feels a pang of pretentiousness at the suggestion.

"That’s a great idea, love, you deserve it." Louis says, cutting off any insecurity. Harry parks the car, and they enter the busy mall and walk right for Gucci, hand in hand.

A security guard ushers them through the door, lifting a velvet rope and eying them suspiciously as they step inside. Harry understands. They’re not exactly dressed like people who can afford to shop here. Louis' hair is still messed up from his nap, and his worn out sneakers don't exactly scream designer . Harry's got on a ripped muscle tank, and there is a stain on his jeans from where he spilled his coffee this morning.

Despite his hesitation, Harry walks into the store as if he belongs. With his head held high, he carries himself with the knowledge that he can now genuinely afford to shop.

He can’t stop smiling as the staff dotes on him. He tries on several items, a team of assistants bringing him new options from the displays and complimenting his look in each.

He tries on the softest hoodie he's ever worn, then immediately adds it to the growing pile of items he wants to buy. His gaze flicks over to Louis who is fawning over a pair of sneakers, his eyes widening when he flips them over and sees the price tag, before promptly putting them back on their display shelf.

Harry decides on three pieces that he must have. The soft hoodie, a pair of jeans that make his legs look incredible, and a necklace with a banana charm. He manages to sneak in the pair of shoes that Louis had been eying off, and finalises his purchase with the helpful attendant. He flinches a little at the total price, but reminds himself that it will barely make a dint in his bank account. He has plenty of time to be careful with the money, but for now, he deserves to treat himself this once.

Back at the car, Harry's arms are weighed down with shopping bags, so Louis drives them to their hotel. He'd been excited about staying at the NYX, having picked it out for its cool, artsy feel. The quirky furniture and bright colours had sealed the deal during his trip planning, and when he enters the lobby, he knows he made the right choice.

As soon as they step into their room on the top floor, Harry is enamoured with its ambience. There's a bright yellow wall where the bed stands, a cool painting displayed above. The opposite wall has an enormous television, and the large window overlooks the entire city with a clear view all the way to the mountains along the horizon.

The room is small and cosy, just a bed and a bathroom off to one side.

They are starving by the time they put their bags down, so they decide after a quick shower they will head down to the hotel bar for some drinks and food, and maybe to play some pool.

While Louis takes his turn in the shower, Harry gets into his new jeans and a black shirt. He flips his long hair back, letting it settle around his shoulders, then adds a few rings and his new necklace. Then, he remembers Louis' new shoes that he’d bought. He grabs them from the box and sets them neatly on top of Louis' clothes that he laid out on the bed.

Harry settles himself against the headboard and turns on the TV, pointedly ignoring Louis as he walks out in his towel to get dressed. Louis pauses midway across the room when his eyes land on the shoes.

"Harry." Louis gasps. "What.. When did you—“ He stammers, eyes darting between Harry and the crisp, new sneakers. Harry smiles brightly at him and waits for him to stop glitching.

"I saw you looking at them.” He says, and Louis nods his head. “I remembered your size and asked the lady at the shop to grab a pair from the back so I could get them for you." He shrugs, like this was just a small gift and not a thousand euro pair of sneakers.

Louis finally moves, rubbing a hand across his face. He exhales deeply and shifts closer to Harry on the bed. A frown creases his brow, and Harry's stomach tightens with nerves. Has Harry overstepped? Did Louis actually not like them? Doubts spiral in Harry's mind. Then, Louis leans in, cups Harry's face, and kisses him deeply.

Once Harry’s breath is successfully stolen, their lips part and Louis draws back slightly, his gaze lingering on Harry. A soft smile plays on his lips, and the tenderness in his eyes sends a flutter through Harry's chest. " Baby .” Louis murmurs, his voice low and gentle, before pressing a soft peck to Harry's cheek and leaning back. 

"You didn't have to do that.” He adds, face turning serious. “I don't ever expect you to use any of that money on me. It should be for you and your mum." He says, shaking his head.

"Do you like them?" Harry asks nervously, biting his lip.

Louis' bright smile is all the confirmation Harry needs. "I fucking love them, Harry.” He breathes, his voice thick with emotion. 

He shuffles to the end of the bed and stands up, finally reaching for the shoes, turning them over in his hands as he examines them closely.

"Funny, I always thought I'd be the sugar daddy in someone's life." He laughs. "Never pictured myself having my own sugar daddy, especially one who buys me designer shoes and whisks me away on holidays."

Harry lets out a soft laugh and slides down the bed until he's facing Louis. He curls his fingers around Louis' wrist and draws him closer, positioning him between his thighs. "Hmm." Harry hums thoughtfully. "I think I’d prefer calling you Daddy ." He whispers the word breathily, and looks up at Louis with a playful, teasing glint in his eye.

Louis' breath hitches, and he swallows hard, his gaze dropping to Harry as if he is trying to gauge the sincerity behind his words. "Is that.. something you're actually into?" He asks, prompting Harry to consider how much of his statement had actually been a joke. 

Harry shrugs with a smirk. "I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it before.” His voice drops lower as he toys with the towel wrapped around Louis' waist. “But you play the role so damn good already, I think I could be into anything with you." 

Louis’ breath comes out ragged as he watches Harry unhook the towel and lets it fall to the floor. "Get dressed, Daddy ." He whispers teasingly, pressing a wet kiss to Louis' stomach. "I'm starving." His eyes flick upward with a smirk, and then he stands up, slapping Louis’ bum on his way towards the bathroom for one last check in the mirror.

~

"Has anyone ever told you that you're a brat?" Louis asks as they sip their beers, waiting for their food to arrive.

"My mother. All the time." Harry laughs.

Louis rolls his eyes. "That is not what I meant and you know it." He shakes his head, clearly still a little frustrated by Harry's teasing back in the room.

Their food arrives shortly after, and they're too hungry to do anything other than scoff it down. Once they're satisfied, they order another drink each and make their way over to the pool tables.

Louis arranges the balls on the table while Harry chalks his cue, preparing to break. As Louis begins to chalk his own cue, he turns to Harry and asks, "Are you any good?"

"I haven’t played in a while." Harry shrugs as he lines up his stick, pulls his arm back and slams it forward. The balls shatter apart, several of them going directly into the pockets.

Louis' jaw drops, eyes widening in disbelief. Harry, however, just smirks, a cheeky glint in his eye. "You sneaky little shit.” Louis accuses, a puff of annoyance escaping his lips as Harry confidently moves to set up his next shot.

Harry wins— three times , and Louis refuses to play again. "I'm gonna get us another drink." He sulks and stalks off around the corner to the bar. As he walks away, Harry can’t help but watch him. Despite his casual outfit— just a black T-shirt and jeans, his new sneakers on his feet, he is still undeniably gorgeous. Harry is constantly floored by him.

Harry sits back down at their table and pulls out his phone, checking his messages. He has a few texts. Niall, congratulating him on becoming a millionaire. And one from his mum, telling him she got the air conditioning fixed and thanking him. The final text he reads is from an unknown number.

Hey mate, it's James. I'm flying back to London tomorrow and would love to catch up when you get back. Let me know!

A smile stretches across Harry's face, and he makes a mental note to get in touch once he’s home, though the thought that this stranger is his brother feels utterly surreal. The idea of siblings is still too new  to have truly settled in his mind. Maybe one day it will become normal to him, but today isn't that day.

The sound of a throat clearing snaps him back to reality. Expecting Louis, he looks up, a smile already brightening his face. But the smile falters when he instead sees a stranger looming over him, his face uncomfortably close.

"Sei qui da solo?" The man says and Harry frowns. 

"Uh.. I don't speak Italian, sorry."

"Ahh, a Brit!" The man says brightly with a heavy accent. He leans down and rests his hand on the back of Harry's chair, bringing his face even closer to Harry's. "How about you come home with me, eh?" He breathes, his voice a low rasp right beside Harry's ear. Harry recoils, snapping back in his seat as the thick fumes of alcohol wash over him.

"Um, I'd rather not." A strained smile flickers across his face as he adds with a forced politeness, "Thanks though?" His shoulders tighten, and he shifts uncomfortably in his chair.

"Ah, come on! You're far too sexy to be sitting all alone.” He purrs.

“I’m not—“ Harry tries, but the man cuts him off.

“Let me take you home. I’ll show you how a real man can treat you." He practically growls, leaning in. He places his hand high on Harry’s thigh and purses his lips to kiss him.

Harry freezes, a cold dread gripping him as the man's fingers tighten on his thigh. He gasps, trying to yell out but his throat constricts as the man closes the distance. Suddenly, before Harry can react, the man is flying backwards, hitting the floor hard. Surprise jolts through Harry as he looks up, finding Louis standing over the man, his fists clenched tightly.

"Get your fucking hands off him, you fucking sleaze." Louis growls in a terrifyingly low voice. He glares down at the man who just blinks, all his previous confidence draining away, mirroring Harry's stunned expression.

Louis advances, and the sudden motion shakes Harry from his trance. He jumps up, seizing Louis' hand, and yanking him towards the lifts.

Louis allows himself to be led away, but he pauses, twisting back to glare at the man who still hasn't moved from the floor. “Fucking creep."

Cheers and applause erupts from a woman behind the bar as they walk away from the scene. Harry then watches as security moves in to escort the Italian man from the hotel. Harry hurries Louis toward the elevator, a sudden wave of tipsiness washing over him as he jabs the button, desperate to get back to their room.

As soon as they are sealed inside the lift, the doors sliding shut behind them, Louis spins to face Harry, his gaze sweeping frantically over him. "Are you alright? Did he hurt you? I'm so sorry I wasn't there to stop him." Louis scrubs a hand over his face and huffs out a heavy exhale. 

Harry gently takes Louis’ hand, lowering it from his face before leaning in to kiss his lips. He lingers there for a moment, then pulls back just enough for their foreheads to touch. "That was the sexiest fucking thing I've ever seen." He whispers against Louis' mouth. Harry sways slightly as the door opens, their steps a little unsteady as they head for their room.

As soon as they get inside, the whole night seems to hit Harry at once. Louis patiently helps him out of his clothes, a soft chuckle escaping him as he pulls Harry’s shirt over his head. "A little too much to drink, baby?" Harry just groans in response, collapsing onto the bed face first. He feels the bed shift as Louis kneels beside him, and a gentle hand moves through his hair, gathering it up and tying it into a bun with a hair tie he pulls from his wrist.

"Thanks, Lou." Harry mumbles into the pillow, the words slurred with a yawn. Louis leans down and kisses the exposed curve of Harry’s shoulder, then quickly undresses and climbs into the bed next to Harry, gently pulling the covers up over them.

Harry feels another kiss to his neck as Louis wraps a protective arm around his waist and holds him close. 

"My hero." Harry whispers, the words barely audible and heavy with sleep. A soft, breathy laugh escapes Louis, the warm air ghosting over his cheek. Louis leans in closer, brushing a delicate kiss against Harry's skin.

“Well, you did save me from that killer bird. So I suppose we're even now." Harry huffs out a laugh and hums in response. "Goodnight, my love." Louis says, his voice a gentle whisper, and kisses Harry again before settling comfortably against his side.

My love echoes through Harry's mind as he succumbs to sleep. 

Chapter Text

"You want some eggs, baby?" Louis offers, holding his fork under Harry's nose. Harry pales and drops his forehead down against the table with a miserable groan.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" He mumbles into the tablecloth.

"Of course not, darling.” Louis says, a sly smirk betraying his words. He then shovels a forkful of the scrambled eggs into his own mouth.

Harry had already managed to stomach half of a black coffee and a banana, both of which are currently churning in his belly.

They had woken up late and Louis had dragged him from the comfort of their bed, forcing him downstairs claiming they couldn't waste the complimentary breakfast buffet.

He slouches lower in his chair and pulls his sunglasses from his hair and perches them on his nose, shielding his eyes from the fluorescent lights of the restaurant. Louis is his usual bright and chipper self, already having polished off two plates of food and three mugs of tea. Harry is putting all his focus on not throwing up on the table.

"Aw, baby." Louis coos patronisingly, grabbing Harry's hand and rubbing his thumb over his knuckles soothingly. "I'll drive today, yeah?" He offers. Harry nods and they stand up, heading for the exit. Louis snags a few pastries from the buffet on the way past and stuffs them in his bag for the car ride.

"I’m not sure you're meant to take the food out of the restaurant, Lou." Harry chuckles, shaking his head.

"Car snacks." Louis retorts with a shrug.

"You know, your sugar daddy can just buy you whatever car snacks you want on the way.” Harry jokes, making Louis laugh out loud.

He opens the car door for Harry, pecking his cheek as he climbs in. "Let's go."

~

Two hours into their drive Harry wakes from a fitful nap, and starts to get restless. "Can we stop somewhere?” He asks around a yawn. “I need some fresh air." Louis nods and takes the next exit towards Aosta.

They pull into the village and take a stroll through the streets. The town is nestled between enormous snow capped mountains, remnants of ancient Roman buildings surrounding them as they take in the sights. 

Harry's hangover is finally beginning to dissipate with help of the fresh air and the pastries that Louis had stolen from the hotel.

Harry's feeling okay to drive, so they climb back into the car and head for the border.

"Got your passport?" Louis jokes.

"Ha ha." Harry deadpans as they pull away from the town and back to the motorway. Still, a flicker of anxiety sparks in his chest at the thought of being without his passport. He sighs, pulls the car to the shoulder, and scrambles into the back. Relief washes over him as he finds it exactly where he'd left it, and he shakes his head at his needless worry.

"Sorry." He says, slightly embarrassed about nearly freaking out again.

Louis' gaze softens, his eyes gentle as he reaches out and takes Harry's hand in his. "Hey.” He murmurs, his voice soft. "You don't need to apologise. I know anxiety is difficult for you, and I shouldn't have made light of it." He gently lifts Harry's hand and presses a tender kiss to the back of it. "You never have to apologise for how you feel, not to me. Okay?"

Harry's heart skips, an unfamiliar yet pleasant warmth spreading through his veins. "How are you so perfect?" He sighs, his eyes brimming with affection when he looks over at Louis. 

Louis laughs and shakes his head. "I'm not perfect, Harry. You've just never been treated with the respect you deserve— which makes me fucking furious, by the way."

Deep down, Harry knows he's settled for scraps. He's always been the one that falls harder, and puts far more effort into the relationships than he gets in return. He's spent so long playing a role, hiding his less-than-perfect parts to keep partners from leaving. With Louis though, he hasn’t once felt like he has to do that.

Being with Louis is unlike anything Harry has experienced before. He feels truly seen and accepted for who he is, without reservation. Louis has seen him at his most vulnerable and never dismisses his feelings. Instead of telling him to get over it, or to toughen up, Louis is patient and offers him comfort, holding his hand and asking what he needs to feel better.

Louis had sat with him on their second day of knowing each other and helped him breathe through a panic attack. Whereas Mia had once told him to leave a party he was feeling overwhelmed at because he was bringing the mood down.

"I swear.” Louis says through gritted teeth. "If I ever meet your ex." Harry just smiles at him, a fond expression on his face. He loves how protective Louis can be. It makes him feel so safe and cared for.

"I'll probably have to see her when I start school again. She's in some of my classes." Harry explains and finally pulls the car back onto the road. 

"Guess I'll just have to enroll in your classes then. Be your bodyguard." Louis jokes, punctuating the words with a wink. Harry chuckles softly.

They're soon crossing the Swiss border, and by early afternoon they arrive in Geneva. They agree to explore the town a little and grab an early dinner so they can settle into their hotel ready to depart for Paris early in the morning.

They spend the afternoon exploring shops, walking alongside the lake, and soaking in the scenery. Their hands remain intertwined the entire time and Harry is overwhelmed with how lucky he is to have found Louis. He looks over at him, his face relaxed and happy as they walk.

He suddenly breaks out in a wide grin. "Can we go on the Ferris wheel?" Louis pivots to Harry, bouncing in the balls of his feet like an excited child when he spots it across the bridge.

"Uh.." Harry scratches at the back of his neck nervously. "I'm not— I don't exactly do well with heights." He stammers out.

"Oh." Louis says. "What if I hold your hand?" He offers and Harry laughs, looking down at their already joined hands. 

“You'll hold my hand no matter where we are." He retorts and Louis shrugs in agreement.

"Okay, what if I give you a blowy when we get back to the hotel?" Louis tosses out the suggestion as easily as asking about the time, and Harry nearly chokes. He gapes at Louis, but he just looks back, unfazed, acting as if he hadn't just made such a brazenly sexual offer in the middle of a crowd.

"Shameless." Harry laughs, shaking his head. 

Louis glances at the crowd, shrugging. “Never gonna see these people again, so who cares?” He says before kissing Harry's flushed cheek.

"So, the Ferris wheel?" Louis asks, his eyes bright and Harry nods his agreement. A smile blooms on Louis' face, as radiant as the sunbeams breaking through the cloud cover. The sheer joy emanating from him is enough to banish Harry’s nerves about being so high up.

They climb into their seat, a steel bar clamping down across their laps to hold them in. Harry feels a jolt, and his heart hammers in his chest as the giant wheel shifts forward to allow the next couple to get on below.

A nervous breath escapes his lips, and he squeezes his eyes shut against the dizzying ascent. As the Ferris wheel carries them higher, Louis keeps his promise, his hand firmly in Harry's. He tries to soothe Harry with gentle words, but all he can register is the ground falling away beneath them. Each groan of the structure amplifies his terrifying thoughts, and he finds himself calculating how long they would plummet before they meet the concrete below.

By the time they reach the peak of the Ferris wheel, Harry is fighting to regulate his breath. He squeezes his eyes shut tighter, trying to think of anything other than his imminent death. Their chair begins to sway as the wind picks up and the sky has darkened ominously like a bad omen.

They suddenly come to a jolting stop, and Harry gasps, his knuckles white as he grips the bar and Louis' hand. "Hey, you’re okay." Louis says, his voice laced with concern as he gently tilts Harry's chin up to meet his gaze.

Still not opening his eyes, he tries his best to focus on Louis' voice. "Breathe, baby.” Louis soothes. “I've got you.” He gently strokes Harry's cheek. "Can you open your eyes for me, darling?"

His eyes flutter open and he’s met with the dizzying view in front of them and freezes up when he realises they're at the very top of the wheel. The entire city is spanned out below them, the lake winding all the way into the mountains along the horizon.

He squeezes his eyes shut again, a panicked whimper breaking free. "Hey, hey, hey. Don't look down.” Louis says, his hands framing Harry’s face. “Look at me, baby. Just me.” Louis draws Harry closer, the softest brush of his nose against Harry's. Harry focuses on the warm puffs of Louis’ breath ghosting over his lips and the steady warmth of Louis’ hands cradling his neck.

"Love.” Louis whispers. "I've got you." Harry feels his panic dissolve when Louis leans forward and kisses him softly. The second their lips meet, Harry's heart bursts open and so does the sky. Fat drops of rain start to pelt down on them, drenching their clothes, their hair and their skin. The cold shock of the water makes Harry gasp, but Louis' arm quickly pulls him in, surrounding him with warmth against the sudden chill.

Finally letting go of the railing, Harry presses himself closer, deepening the kiss. He cups Louis' face, the feel of his skin grounding him as their tongues dance together. The chilled air around them vanishes, replaced by the warmth of Louis' mouth.

Lost in the moment, Harry barely registers the Ferris wheel beginning its descent back to the ground. Breathless and soaked to the bone, they are jolted back to reality by the distinct sound of the ride operator clearing his throat beside them. They separate, and look up to find him standing awkwardly by their seat, waiting to unlock their safety bar and let them off.

The second their feet touch the ground after the ride, they bolt. Gripping each other tightly, they tear through the streets towards their hotel and don't stop running until they stand dripping in the elevator.

Not able to keep his hands off Louis any longer, Harry steps forward and closes the distance between them. Louis immediately takes control, spinning them around until Harry’s back hits the wall then he’s crashing their lips together in a heated kiss.

The kiss is wet and immediate, rain drops still running down their faces as their mouths slide together. Their hands move urgently over each other, gripping the soaked fabric.

A sharp ding slices through the silence, breaking them from their trance as the doors spring open. Louis instantly grips Harry's hand and they run the rest of the way down the hall to the room. Harry fumbles with the key, his movements becoming slightly frantic as Louis presses close behind, nipping at his shoulder and letting his hand drift down Harry’s stomach before teasing along his waistband. 

The door hasn’t even fully clicked shut before Louis has Harry pinned against the wall, his mouth crashing against his in a hard kiss. Their wet clothes are torn off and tossed aside, landing in damp heaps on the floor.

Holding Harry's hips firmly, Louis begins to stumble backwards, their kiss deepening as they move towards the bed. He gently turns Harry and guides him onto the mattress, then lowers himself down, his cold, naked body settling against Harry's.

Harry sucks in a breath as Louis grinds his hips down in painfully slow rolls, their hard cocks sliding together and sending waves of pleasure through Harry. Harry's hand immediately finds Louis' arse, his fingers tightening in a frustrated, needy grip.

"Louis. Please." Harry whines, then lets out a desperate groan when Louis shifts to trail kisses  across his jaw, holding him by the throat to keep him in place while he sucks the skin below his ear until a bruise blooms.

A moan escapes Harry's lips as pleasure ripples through him, bordering on overwhelming. He parts his lips to urge Louis on, when Louis suddenly slides two fingers into Harry's mouth and presses down against his tongue in a silent request. Harry obeys, eagerly sucking them down, his throat tightening slightly with the depth.

Louis’ breath hitches against Harry’s throat, his lips pressing wet kisses to the skin as he speaks. "God, you're so fucking sexy, Harry." He murmurs. "Want you so badly, all the time."

Harry gives a gentle nip to Louis’ fingers as they’re drawn back out of his mouth. Louis wastes no time in pressing his lips back against Harry's, the kiss becoming suddenly charged and unrestrained.

Louis begins crawling lower, mouth hot and wet against Harry's skin, leaving a line of open kisses that burn like fire. Harry's head drops to the pillows, eyes closing as he fights for control, but it is quickly slipping away. Especially when Louis' mouth finds the soft skin of his inner thigh, teasing with bites and hungry sucks.

He gasps for air, his heart a frantic pulse in his ears. An electric tremor runs through him, tightening his muscles with anticipation.

"Lou.." Harry drawls, his back arching off the bed when Louis clamps his teeth down on his skin. "Please.. touch me. I need it, Lou. Please." He's almost in tears as he begs for some relief.

Thankfully, Louis listens this time, widening Harry's thighs as he begins to tease the sensitive skin around Harry's hole with wet fingers. He still deliberately ignores Harry's cock, letting it throb untouched.

A low groan rumbles from the depths of Harry’s chest as Louis’ fingers trace a slow, deliberate path over his skin. He kisses gentle pecks up Harry’s thigh until he reaches his balls, taking one into his mouth sucking softly.

Louis pushes a finger in slowly, giving Harry a moment to adjust before he’s increasing his pace. When he finds Harry's prostate, Harry gasps, and Louis massages into the nerves insistently making Harry's legs tremble.

Harry is a whimpering mess, unable to keep still against the mattress. Part of him needs Louis to get on with it, to give him more, while the other part is enjoying the slow pace Louis has set, savouring the torturous suspense that comes with it.

Just as Louis reaches for him, wrapping his fingers around his cock, Harry's control slips. A raw moan tears from his throat as he comes, the force of it shaking him.

"Oh my god." He gasps, closing his eyes and fighting to steady his breathing. He feels Louis' weight shift, crawling back towards him and his eyes snap back open, met by the unexpected sight of Louis' tongue tracing his skin, gently cleaning him.

Awestruck, Harry watches Louis finish every drop before returning to his mouth. Harry tastes himself on Louis' tongue as he’s drawn into a deep, lingering kiss. A familiar heat sparks within him, a renewed wave of arousal that leaves him already wanting more.

There is no teasing this time. Louis is on him, bodies colliding in raw, urgent friction. The kiss is hard, bordering on rough, and a sharp bite follows, tugging until Harry's lip stings.

Harry reaches down to touch Louis but his hand is quickly swatted away with a sharp slap. He whines and feels himself pout, but it is quickly wiped from his face as Louis reaches down and takes them both into his hand, tugging both of their cocks at the same time.

Louis' voice, a low rumble against his ear, sends a shiver down his spine. "Are you going to behave, or do I need to restrain these hands?" He feels a possessive hand tighten on his waist. "I'm meant to be rewarding you for being so brave, not punishing you." The idea of complete submission to Louis is intoxicating, his head lolling back as dizzying pleasure courses through him.

Harry's reaction seems to startle Louis. Louis' eyebrows shoot up, and Harry can practically see the gears working in Louis' head, as if he were filing away a mental reminder to buy handcuffs, or maybe scarves, for future use.

Harry pauses, gauging Louis' reaction before reaching down again, this time aiming for Louis’ thigh.

Louis releases their cocks, and Harry whines at the loss of friction. Louis then reaches for Harry's wrists. "Lucky for you, I don't have anything to restrain you." Louis says, a playful scold in his voice. "But you are going to hold onto the headboard. And you're not letting go until I tell you. If you do.." He continues, his tone lowering. "I'll make you watch me finish, and then I'm going straight to sleep. Got it?" The firmness in Louis' voice has Harry’s cock spill a bead of pre-come between them.

Harry nods his head and obeys, gripping onto the bars tightly. Louis dips his head back down to peck his lips, whispering "good boy" into the small gap between their mouths.

Louis shifts back down the bed until he is sitting up on Harry's thighs. He reaches down, taking hold of Harry's cock with one hand and his own with the other. Harry watches as Louis begins to stroke them both, his lip caught between his teeth as he tilts his head back in pleasure.

Harry’s hands itch to touch him. To stroke his firm thighs, to squeeze the curve of his hips, to run his fingers through his soft hair. But he doesn't push his luck, as the thought of not being allowed to come is far worse than the torture of not being allowed to touch him.

He can see that Louis is getting close. The distinct way his stomach muscles twitch with each stroke. Harry can feel the tightening in his own belly again as he watches Louis bringing himself to the edge.

Suddenly, Louis is letting them both go as his hands lift to rub over his face with a shaky exhale. Harry whines at the loss of contact but doesn't dare to let go of the bars. He can see the effort etched on Louis’ face as he tries to compose himself. He's edging himself, and Harry. He's trying to drag this out as long as possible.

"It's taking everything I have not to—" Louis cuts himself off, his voice raw. "You're lying there looking like a fucking wet-dream." He draws in a sharp breath, his gaze lingering on every inch of Harry.

Harry lets out a surprised puff of laughter as Louis' carefully constructed facade crumbles, replaced by a broad, genuine grin. Locked in eye contact, they both take a moment to steady their breathing. Then, Louis closes the distance and kisses Harry— a slow, deliberate press of lips that sends Harry reeling.

"What do you want, baby?" Louis asks quietly as he nips at the skin of Harry's jaw. "Tell me what you need. You were so brave today. I'm gonna make you feel so fucking good."

The press of Louis' lips sends a shudder through Harry. He keeps his eyes closed, lost in the feeling. When he doesn’t respond, Louis' presses further. "Do you want my mouth? My fingers again?" He murmurs, his breath warm against Harry's throat as he trails kisses across it, ending with a playful nip at his ear.

"You want my cock? Want me to fuck you, hm?" He whispers hotly into Harry's ear. Harry is nodding his head before Louis even finishes his question.

"Yes. God yes." Harry rasps. "Please, Lou. Want you to fuck me so hard." He begs and can feel Louis grinning into the skin of his neck.

Louis swings his legs off the bed and reaches for his bag. He pulls out a bottle of lube and a condom. "Turn over, love. On your stomach.” Louis instructs. Harry obeys instantly, burying his face in the pillow, struggling to control his racing pulse.

He hears the click of the lube bottle and the subtle dip of the mattress as Louis climbs back onto the bed beside him. A moment later, a hand settles on his arse, fingers gently kneading into his flesh.

Louis climbs onto Harry's thighs, his knees straddling either side of Harry's legs. He gently strokes Harry's back, his fingertips moving up and down his spine, before leaning in to kiss his heated skin.

Harry instinctively presses his hips into the mattress, a desperate attempt to find some relief from the throbbing ache. A sudden, sharp slap on his arse startles him still.

A sharp hiss escapes him as pain intertwined with a rush of pleasure, sending jolts directly to his cock. He can feel himself steadily leaking against the sheets. A moan slips out as Louis leans over him, his weight pressing down, his breath ghosting against Harry's ear. "Don't.” Louis growls, the single word a low vibration against Harry's skin. The sound alone is enough to send him spiraling, and he clenches his muscles, fighting back the urge to come.

He doesn’t get a chance to reply before feeling Louis' fingers slide down his back, slick with lube. They explore the space between his crack, teasing and stroking before settling against his hole. Harry shifts, desperately trying to spread his legs wider, but Louis' legs hold him firmly in place.

Harry clenches his jaw, fighting the urge to press back as Louis carefully inserts two fingers. It’s a test of will to remain still, but thankfully, the slow torment doesn’t last. Louis thrusts in deeper, working Harry with deliberate strokes. When a third, slick finger joins the rhythm, Harry moans into the pillow.

He can't stifle the sounds that rise in his throat as pleasure takes over. He grips the mattress, his body shaking as he mindlessly grinds forward, desperate for release. Louis remains focused, guiding him closer to the edge.

"Fuck!" Harry chokes into the pillow. "I'm.. I’m gonna come. Please don't stop." He squeezes his eyes shut as the bliss courses through him.

Then Louis stops.

With a low chuckle, he pulls his fingers out and delivers another sharp slap to Harry’s arse. "I told you not to move." He states, seemingly unfazed by Harry's frustration.

There's tears prickling Harry's eyes as he presses his face into the pillow to stifle a sob. He is so close, his orgasm still just out of reach. He briefly considers saying fuck it, and getting up to lock himself in the bathroom to finish himself off.

He’s about to roll over when he hears Louis tear open the condom packet. Louis rubs a soothing hand down his back before pressing several kisses along his shoulders then up the back of his neck, his weight keeping Harry in place.

"Alright, baby. I've got you." He gently murmurs, as he guides his slicked-up cock through Harry's cheeks, the tip catching against his hole. Harry involuntarily shudders at the sensation, and before he can even take a deep breath, Louis is already pushing into him. Harry lets out a moan of pleasure, which is met with a groan from Louis as he finally enters him.

"Fucking hell." Louis shouts, throwing his head back. His eyes squeeze shut and his mouth falls open. "You're so tight, babe." He grits out through clenched teeth. "You feel incredible."

Harry tightly holds onto the bed sheets as Louis fully bottoms out. The sensation is overwhelming, coursing through his entire body, from his head to the soles of his feet. Louis pauses to allow Harry to adjust, both of them breathing heavily in the thick, warm air of the hotel room.

"Please move. I'm good." Harry huffs out. He glances back at Louis, immediately wishing he hadn’t. The vision of him is almost enough to derail him, and his body tenses, fighting to not come.

Straddling Harry from behind, Louis braces himself, legs wide. Sweat slicks his skin, and damp strands of hair fall across his brow as he breathes heavily, mouth open. His hands grip Harry's hips, pulling his cheeks apart, his eyes fixed on their joined bodies. A moment passes, then Louis glances up and their eyes meet, jolting him out of his trance.

Immediately, Louis starts moving his hips. He draws out at a gruelling pace before snapping forward and burying himself back in. They both groan in unison, Harry unable to hold his cries back. He has no doubt the other hotel guests can hear every noise they make through the thin walls. A spark of embarrassment mixes with his pleasure, and he hopes they don't run into anyone on their way out the room in the morning.

Louis continues his slow, deep thrusts. "You feel so good.” He punctuates his words with a sharp jab to Harry’s prostate. “Jesus, Harry. So fucking good." Louis mumbles. Harry's entire body is alight with pleasure, the friction on his cock against the sheets intensifying as Louis rocks his body forward sends him into overdrive.

He can't hold back much longer, the overstimulation from his previous orgasm almost unbearable. Every nerve ending thrums, drawing tears to his eyes and curling his toes. He feels himself teetering on the edge, stars bursting behind his eyelids as he squeezes them shut.

Then without warning, Louis is pulling out, leaving him empty and desperate. He cries out in protest, but before he can say more, Louis takes hold of his hips and gently rolls him onto his back.

"I want to see your beautiful face.” Louis breathes, his lips brushing Harry's forehead in a tender kiss. The unexpected sweetness makes Harry's body relax, and he sinks back into the mattress, a pleasant fogginess clouding his mind.

He locks his legs around Louis' waist, pulling him back in close. Louis kisses him deeply before lining himself up and pushing back in. They gasp together as Louis quickly resumes the rhythm. Harry holds on tight and they stay close, bodies moulded together, their kiss turning sloppy as neither of them can focus on moving their lips.

"Jesus, Harry.” Louis gasps against his lips, thrusting deeper. "You're so fucking amazing." Harry moans into Louis' mouth, angling himself just right so Louis jabs against his prostate.

"Feels so good, Lou. Please. I need to come." Harry murmurs as he squeezes his eyes shut, too far gone to care that he’s begging.

Harry can feel Louis losing control, his movements becoming sloppy as he fights to hold off his own release. His rhythm begins to falter, his breathing going ragged and his noises becoming more desperate.

"Open your eyes." Louis says, the words a sharp command. He then softens his tone. "Look at me, baby. I wanna see you." Harry's eyes snap open, immediately finding Louis'.

With one final, hard thrust, Harry is coming between their stomachs, vision blurring as he comes harder than he ever has before. Just a second later, Louis stills deep inside him, coming into the condom with a guttural moan.

Their bodies remain locked in place, breathing heavily like they've just run a marathon, neither wanting to move. Harry closes his eyes as he feels Louis reverently push the damp hair away from his face and press a soft kiss to his cheek, then his jaw, his chin and his lips. He rests his forehead against Harry's as they both slowly come down from their high.

"Don't go to sleep yet, love." Louis chuckles. "Let me get a towel and clean us up." He slowly eases himself out of Harry and walks to the bathroom. Harry starts to drift off, and barely wakes up when Louis wipes down his skin and climbs into the bed, pulling the covers over them both.

He hears Louis fiddle with his phone, setting an alarm for the morning so they can head off early as planned. Harry's heart aches a little at the thought of their next stop being the last before they return home.

He's not quite ready for their adventure to be over. He’s gained so much more from this trip than he ever expected. But he knows it's only the beginning of a new chapter for them together, and he's excited for what lies ahead. 

Chapter Text

"Mmm, yes, right there." Harry groans softly, the sound lost to his pillow. Louis' strong hands knead his back, easing the lingering tension in his muscles. They had been woken up by Louis' alarm just a few moments ago, last night's storm has cleared and the sunrise streaming through the window and onto the bed, warming their naked skin made them reluctant to rise.

Louis presses kisses to Harry's shoulder and the back of his neck while he rubs away the ache in his lower back from sitting in the car so much. Harry hums peacefully, closing his eyes and basking in the feeling.

Turning over, Harry feels a wave of relaxation wash over him. The lazy kisses resume, Louis settling perfectly between Harry’s thighs, hands exploring each other's skin with gentle, soothing strokes.

A warm palm settles against the nape of Harry's neck, his thumb gently caressing his jaw and urging him closer. Harry feels the butterflies erupt in his stomach as Louis' touch seems to melt him from the inside out, leaving him weak and breathless.

Louis' hand drifts up, fingers tangling in Harry's curls. He then leans back just enough to press soft kisses along Harry's jaw, tracing a path upwards to his ear.

"Can I braid your hair?" Louis whispers between kisses. 

Harry huffs out a surprised laugh. "You know how to braid?" He asks and Louis nips at his ear, sending a shiver all the way down to his toes.

Louis draws back slightly, his fingers tracing the curve of Harry's cheek. He meets Harry's gaze, a smile in his eyes. "Five sisters, remember?" He whispers before claiming Harry's lips once more. Harry nods, lost in the feeling. He'd gladly let Louis have whatever he wants as long as the kisses keep coming.

Just as he has that thought, Louis is sitting up, taking his lips with him. "We really need to get going." Louis sighs and Harry whines in dismay. 

"Screw Paris.” He says petulantly. “Screw everything. I just want to lay here and kiss you for the rest of my life." He pouts and Louis just laughs.

"As nice as that sounds, darling, if I don't eat something soon I may die. Then who will you kiss?" Louis jokes.

"I'll just keep kissing you." Harry shrugs, and Louis looks at Harry wide eyed.

"I’m fairly sure that’s frowned upon, babe." He raises an eyebrow before leaning down and giving Harry one final peck, then making his way to the shower.

~

"You sure you know what you're doing?" Harry asks as he sits on the floor against the bed between Louis' legs. 

"If you'd sit your arse still and let me concentrate, then I'd stop losing my place and having to start over." Louis gently scolds.

Harry pulls his lips into his mouth and looks forward, eyes fixed in the patterned wallpaper ahead, keeping himself as still as he possibly can.

"And.. Done!" Louis announces triumphantly, snapping an elastic in place. He steps around Harry and pulls him up, guiding him over to the mirror. Louis has braided his hair into two neat plaits, one on each side of his head, and then pinned them together into a low bun at the nape of his neck. Harry inspects his reflection, turning his head from side to side, and finally nods, satisfied. "You like it?" Louis asks, his expression hopeful.

"It looks great!" He says sincerely with a dimpled smile, then runs his fingers softly over each braid. Louis beams proudly and kisses him on the cheek.

"Now, let's get to Paris so my millionaire boyfriend can wine and dine me." Louis winks and Harry rolls his eyes but follows him out the door.

~

They arrive at their hotel around midday and when they're taken up to the penthouse suite, Louis slaps Harry on the arm. "Jesus fuck, Harry!" He shouts, his outburst making the bellboy beside them flinch.

Harry's smile is almost shy as he tucks his hands into his pockets and shrugs. "We're here for the whole weekend, Lou. Decided to splurge a little." He says it casually, but the room they're standing in is anything but. 

Louis' frown deepens, but he presses a kiss to the stinging spot on Harry's arm then squeezes his hip affectionately. The bellboy clears his throat, clearly ready to be dismissed, then drops their bags and scurries out of the room.

They explore the suite, a huge penthouse apartment that takes up the entire top floor of the hotel. The bedroom is separate from the living space with a huge en-suite connected to the room. Harry eyes the enormous spa bath excitedly, wiggling his brows at Louis and making him laugh. All the features of the suite are classically Parisian and absolutely beautiful.

Louis then finds the fully stocked kitchen and quickly tears into a bag of crisps, chewing them obnoxiously. Harry rolls his eyes when crumbs fall onto the pristine dark wooden floor but he reaches in and takes a handful for himself, hungry after their trip. 

The living space exudes comfort with its two plush, cream-coloured couches. Vases of fresh flowers adorn every tabletop, a large television is built into one wall, and glass double-doors open onto a large balcony.

Stepping outside, Harry is immediately struck speechless. The Eiffel Tower stands before them, much closer than they had seen the last time they were in Paris, which now felt like a lifetime ago. He stares, completely awestruck by the sight.

The gentle breeze seems to carry Harry's words, soft and almost wistful. "I think when I get married, it will be in Paris." Beside him, Louis visibly stiffens. Harry, realising the weight of his statement, quickly retreats. "Uh.. I didn't actually mean to say that out loud. Sorry." He mumbles, punctuating the apology with a nervous laugh. Louis dismisses the comment with a wave of his hand, but the look on his face is unreadable, leaving Harry uneasy.

"Want to go get lunch?" Louis asks in a clear attempt to change the subject. Harry nods and moves towards the door. "Just gonna have a smoke first." Lous adds, pulling the pack from his jeans.

Harry winces, his words echoing in his head as he hurries inside. He makes a beeline for his bag, tugging off his shirt and quickly changing into something lighter.

Louis comes in a short while after and wraps his arms around Harry from behind. He presses a lingering kiss to the back of Harry's neck then sighs, leaning his forehead down against his shoulder.

Harry shifts, twisting in Louis' arms until they are face-to-face. He notices the small wrinkle etched between Louis' brows, creased with worry. "What's wrong?" Harry whispers, his voice laced with concern. Seeing Louis' usual bright demeanor clouded over brings a pang of sadness to his chest. It has been a while since he's seen Louis so down, and he hates it.

Louis just shakes his head and leans down to hide  against Harry's throat, his face nuzzled into the skin. Harry pulls him in closer, encircling his arms around his waist, squeezing him tight and rubbing his back comfortingly. 

They remain silent for what feels like an eternity. Harry's mind spins, desperately trying to pinpoint the moment Louis' cheerful mood had evaporated. The most likely culprit, Harry fears, was his own offhand mention of marriage. He is almost certain he has frightened Louis.

"Lou?" Harry whispers into Louis' hair and kisses the top of his head. "Please tell me what's wrong." He asks gently.

He speaks without lifting his head, his voice thick with emotion, more choked than Harry has ever heard it. "I just want to give you the world, Harry." He pauses to clear his throat, then continues. "The closer we get to London, the harder it is to ignore what I'm going to have to face when we get there." Burying his face deeper, Louis rubs his nose against Harry's skin, as if trying to soothe himself with Harry’s scent.

"I don't even have anywhere to go.” He adds quietly. “I have nowhere to live, no job, no money. Like, we pull into London and where do you even drop me off?" Harry's fingers tangle in Louis' hair, then tighten their grip at the nape of his neck, drawing him back. Louis raises his head, revealing eyes rimmed with red and shimmering with unshed tears. Harry’s heart breaks.

Harry's voice leaves no room for argument. "Lou, you're staying with me." He didn’t realise it was even necessary to say the words, surprised Louis hasn’t already considered it a given. "We'll go to my mum's for now, and then figure things out when I'm back at school. Hell, I'll buy us a bloody house, if that's what it takes."

"Harry, no. That money is for you. For your future. You can't just go blowing through it for me when I should—“ He sighs, dropping his head back onto Harry's shoulder. "I should be able to get my own life together and provide for myself."

"Louis, look at me." Harry pleads softly. Louis' gaze lifts to meet his, and Harry leans in to kiss away the tear tracing its way down his cheek. "The only future I want is one with you in it. The rest we can figure out together as we go. I'd be happy living in my car as long as you were with me. Don't you understand? It's not about the money. I just want you to be happy, and for us to be together." He's firm with his words and he hopes Louis will finally accept them.

"You mentioned marriage before." Louis mutters quietly and Harry nods. "I've never met anyone I've even considered spending the rest of my life with." He looks up at Harry, meeting his eyes. "Now that I have you in my life I can't imagine it any other way." Harry smiles down at him and kisses him on the forehead.

"I know you're stressed, Lou. But we'll figure it all out, okay? I promise. You and me." Harry says and Louis nods, leaning up on his toes to kiss Harry's lips. Harry wipes Louis' tears away and pulls him into a tight hug.

"Now. Lunch?" Harry asks and Louis huffs a wet laugh, nodding his head.

~

They find themselves at a small cafe, their table nestled in a quiet corner by the window. Harry gazes out at the street, lost in thought as they wait for their lunch. When he turns back to Louis, he has a fond smile playing on his lips as he stares back. 

“What are you staring at?" Harry asks, a laugh bubbling up as he swivels in his chair, playfully tangling their feet together beneath the cafe table.

"You look really pretty today, that's all." He shrugs, reaching out to run a finger over the woven strands of Harry's braid. Harry's cheeks pink and his stomach flips at the compliment. Louis' touch lingers, his fingers gently caressing Harry's cheek before giving his chin a playful squeeze.

The waitress approaches with their food and drinks. She clears her throat. "Sorry to make you separate." She says, her French accent thick as she sets the tray down on their table. Her eyes twinkle. "You guys are very cute! How long have you been together?"

Harry and Louis look at each other and smile, letting out a nervous laugh.
"Uh.. We met twelve days ago." Harry answers, realising how crazy that must sound to an outsider.

"That's beautiful! When you know, you know. Oui? My girlfriend and I have been together for one month and we are engaged." She says proudly, beaming down at them. "Enjoy your food. My name is Mara, just call me over if you need anything else." She smiles and walks back over to the counter and out of site. Harry can't help the wide grin that takes over his face as he picks up his pain d’éspices and takes a bite.

"What are you so smiley about?" Louis asks, sipping his tea.

"Just really happy." He shrugs, the words an understatement compared to the joy bubbling inside him.

Once they finish eating, they offer Mara their sincere thanks and a hefty tip before setting off on a shopping spree. "No more Gucci.” Louis declares as Harry’s eyes linger on an extravagant suit displayed in a small boutique's window. Harry feigns offense, prompting a laugh from Louis. "Only joking, love.” He chuckles, "You can buy whatever you like. You'd look great in that.” He adds, gesturing towards the window.

He continues, gripping Harry’s hand and leading him to the next storefront. "Maybe you could wear it for your extravagant Parisian wedding that you have all planned in that pretty head of yours." Harry smiles and looks back longingly at the suit, pining over it slightly before they turn the corner.

" Our ." Harry corrects quietly and Louis looks up, a question in his eyes. " Our wedding." Harry clarifies, leaning down to press a kiss to Louis' cheek. Louis blushes, a smirk playing on his lips as he looks down. Then, they continue on, heading towards a store that's more to Louis' taste.

~

The setting sun casts a warm glow as they walk hand in hand beside the River Seine. They cross a bridge on their way back to the hotel, stopping to observe the railings laden with thousands of padlocks. Harry pauses, gesturing towards them. "I've heard about this. Couples write their names on a padlock and clip it to the railing, then throw the key into the water as a gesture of commitment."

"That can't be good for the environment. Or the structure of the bridge." Louis says with concern as he runs his fingers over the locks. "These must weigh a ton."

Harry huffs a laugh. "Not a romantic, then?" He asks with an eye roll.

"I can be very romantic, actually.” He clarifies. “I just prefer to keep it between myself and the person I'm romancing ." He squeezes Harry's hand and smiles up at him. "Are you forgetting our boat ride in Venice? Or our car-camping in Procida?" Harry smiles at the memories they’ve shared already. "I was even going to make you a romantic dinner tonight, actually." He shrugs and Harry bounces excitedly before he remembers something.

“Lou, you don't know how to cook." He says pointedly.

Louis freezes his step and turns to Harry with a faux glare. "I'll have you know, I have perfected a particular chicken dish that my sisters rave over whenever I cook it. But if you don't want me to cook, I won't." He turns to walk away but Harry grabs his wrist turning him back around.

"I'm sorry.” Harry says, almost laughing. "Please cook for me." In an attempt to sweeten the deal, he leans in to kiss Louis. But Louis turns his head at the last second and the kiss meant for Louis' lips, lands on his cheek instead.

Harry pouts at Louis prompting Louis to roll his eyes. "God! I'm trying to pretend to be mad at you right now, and you're making it really difficult when you look at me that way." Louis fights back a smile, giving in and kissing the pout right off Harry's face.

A wide grin splits Harry's face, and Louis playfully pokes his dimple. As they continue across the bridge, Harry has to consciously tear his gaze away from Louis, worried he'll stumble into a pole or the water.

"At least I know what to do to win all the real arguments we're going to have." Harry smirks.

"You can't just give me your pouty little kitten face every time we— Wait , what are we even going to argue about? I don't want to argue with you." The words leave Louis with a pout of his own.

"Just.. future stuff. Where we might live, whether we're a cat family or a dog one, if we want kids.." Harry trails off, suddenly self-conscious. It’s been too easy to picture a life with Louis, he sometimes forgets how fast they’re actually moving.

He's managed to put his foot in his mouth twice in one day. Louis looks at him with a contemplative look on his face. "You— Do you want kids?" Louis asks cautiously and Harry's heart stutters. Is this where the other shoe finally drops? Is this the thing that will break them before they even truly start? Louis is about to tell Harry he doesn’t want kids, and Harry needs to have them.

Harry halts, his words catching in his throat. He gently tugs Louis back, forcing him to face him. "I do." He mumbles, his voice hesitant. "I really do." He watches as Louis' quiet contemplation transforms into radiant joy.

"I do too." He says finally and Harry can breathe again. Louis pulls them back into step as they continue down the sidewalk. "How many do you want?" Louis asks, resting his head down onto Harry's shoulder and holding his bicep.

"Twelve." Harry answers without missing a beat and Louis stops in his tracks, this time pulling Harry back to face him. 

"Twelve?!" Louis shouts. "Jesus, Harry—" He panics and Harry laughs.

"I'm only joking. Jesus, Lou.” He cracks up. “Two? Maybe three? I don't know. But I've always imagined myself having a daughter." He looks off into the distance, a dreamy smile playing on his lips. Louis smiles softly and links their arms again as they continue their walk.

~

"Holy shit." Harry gasps as he sits at the dining table in their suite. "Lou— Oh my god! " Louis smiles down at him as Harry stares at the plate of food that's been placed in front of him.

Louis had banished Harry to the lobby for an hour while he prepared their dinner. He’d spent the whole time sitting at the bar sipping on a vodka cranberry, anxiously bouncing his leg against the foot rail and chewing at his nails as he thought about Louis setting fire to their suite and all their belongings inside.

Words fail him. The plate in front of him is like a work of art. Something he'd expect to be served in a five star restaurant. Louis has decorated the table with candles and flowers, and a carefully selected bottle of wine sits in an ice bucket at the centre. Louis sits down in his seat opposite him and picks up his wine to take a deep gulp, then relaxes back in his chair.

"I told you I could do it." He shrugs. Then gesturing towards Harry's plate, he picks his own fork up to start eating.

"I'll never doubt you again." Harry smiles, taking his first bite and moaning in satisfaction. 

Louis raises a brow at Harry and smirks. "Better than sex?" Louis asks with a wink.

“Nothing's better than sex anymore." Harry replies with his mouth full. "But this is definitely close."

They finish their dinner in near silence, enjoying it too much to speak. Louis clears their plates and returns from the kitchen a moment later with a bowl in each hand. "You made dessert too?" Harry swoons. Louis places a bowl of chocolate mousse with raspberries and whipped cream in front of Harry then sits down with his own.

"It’s the only other thing I know how to make." He laughs and digs his spoon in. 

Harry cleans his bowl, sucking the remnants from his spoon before he leans back in his chair, completely sated.

"Want to watch a movie?" Harry asks with a stretch, a yawn wracking his body.

“Are you sure you can make it through a movie, sleepyhead?" Louis asks in return, poking Harry's cheek.

They settle into the king-sized bed and put on The Matrix.   Harry feels drowsy the second his head hits the pillow. Louis chuckles as Harry's eyes flutter closed. He feels a kiss on his forehead before he's falling asleep, the opening credits still playing on the screen. 

~

Harry is pulled from a deep sleep by a strange noise. He blinks his eyes open, noticing the lights are out and the TV has been turned off. He checks his phone and sees it's almost three in the morning. Turning to Louis, he finally understands the sound that had disturbed him, and his eyes grew wide.

Louis appears to be deep in sleep, his eyes squeezed shut and mouth slightly agape as soft, involuntary moans escape him. With subconscious movements, his hips press rhythmically against the mattress. Harry watches, swallowing hard, as Louis seems to be lost in a particularly intense dream. He can’t help but hope that he is the subject of it. That hope quickly turns to certainty when Louis whimpers, " Oh, Harry ," into the pillow, his body arching forward in a breathless thrust.

Harry's cock begins to perk up in interest at the soft sounds escaping him. He takes a deep, steadying inhale before moving cautiously towards Louis. He doesn’t want to startle him awake, so he gently plants a tender kiss on his shoulder, then his neck, moving up to his jaw.

Louis' eyes begin to flutter open and lock onto Harry's eyes just centimetres from each other.
"Harry?” Louis says breathlessly. "I— Fuck ." 

"Are you alright?” Harry asks, trailing his finger slowly and softly down Louis' spine, feeling him shiver beneath him. Louis swallows audibly as he becomes more and more conscious. “Sounded like you were having a nightmare or something.” He plays coy. 

"It definitely wasn't a nightmare." Louis huffs, rubbing his hands over his face.

"No?" Harry asks, a hint of amusement in his tone. He leans back against the headboard, gently tugging Louis closer until he settles in his lap. Louis, with a soft sigh, wraps his legs around Harry's waist and lowers himself for a kiss.

A shuddering breath passes between them , their tongues tangling together and making Harry's head spin. Louis is still hard where his cock presses against Harry’s stomach, the remnants of his dream still lingering. 

Harry reaches up and holds Louis' neck, pulling him in closer to deepen the kiss. Louis moans at the feeling and rolls his hips forward, making Harry gasp when Louis’ arse grinds against his cock. Still holding Louis' throat, he leans down and trails kisses down his jaw toward his ear.

"What were you dreaming about, Lou?” He whispers into Louis’ ear and nips at his earlobe. The soft purrs coming from Louis' throat are driving him wild, vibrating against his fingertips and sending all his blood rushing south.

"You." Louis answers immediately, grinding down onto Harry again. Harry's stomach flips in anticipation. "Yeah? And what was I doing?" He asks. He grasps Louis arse and forces it down harder into his lap. They both groan out into the dark room. Louis pulls Harry closer into his chest, locking his legs around him tighter. "You were fucking me. Just like this." Louis says, rocking back and forward in a slow grind.

Harry's breath gets caught in his throat and he chokes a little in surprise. " Fuck ." He whispers. "Is that what you want?" Harry asks, tilting Louis' chin up so he can suck a bruise into his collarbone. Louis is nodding instantly, making Harry smirk into his skin.

"Please. I need that so bad, Harry." Louis chokes out, the words raw with desperation. The rough plea shatters Harry's control. In a frenzy, he hauls Louis up, stripping away the fabric of their clothes in a tangle of limbs. He lowers Louis back down, legs locking around his hips. He grabs for the lube in the bedside drawer, which he spreads liberally across his fingers.

"God, hurry up." Louis whines, making Harry laugh. 

"You're bossy even when you bottom, I see?" This earns him a bite to the shoulder as Louis groans out in frustration. Harry moans at the feeling and Louis’ eyes shoot up in surprise. 

“You like a little pain, do you?" He asks, brows raised.

“It would seem that way, yes." Harry admits as he starts trailing his slick fingers down Louis' crack.

Louis inhales deeply and buries his face in Harry's neck, leaving hot, wet kisses across his throat. He bites down on Harry's skin again when Harry starts to slowly press his finger in.

" Shit!” Louis gasps, throwing his head back. “Jesus, fuck. Holy shit, Harry." He curses as Harry draws his finger back out and sets a slow, teasing rhythm. Louis' hips immediately start rolling forward, chasing the feeling.

He leans down, grabbing onto Harry's hair and yanking his head back so he can crash their lips together in a filthy kiss. He bites down hard on Harry's lip and Harry hisses at the pain but his cock twitches and pre-come starts to drip out.

He adds a second finger and picks up the pace. Louis shudders in his arms, a slight pained look on his face that is gone as quickly as it came. Harry's skin is on fire with desire, sweat starting to bead on his chest and neck. Having Louis like this is something he's fantasised about when alone, and he can't believe it's actually happening.

"Please, Harry. Need your cock. Fucking please ." Louis begs. Harry moves to reach for a condom but Louis grabs his wrist. "Wanna feel you. Wanna feel you come inside me." He deeply whispers into Harry's ear, sending a shiver down his spine and Harry has to stop himself from blowing his load from those words alone.

He reaches for the lube, clicking it open and smoothing it over himself, relief washing over him at the contact. Louis arches slightly so Harry can position himself, but before he has a chance to push in, Louis is dropping slowly down. A moan tears from both their chests as Louis sits completely down flush in Harry's lap, their mouths meeting in a desperate kiss.

The air hangs heavy and humid around them as they catch their breath. Harry's hands moves in comforting strokes along Louis' thighs, while Louis presses soft kisses from Harry's shoulder to the sensitive skin of his neck.

"Feel so full. Oh my god, baby." He says breathlessly before circling his hips and throwing his head back with a stuttered groan.

Louis continues the agonisingly slow pace and Harry’s patience quickly snaps. He brings his knees up, planting his feet on the bed and starts to thrust up— slowly at first, meeting Louis movements.

" Fuck . Harder." Louis urges and Harry responds immediately. He grabs Louis' arse forcefully and pulls him downward as he thrusts up, snapping into him harder this time, then picking up the pace once he's sure Louis can take it.

The noises filling the room are a raw symphony of pure pleasure and Harry has never felt so alive. He has the most gorgeous man he's ever seen riding his cock and screaming his name. The world outside their room fades away, and he allows himself to get lost in the moment, completely and utterly consumed.

With a rough grip, Louis' fingers dig into his shoulders, then rake down his chest. Harry's head falls back, eyes glazed over, as a powerful moan tears from his throat, a sound that surpasses any he'd ever made.

"Fuck. Do it again. Harder." Harry growls out, voice rough. Louis immediately claws at Harry’s chest again, enough to break the skin. Harry's hands grips Louis arse and pulls him down harder, their skin slapping together loudly as Harry pounds into him. They both cry out in pleasure and Harry feels the tremors in Louis’ thighs as they clench around him.

" Harry — Baby, I'm.." Louis' words break apart in a desperate plea. "I'm gonna come." He squeezes his eyes shut, tilting his head back in surrender. Harry responds instantly, nipping at Louis' neck. A raw moan escapes Louis as he comes, the force of it spilling across Harry's stomach and chest, reaching upwards towards his neck.

Harry surrenders to the building pleasure, his release washing over him. Louis tightens around him almost painfully as Harry spills into him. He gasps, head thrown back, struggling to catch his breath in the aftermath.

Just as the edges of his high begin to fade, Louis leans in to kiss him passionately before bowing his head and carefully lapping up the traces of his release from Harry's neck. Holding it on his tongue, he moves in for another kiss, transferring his come into Harry’s mouth. Harry swallows it eagerly, kissing Louis back with equal fervour before pushing him back onto the bed and covering him with his own body.

He presses his forehead against Louis'. "That was fucking amazing." Harry whispers between their mouths. 

Louis huffs a laugh and tilts his chin up to kiss Harry's nose. "Definitely better than in my dreams."

With feeling returning to their limbs, they share a long, hot shower together before slipping back between the sheets, content to sleep through the remaining hours of the morning.

Chapter Text

When Harry blinks awake again, it’s around noon and Louis is pressed against his chest still fast asleep. Harry squirms in discomfort as his full bladder aches under the weight of Louis' arm. Slowly, he untangles himself and quietly slides out of the bed.

He quickly heads to the bathroom, sighing in relief as he empties his bladder, then he walks through the silent suite to the balcony. They have the most perfect view of the city below them, and a wave of pure happiness washes over him as he sinks into a chair, closing his eyes and basking in the sun's warmth against his face. 

He’s close to sleep again when he hears the door slowly creak open. "Morning." Louis rasps sleepily, rubbing his eye with the back of hand as he approaches. He leans down to kiss Harry's lips, then smiles down at him. There’s a pillow crease down his cheek and Harry quickly pulls him down to sit in his lap so he can kiss over the mark.

Louis leans heavily against Harry, resting his head on his shoulder. Harry raises a hand and rests it at the side of Louis' neck, softly stroking his cheek with his thumb. They sit in silence for a while, and Harry begins to think Louis has fallen asleep again.

"Last night was amazing, Harry.” He whispers against his throat. Harry feels the press of Louis' lips against his pulse. “All of it.” Harry looks down, watching Louis' fingers move lightly across his chest, sketching the shapes of his tattoos.

"It was." Harry admits quietly, a flush rising on his cheeks at the memory. "I mean it, Louis. I've never felt so good, so.. myself . It's you. You just make me feel so free, all the time." He adds with a nervous chuckle and Louis huffs a small laugh into Harry's neck, warming the skin.

This is all new territory for him. Past relationships have always been guarded, leaving him unable to express his true self. He's never experienced such ease and openness with another person. Never dared to expose his vulnerabilities, his desires and needs so freely. But with Louis, he’s secure in the knowledge that he will be supported, not judged. He’s never experienced that level of safety with anyone before.

When Louis finally lifts his head, he kisses Harry with a quiet insistence. It lingers, almost reverently, and Harry feels a current run through him with the weight of the unspoken words. Harry can feel it. Whatever Louis is trying to convey through his touch, Harry feels it, too.

~

"This place is fucking massive!" Louis whisper-shouts to Harry who chuckles quietly beside him. They decided to visit Le Louvre today for a few hours before heading out to meet a friend of Louis' who lives in the area.

They are nearing the end of the tour and both boys' feet are aching from the sheer amount of walking it takes to cover the entire building. Harry had really enjoyed it so far, his favourite the jewellery on display, from the ancient beads and crystals to the intricate pendants.

Now, Louis has spent an unusual amount of time contemplating the Raft of the Medusa . Despite his claim that art is "just a bunch of paint splatter on some fabric," the painting seems to evoke a flicker of emotion in him.

Harry wordlessly joins Louis' side and gently takes his hand. Louis doesn’t take his eyes off the painting, but squeezes Harry's hand and breathes out deeply.

"Alright?" Harry whispers, barely audible to not startle Louis from his train of thought.

Louis nods slowly, a tiny frown appearing on his otherwise delicate features. "Yeah." He breathes out. "I've just.." He starts as he slowly turns his head away from the painting and towards Harry. Harry is already looking at him with a gentle smile. "I've just never been so drawn to a piece of art before." He says, shaking his head slowly as if it will snap him out of his trace. “This piece is just so tragic and so dark and so—"

Harry gently turns Louis to face him. He places his hand on Louis' neck and rubs his thumb over the soft skin below his ear.

"Welcome to my life." Harry jokes softly, leaning in to press a kiss to Louis' cheek. "I once had a breakdown on a class trip to the Natural History Museum when I saw the display about Guy the Gorilla. "

Louis laughs quietly, thumbing over Harry's knuckles. "What's so sad about a gorilla?" Louis asks, kissing Harry's tiny pout at the memory.

"It was so sad. He was famous, but died during dental surgery. And he needed the dental surgery because zoo visitors were allowed to feed him sweets. Imagine dying because of candy. Poor Guy." Harry says sadly and Louis bites his lip to hold in his laugh.

"You're so bloody cute." He says, kissing Harry again. "Of course you would get upset over something like that."

"I love sweets." He whispers to himself, still pouting. "It could happen to any of us." He adds solemnly.

They leave shortly after and are met with an overcast sky, heavy with imminent rain.

They stroll hand in hand down the cobblestone streets until they find somewhere to stop for dinner. A small cafe that is also a bookstore catches their eyes just as a rumble of thunder sounds from above.

" Bienvenue !" A cheerful voice bellows from behind the counter. A portly old woman with a neat white bun and a colourful smock dress smiles brightly at them.

"Bonjour, une table pour deux s'il vous plaît?" The words roll effortlessly off Louis' tongue, and Harry wonders if he could get Louis to speak French to him next time they’re fooling around. He wouldn't even care if he was talking dirty— the sound of Louis' voice weaving through the language would be enough to drive him wild.

"Bien sûr! sot n'importe où!" She replies, gesturing to the almost empty room.

Harry scans the room, eyes drawn to the back walls lined with dark wood bookcases, overflowing with books of all genres. The rest of the walls are painted a deep, dark green, and dark wooden floors hold several comfy looking couches amongst neatly dressed tables and chairs.

Warm light comes from lantern chandeliers above giving the whole room a dark and cosy feel. Harry falls in love instantly.

"She said to take a seat anywhere." Louis leans in, gesturing for Harry to pick where to sit.

They decide on one of the brown leather couches by a window where they sit in silence for a while, enjoying the view of the gloomy weather outside. Rain trickles down the slightly fogged up glass giving a Wintery feel, even though it is the middle of Summer.

Louis breaks the comfortable silence. He lifts his head from where he rests against Harry's shoulder and kisses his cheek. "What do you want to eat?" He asks. "I'll order us something."

"I'm easy, surprise me." Harry shrugs and Louis gets up from his seat with a squeeze to Harry's knee.

The cafe's quiet atmosphere soothes Harry. Lost in the tranquility, he reaches for a book from a nearby shelf. It’s a French edition, its age evident in the faded red cover and the ornate gold lettering of the title.

His thumb traces the edges of the brittle pages as he flips through them , noting the publish date as 1831. Smiling to himself at the piece of history he holds in his hands, he reads a few words quietly to himself, even though he can’t understand any of them.

He considers the book's history, imagining the hands that have held it, the lives it has touched, and the journeys it has taken over the nearly two centuries since its publication.

It doesn’t matter what the book is called, or what it’s about, he has to have it. Louis returns a second later, balancing a tray of food on one arm and holding two mugs with the other.

Harry snaps out of his daze and promptly leans up to take the mugs from Louis and helps him lower the tray to the coffee table in front of them.

He presents the tea to Harry with a smile. "I brought pastries too. I know we've been living on them this whole trip, but honestly, can you beat a warm, fresh croissant?" A soft chuckle escapes him as he settles back down beside Harry, resuming their cozy position.

"What have you got there?" Louis asks before blowing against his mug. Harry picks the book up from his lap and smiles down at it, his finger tracing softly over the gold printed title.

"Ah, that's the original Hunchback of Notre Dame ." Louis says.

"Will you read me some?" Harry asks softly, looking at Louis.

They sit for what feels like hours, nibbling croissants and sipping endless mugs of tea. Louis effortlessly reads several chapters of the book in perfect fluent French, and they chat to the lady who runs the cafe as she weaves about the space. She is so enamoured by them that she gifts Harry the book, slapping his hand away when he offers to pay for it.

He blushingly accepts the gift, and sneaks a twenty in her tip jar when she has her back to them.

~

The bass from the club speakers pounds against Harry's ribs causing a tremor in his chest. Beneath his shoes, the sticky floor pulses with the music, sending a dull throb up his legs. He and Louis stand shoulder-to-shoulder at the crowded bar, swallowed by the noise and the press of bodies, waiting for a bartender to notice them.

"Luke said they're almost here." Louis shouts close to Harry's ear so he can hear him over the song, then pockets his phone. 

" They ?" Harry's brow furrows. Louis had only mentioned Luke joining them tonight.

"His girlfriend Chey was meant to be working but she finished early, so she’s going to join us as well." Harry nods, fiddling nervously with his buttons on his shirt, not completely comfortable meeting new people.

"She's a bit wild.” Louis continues, chuckling. “I’ve met her once before. She uh— she's fun, but wild." He adds with a smirk.

They finally get noticed by a bartender who finally makes his way over to them. They order two shots of vodka each, plus a beer to take the edge off.

"Starting without us?" A raspy voice shouts out from behind them. Louis practically leaps away from Harry, his expression shifting as he embraces a man Harry can only assume is Luke.

"Mate!" Louis laughs into the man's shoulder as they clap each other on the back. "It's been ages!"

"You must be Harry?” Luke grabs Harry's hand and pulls him in for a bro-hug. Harry stiffens at the sudden contact but manages to compose himself.

"Louis, you remember Chey?" Luke gestures to the woman behind him. Her long black waves cascade over her shoulders as she stands on tall black heels. A red dress with gold chain straps fits snugly to her petite frame.

Louis steps forward to give Chey a friendly hug and kisses both of her cheeks.

Louis pivots, voice still raised to battle the blaring music. "This is Harry." Harry smiles and offers a polite handshake.

They squeeze around a small table, knees bumping under the surface. Lost in their own world, Louis and Luke are soon engrossed in conversation, catching up on everything that has happened since they last saw each other.

Harry is grateful he’s had a few drinks already. He usually clams up in crowded places, especially around new people. Chey, however, doesn’t allow for silence, launching into a stream of conversation about her modeling career, her singing ambitions, and Luke's new album, which she is proudly featured on.

She downs several drinks in the hour or so it takes the others to snap out of their conversation and acknowledge them again.

"Want to dance, babe?" She yells across the table to Luke. 

He shakes his head. "Gonna need a few more before I start tearing up the dance floor." He winks at Harry as Louis smirks beside him.

"Louis?" She asks innocently, batting her lashes. 

“Sorry love, not much of a dancer." He says, taking a long gulp of his beer.

She turns to Harry with a hopeful glint in her eyes. She smiles excitedly at him as he playfully rolls his eyes and stands up from his chair. He reaches down and grabs her hand, gently pulling her from her seat and guiding her towards the dance floor.

"Hands where I can see them!" Luke shouts out to them as they weave their way through the crowd.

Harry is already uncomfortable in the club's thick, humid air. When Chey leans into him, her hips swaying rhythmically, a fresh wave of heat washes over him, not entirely unwelcome.

She places her hands over the back of his neck and leans in closer, tilting her head back and getting lost in the music.

Her hips move with a freedom that contrasts his own rigid posture, the bass pulsing in tune with his rapid pulse. He knows he shouldn't be feeling this way, but the alcohol dulls his inhibitions, and her beauty is an assault on his senses. He feels his body betraying him, responding to her proximity without his conscious consent.

He glances over to their table and spots Luke smiling as he and Louis watch on, chatting away. Chey turns her body, pressing her back to Harry's chest and grinding her hips back into his crotch. He sighs at the feeling as she leans her head back on his shoulder.

"You can put your hands on me if you want." She whispers into his ear. Harry inhales a sharp breath before looking back over to Louis who is watching him intently, a hard look on his face. His cheeks heat in embarrassment. 

"Um.. you're with Luke, right?" He asks with a small cough, unsure if he should pull away. She then lifts his hands and places them against her hip.

"He doesn't mind." She says teasingly. "In fact, he likes it."

Luke may like it, but Harry’s certain that Louis won’t. He dares to look back over to their table and sees Luke and Louis staring with a look that could melt steel. Then, in perfect synchronicity, they both subtly adjust themselves and throw back the rest of their drinks.

Is Louis enjoying this, too? Harry finds himself wondering just how much further he could push things. Because jealous Louis— that’s something else entirely.

He starts to loosen up, his body gently swaying to the music and to the rhythm Chey has set. He slides his hands up to her waist and back down again to squeeze her hips and pull her in closer. He hears her breath catch slightly as her arm comes up, her fingers tangling in his hair.

His touch is hesitant at first as he trails his fingertips up her body, gliding over the soft skin of her arms. Harry's eyes are glued to Louis, who stares back with a challenging heat. Luke watches Chey with the same kind of intensity.

Louis' mask of nonchalance wavers when Chey leans into Harry, a not-so-subtle press of her body against his. Harry feels an immediate physical reaction, and can’t deny his body's response, but it’s Louis' eyes, burning into him with a possessive heat, that truly sets him alight. His blood roars in his ears.

Closing his eyes, he allows the music to take over. He feels relaxed and uninhibited, the alcohol swimming through his veins.

He is suddenly snapped from his thoughts when Louis’ hand closes around his arm and pulls him down to whisper in his ear. His eyes shoot open just in time to see Chey traipsing back through the crowd before perching herself in Luke's lap at their table.

"Enjoying yourself?” Louis asks in a low growl. Harry detects a hint of bitterness in his voice, but his smirk gives away that he is anything but mad.

"I was, actually. Until you scared my dance partner away." Harry teases and Louis' eyes darken.

Louis suddenly grabs Harry's waist and firmly presses himself against him. "Did she make you hard, baby? As hard as you've made me." He hisses into Harry's ear as he rolls his cock against Harry's thigh to show him just how much he has affected him.

"So you like watching me dance with other people, then?" Harry asks, trying to keep his cool but he is insanely turned on by how possessive Louis is being.

"No." Louis murmurs, his breath hot against Harry's ear. "I just like watching you dance." Then, he nips sharply at Harry's lobe, eliciting a hiss that is half pain, half pleasure.

"Fuck." Harry groans as he closes his eyes and pulls Louis in closer against him, desperately seeking friction.

"Toilets. Now ." Louis demands and grabs Harry's hand, leading him through the crowd with an impressive speed.

Harry’s skin prickles with anticipation as his cock presses painfully against his tight jeans. Louis throws the bathroom door open and pushes Harry into a stall, locking the door behind him before shoving Harry firmly against the back of the door.

Looking down at Louis, Harry can’t suppress a wide smile. He’s aware he's pushed Louis' boundaries, and a part of him feels a flicker of guilt, but the overwhelming feeling is one of pure, unadulterated happiness.

"Stop smiling, you shit." Louis warns, but Harry can see he is biting back his own smirk.

Harry gnaws on his lip, barely suppressing a giggle and struggling to maintain a serious expression as he humours Louis.

Louis finally brings his lips up to Harry's neck, kissing hotly across his sweaty skin. Harry leans his head back to look at the peeling paint on the ceiling. He had wanted to get Louis worked up and that's exactly what has happened.

"Did you like having her rubbing up against you?” He snaps, sucking hard against Harry’s throat. “I don't like sharing, Harry." He says firmly as he slides his hands down Harry’s body and firmly squeezes his arse.

Harry moans softly at the feeling. "I liked your eyes on me." He answers, his eyes fluttering closed. "That's what got me hard as fuck. Not her."

Louis reaches his hand down to tug at the button of Harry's jeans before he’s dropping to his knees in front of him.

"That's right. I’m the only one who can make you feel this good, aren’t I. The only one who gets you shaking and begging. Could have you screaming out so loud that the whole city will know my name. Could I?” 

“Yes!” Harry shouts and Louis frees his cock and immediately swallows it down. He works him hard and fast without giving Harry a chance to get his head around what is happening.

The unexpected feeling washes over him. He grips the door frame until his knuckles turn white, desperate to stop his legs from collapsing beneath him.

Louis takes control, his movements deliberate and demanding. He pulls back, his cock almost slipping from between his lips before he’s slamming all the way back down to the hilt. Harry can feel himself curling down Louis' throat each time he takes him in.

His legs start to shake and Louis grips his hip harshly, pinning him steadily against the door.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck !" Harry throws his head back and shouts, completely uncaring of who might be listening. 

Sweat starts to sting his eyes as it drips down his temple, the warm air of the bathroom making it hard to catch his breath.

"Fuck, Lou. I’m gonna come." He chokes and then immediately releases into Louis' mouth. Louis swallows down every drop and slows his sucks as he works Harry through his orgasm.

Harry breathes heavily, head spinning as he grips at the door with both hands. He closes his eyes tightly and briefly registers Louis doing his pants back up.

The world swims back into focus. He blinks, his gaze dropping to Louis. A smug, satisfied smirk plays on Louis' lips.

“Oh my fucking god, Lou." Harry pants out, his lungs burning as he tries to get a full breath.

"I’m not sure God wants any part of that." Louis jokes and they hear a deep voice cheer from the door of the restroom. Harry lets go of the door and slaps his hand over his mouth looking wide eyed at Louis.

A laugh bubbles from Louis as he reaches past Harry, the stall door clicking open before Harry can even react. With a confident stride, Louis emerges into the mensroom, where three men stand side-by-side at the urinals, a knowing look on their faces. 

Harry feels heat creep up his neck and into his cheeks, certain his face has turned bright red.

Avoiding eye contact with the men, he grabs Louis' awaiting hand and allows himself to be steered back into the club, ignoring the cheers of praise they send to Louis on their way out.

Louis' walk has taken on a subtly arrogant swagger as they cross the room. His hand rests possessively against the small of Harry's back, guiding him firmly toward their table.

Luke and Cheyare no longer at the table, but Harry spots them across the room on the dance floor, pressed together closely, lost in each other.

He looks back at Louis who is leaning back in his chair with a teasing smirk.

Despite the lingering heat of embarrassment, Harry can’t suppress his smirk. His voice holds a touch of defiance as he asks, "Was that funny to you?"

"Yes." Louis replies instantly. He sits back in his chair and downs the remainder of his drink, shaking his head with a fond smile.

After saying a drawn out goodbye to Louis’ friends, they make their way back to their hotel. 

Harry stumbles towards the bed and collapses, still dressed, his face sinking into the plush pillow. A soft laugh escapes Louis as he carefully undresses Harry and tucks him beneath the warmth of the blankets.

"You alright, love?" Louis asks and Harry can't see him in the dark room, but hears the soft smile in his voice.

Harry fights to stay awake. A quiet hum leaves  him and despite his exhaustion, the smile on his face doesn’t disappear.

He feels the mattress dip slightly as Louis climbs in beside him, a comforting hand rubbing gently across his back and across his shoulders. A soft kiss to his shoulder blade is all it takes to send him to sleep, a smile still on his face.

Chapter Text

"Baby.."

"Wake up, my baby."

The haze begins to lift from Harry’s mind as he’s coaxed into consciousness by Louis' whispered voice, the soft tone floating through the air and reaching Harry’s ears where he lays buried under the warm sheets of their bed. He feels gentle fingers gliding faintly across the lines of his collar bones, tracing his tattoos and mapping the curves of his skin.

Louis grazes a kiss against his shoulder. The contrast of soft lips and rough stubble sending a shiver down Harry’s spine. 

He doesn't want to wake up. He likes it here in a state of semi-awareness. A place where stress and anxiety can’t reach him. Where all he feels is warm, and happy, and loved. 

He scrunches his nose slightly and frowns as the edges of sleep finally fray and he’s pulled back into reality. He squints against the harsh morning light, his nose wrinkling in a grimace. The discomfort quickly dissipates at the sight of Louis, who is looking down at him with a warm smile.

Harry can’t stop the beaming smile from taking over his face. The sight of it seems to amplify Louis' own smile, making it even brighter.

Harry is filled with contentment at the idea of waking up to Louis’ smile every day, for the rest of his life. He would never ask for anything more.

"Good morning, my love." Louis whispers before leaning down and connecting their lips in a soft, sleep-hazy kiss.

A rush of warmth prickles his skin as Louis' fingers brush so lightly against his jawline. His heart begins to beat a little faster, and he feels it against his ribcage as though it’s trying to leap from his chest. 

When Louis' eyes lift to meet his, the carefully constructed wall around Harry's heart crumbles. The words he'd been fighting to contain, hiding them away until he was certain Louis was ready to hear them, now surge upward and spill from his mouth.

"Louis, I love you."

Louis doesn't even flinch at the words. There's no panic flitting across his face like Harry had half expected. No surprised frown, or wide eyes. No leaping off the bed and out the door in a mad rush.

He just looks at Harry with adoration. A soft smile playing on his lips, and his eyes reflecting everything he feels. 

The worry must be clear on Harry's face at the slip of the monumental words, because Louis leans down and kisses him, trying to ease his anxiety.

A low chuckle bubbles from Louis, followed by him burrowing his face into Harry's neck. He exhales, the breath a soft sigh of what sounds like pure relief.

"Thank god." Louis whispers quietly, as if to himself. He draws back slightly, his eyes locking with Harry's. "I love you, too." He murmurs, punctuating his words with a firm kiss to Harry's lips. They both smile hopelessly into the kiss making it hard to keep any kind of rhythm.

~

Another hour slips by, filled with drowsy kisses and whispered "I love yous” as they stay tangled beneath the sheets. They then take a slow, lazy shower where they tentatively wash every inch of each other's skin before they finally pack up and leave for home.

Harry's first priority is getting Louis to London so he can see his sister, Lottie. Lottie has been busy gathering some of Louis' things from their parents' home and is planning to meet them that afternoon, bringing with her whatever she could salvage.

It's bittersweet, when they finally climb into the car for the final stretch. For two weeks, they've existed in their own private world, and Harry has loved spending every moment with Louis, but he isn’t naive, he knows that the return to reality will likely chip away at the magic they've created.

He knows they still have a lot to learn about each other, that their connection is still in its early stages. Louis hasn’t yet witnessed Harry grapple with the pressures of exam season, the irritable haze of caffeine-fueled stress, or the debilitating effects of an anxiety attack. Harry worries whether Louis will still want him when the open roads and carefree moments give way to the everyday struggles of his life.

Harry’s mind spirals, painting terrifying scenarios. What if Louis' parents give him a chance to go back to them? What if all Louis has to do is let Harry go and he'll be welcomed back into their home and their lives? Louis loves him, Harry knows that now, but family comes first and Harry knows, with a sinking heart, that he will understand if Louis chooses them.

"Are you going to see your parents?" He blurts out, the question a clumsy attempt to derail his racing thoughts. Morning traffic cloggs the motorway just outside the city, each stop and start amplifying Harry’s restlessness.

Harry's stomach drops as Louis turns, a faint frown creasing his forehead. He instantly wishes he'd kept quiet. He never wants to be the reason Louis isn’t smiling.

"I don't think so." Louis answers and turns back to face the road as the traffic creeps forward. "I mean, they wouldn't want to see me anyway."

A shadow passes over his face, leaving a forlorn expression in its wake. Harry wants to reach out, to take back the words, instead he reaches over the console and rests his palm on Louis’ thigh. 

"You get to see your sister though, you must be excited about that?" Harry holds his breath, relief flooding him when a tiny smile touches Louis' lips.

"Yeah. I miss her a lot." Louis admits, his voice tinged with sadness. "My parents are hosting their annual charity event tonight." He pauses, then adds. "If I'm quick, I might be able to slip over to the house and see my siblings. It could very well be my last chance, and I can't bear the thought of them thinking I abandoned them by choice. I don't want them to hate me."

"Is that a good idea?" Harry asks carefully. "I mean, what if they found out? What would happen?"

"I'm sure they wouldn't hesitate to call the police if I set foot on their property. They likely have staff watching for me. They seem to believe I'm planning to steal back my car or my mother's jewellery." He rolls his eyes, a short, humourless laugh escaping him. "Apparently, their logic is that being gay makes you a criminal."

The thought of parents so readily abandoning their own child is incomprehensible to Harry. A heavy silence falls between them. Harry won’t push Louis to talk about it further if he doesn’t want to. Whatever Louis chooses to do, Harry will be there, unwavering in his support.

The traffic finally eases as they get further from the city and the roads open up to rolling hills and grassy paddocks.

"Did you have a good time last night?" Louis asks quietly after a while and Harry breaks out in a bright smile.

"Which part? The dancing? The drinking? The blowjob in the mensroom? It was all pretty good."

Louis smirks over at Harry who is grinning at the memory.

"I don't like other people touching you." Louis says firmly. But then, heat creeps into his tone. "But, fuck— you are so hot when you dance. Couldn’t take my eyes off you." He trails off, seeming to be replaying the events of last night.

Louis takes a shaky breath, and Harry wonders what he might be thinking as Louis forces his attention back to the road.

"You're so hot when you get all possessive, Lou. You have no idea. I didn't want her hands on me, not for a second. I don't want anyone else's hands on me ever again. But fuck, if that's the reaction I get when I do—" Harry throws his head back against the headrest, eyes squeezing shut, willing the ache in his cock to subside.

Then realisation dawns on him. "Wait a minute.”  He says, a slight frown creasing his brow. "Last night.. you didn't get anything back. You took care of me, and then we just went to sleep." Harry glances at Louis, who shifts uncomfortably in his seat, adjusting his jeans. Harry notices the obvious bulge pressing against the denim.

The silence is thick. Louis' grip tightens on the steering wheel, his attention laser-focused on the road ahead as if keeping the car on the road requires every ounce of his mental energy.

Harry's gaze locks on Louis, watching his expression as his hand moves higher up Louis' thigh, the pressure of his grip increasing slightly.

Louis' sudden, sharp inhale is the exact reaction he'd been aiming for.

Louis keeps his gaze fixed on the road. "Harry.” He says, his voice a low, firm warning.

"Everything alright?" Harry asks, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Louis shoots him a warning look, but his expression quickly shifts, morphing into barely-concealed arousal as Harry's hand slides up higher to rest over the bulge in Louis' jeans.

"Poor baby. So, so hard." Harry whispers, his voice a low hum. Louis shivers as Harry's hand tentatively brushes against his cock.

Louis shifts restlessly, his hips rising in a silent plea for more pressure, but Harry moves his hand away and goes back to stroking Louis' thigh.

"Fucking hell, Harry." Louis groans in frustration.

"I don't want to distract you." He says, blinking innocently. Louis' glare makes it clear he isn’t buying Harry’s act.

"You won't.. fuck, Harry, please." Louis pleads, his voice thick with desperation. Harry can’t help the moan that escapes him, the sound of Louis begging is unbearably hot. Arousal courses through him, his own cock hardening in response.

Harry undoes the button on Louis' jeans and slowly lowers the zipper. Louis raises his hips slightly, allowing Harry to ease his jeans down, revealing his prominent erection.

Harry's hand gently closes around Louis, giving home the relief he so clearly needs. A soft sigh drifts from Louis' lips, his eyes fluttering closed in contentment.

Harry yanks his hand back, startling Louis and causing his eyes to snap open again before fixing on Harry with a mixture of confusion and annoyance.

"Keep your eyes on the road, or I’m not going to touch you." Harry warns, and Louis looks back to the road like he’d completely forgotten he had been driving. "I'll keep going if you promise to concentrate." Harry adds with a playful warning in his tone. He wasn’t about to die because he can’t keep his hands to himself. 

Louis' head bobs in an immediate, frantic nod. "I will, I will. Fuck. Please, Harry." He asks, his knuckles white as he grips the steering wheel. His gaze remains fixed on the straight , empty stretch of road ahead. 

Harry hand returns to Louis’ cock, firmly squeezing it through the fabric of his boxers, keenly watching for Louis' reaction. His breathing picks up and he gasps slightly at the contact, but his eyes remain sternly on the road.

Harry rewards him by lowering his underwear and taking his bare cock into his hand. Louis moans at the skin on skin contact and bucks his hips up in pleasure. “Jesus, Harry. That feels fucking amazing." He groans out as Harry starts a rhythmic pace with his hand.

He can feel Louis twitching in his grasp, see how tightly he's gripping the steering wheel and he knows it's taking all his self control not to look down at where Harry is working him towards the edge.

"So good, baby." Louis mutters under his breath. "So fucking good."

Harry stares, mesmerised, as Louis safely navigates the road. He knows for a fact that they would be in a ditch by now if the roles were reversed. 

"Do you want my mouth?" Harry suddenly asks and Louis' eyes roll back before he stops himself.

"What kind of question is that? Always assume that I want your mouth. I'm literally never not going to want that." He huffs a breathy laugh and Harry grins proudly.

He pulls his seatbelt looser so he can lean over the console. He situates himself comfortably before taking Louis back in his hand.

Louis' breath comes out in short, sharp pants as Harry leans closer and takes his tip in his mouth. Teasingly, he licks at the slit as he slowly strokes the rest of the shaft.

"God. Please, baby. Please, please, fucking please." He grits out manically.

Harry complies, swallowing Louis' now dripping cock whole. The uninhibited moan from Louis sparks Harry's own arousal, and he has to lower his free hand to press his palm firmly against his jeans for some sort of relief.

He works Louis hard and fast, taking him deep into his mouth before expertly sucking back up to the tip, where he uses his tongue to sensually circle the sensitive head.

"Fuck fuck fuck!" Louis chants, hitting the brakes hard. The car swerves off the asphalt and onto a rough patch of gravel near a farm gate.

When the car is at a complete stop, Louis releases his grip on the steering wheel and tangles his fingers into Harry's hair, fingernails grazing his scalp as he guides Harry faster. Harry releases a needy moan, quickly undoing his trousers and taking his cock in his hand, pumping himself rough and fast.

Just as Harry is about to pull off and warn Louis that he's close, Louis thrusts upward and causes him to gag. The dizzying feeling has him suddenly coming into his hand, a muffled whine escaping as he continues to work Louis towards his own release.

The feeling of Harry’s throat constricting around him sends Louis hurtling off the edge, and with a tight grip in Harry’s hair— sending a new wave of pleasure through his body, Louis is coming down Harry’s throat with a choked gasp.

Harry pulls off with a gasped breath, fighting to fill his lungs as Louis supports his head securely in his lap. Once he’s regained his composure, he smiles up at Louis brightly before pulling himself back into his own seat.

Eventually, Louis’ gaze finds Harry's and his face settles into a satisfied smirk. "You're amazing." He chuckles, bringing a hand up to cradle Harry’s jaw as his chest heaves. "God, I love you." He adds dreamily, then leans over to kiss Harry’s lips.

His lips still tingle from sucking Louis so thoroughly, and he barely feels the firm nip Louis gives to his lower lip as the kiss breaks away.

“I love you so much.” Harry replies and smiles into the next kiss. 

They take a moment to gather themselves before Harry takes over driving to their next stop. The ferry.

~

The warm sun blares down on their skin as they lay in the quiet of the sun-deck. They're about halfway across the channel towards England, wispy white clouds floating across the seemingly endless sky as they listen to the waves crash against the hull.

"You know.” Harry says, breaking through the peaceful silence. “This is where I first saw you.” His hand strokes across Louis' lower back, tracing the skin beneath his T-shirt. They're laying on their stomachs, side-by-side, lazily dozing as they soak up the final moments of their adventure.

Louis smiles, but he doesn't open his eyes. His head is pillowed by one arm, while the other reaches out to absently toy with Harry's hair. The soft scratching against Harry's scalp coaxes a genuine purr, making Louis chuckle.

"It feels like so long ago now. We've already been through so much." Louis replies, a picture of tranquility. Harry recalls the first time he'd seen him— a sad, bleary-eyed figure huddled against the railing with a cigarette. 

"I'm so happy I met you, Lou." Harry murmurs, finally raising his head. He leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss to Louis' forehead. The soft touch startles Louis, causing one eye to flutter open, squinting against the bright sun.

Harry chuckles, watching Louis' nose wrinkle adorably in protest against the light. It takes a moment for Louis' mind to catch up, but the look he gives Harry when it finally does is priceless.

Nobody had ever looked at him this way before— with pure love and adoration. And Harry hopes nobody else ever will. All he wants is Louis. 

"Harry, I honestly don't know where I'd be without you. That day you stopped for me.. you changed everything. I was a mess, a complete stranger and you had no reason to trust me. You could have driven right past. But you didn't. You saw someone in need and offered help without a second thought. I love you for so many reasons Harry, but your kind heart is one of my favourite things."

Despite the sting in his eyes, a flood of happiness bubbles over and Harry can’t stop his wide smile.

"You're good, Harry." Louis murmurs, drawing closer to kiss him. "So incredibly good. You're a better person than I am or probably ever will ever be. But you make me want to try, at least, to be a better version of myself, just for you."

Harry doesn't know what to say, so he doesn't say anything. He just takes Louis into his arms and pulls him as close as possible, then kisses him deeply as the boat gently rocks them with the rhythm of the waves.

They reach the shores of England a short time later, both tired from their travels, the exhaustion of the last two weeks crashing down on them at once.

Harry drives them off the boat and they head towards London. It's late afternoon and Louis is due to meet his sister at 6pm.

"Are you excited to be back?" Louis asks. Harry's answering grin stretches wide. He's desperately missed his mum. Beyond that, he’s buzzing to see Niall, and even more excited to finally introduce them both to Louis. He’s looking forward to lazy summer days at his mum's house with Louis, helping out at her shop, and late nights at the town's only pub with Niall.

Most of all, he's thrilled to finally be working towards a real future. It's a future he couldn't even imagine before Louis entered his life. He'd been stuck in a rut, doing just enough to coast by, completely without direction. But now everything is different. He has dreams, a partner in crime, and the promise of a life filled with love and happiness, always with Louis at his side.

"I'm excited to start our lives." Harry answers, glancing at Louis. Louis keeps his eyes fixed in his lap, but he smiles widely and nods his agreement.

After careful direction from Louis, Harry is soon pulling the car up to an enormous property on the outskirts of the city.

Lottie had reassured Louis that their parents were gone and wouldn’t find out about his visit. As they pull into the driveway, Harry feels the sweat on Louis’ palms as he clung tightly to Harry’s over the console. He can hear Louis’ rapid breathing and see the ashen colour of his face.

"Do you want me to come with you?" Harry asks carefully, not wanting to rush him. 

Louis shakes his head. “I'm gonna be in and out quickly, I promise. I just want to kiss them all goodbye and grab my stuff."

"You don't have to rush, Lou." Harry assures as he rubs his thumb along the back of Louis' trembling hand. "Take as long as you need. I'll be here waiting for as long as you want."

Louis smiles softly. "Thank you, love. I won't stay long though. I feel like the longer I'm in there the harder it will be to leave them."

Harry gives a sad nod, and their hands slowly separate as Louis opens his door and steps out. He watches intently as Louis walks up the long, twisting driveway. As he does, a stunning blonde girl bursts out of the front door to greet him, wrapping him up tightly in her arms. Following closely behind is another girl with brown hair, who envelops both of them in a tight hug.

Harry is too far away to decipher what they are saying, but he sees a bright smile on Louis’ face despite the tears shining in his eyes. The siblings linger for a few minutes before guiding Louis to the house and ushering him through the front door, shutting it behind them.

~

As Harry drives, he casts a cautious glance at Louis. His head leans against the cold glass of the passenger window, which is fogged and dampened by his warm breath mingling with the relentless rain outside.

Darkness has now settled in, and the rain had started to fall shortly after Louis vanished into the enormous house he used to call home. It seemed like a bad omen, as Harry remained in the car, anxiously waiting for almost an hour for Louis to return.

When Louis finally emerged, he didn’t rush to escape the rain, instead, he walked slowly, two duffel bags hanging from his shoulders, a large box held tightly in his arms, and a profoundly sad expression on his beautiful face. Harry quickly exited the car and helped him load his things into the backseat before Louis settled into the passenger seat without saying a word.

It’s hard to distinguish Louis' tears from the drops of rain that fall down his skin, but the redness in his eyes and the downturn of his lips make it obvious that it is a mix of both.

It’s an eerie echo of the Louis Harry had met two weeks before— lost, alone, soaked to the bone, and utterly heartbroken. The only difference now is that he isn’t alone this time. And Harry is going to do everything he can to help him mend his broken heart.

Harry hadn’t known what to say when Louis slumped into his seat, so he reached across to take Louis' hand, bringing it to his lips to softly kiss his palm. He felt Louis relax slightly, before he closed his eyes and rested his head against the glass, and that's how he has been since. For three hours, no words have passed between them as they drive away from his family home, likely for the last time.

The rain has finally stopped as they arrive at Harry's mother's house. The air is misty and humid and it is nearly midnight. Anne had told Harry she would be sleeping, and to just let themselves in. That they would all catch up in the morning. 

Harry pulls the car in the driveway next to his mum's car, puts it in park and turns off the rumbling engine. Louis makes no move from his place against the window and Harry considers that he might have fallen asleep.

"Lou." Harry says quietly, and Louis shifts at the sound of his name. "Baby, we’re home." He adds as he reaches across the console to lightly rub a hand on Louis' leg.

Louis eventually raises his head, turning and stretching in his chair with a quiet groan. This tired, defeated figure is so far removed from the Louis Harry has come to know, that it leaves his heart aching. 

"What do you need?" Harry asks tentatively, his voice barely a whisper. He isn’t even sure he could do anything, but the urge to lift even a fraction of Louis' crushing sadness is overwhelming. Louis has just said goodbye to his entire family for possibly the last time, how could Harry possibly ease that kind of pain?

Louis exhales deeply. "I just need to sleep.” He answers, his voice flat and eyes fixed away from Harry as he fumbles for the door handle. Harry climbs out his own door and grabs what they need from the car before catching up to Louis at the front steps, using the key under a pot to let them into the house.

Harry sighs in relief at the feeling of being home. It’s quiet, and his body relaxes as he takes in the familiar surroundings. He drops their bags at the bottom of the stairs and kicks off his shoes. 

Louis comes up behind him and wraps his arms around his waist, resting his head between Harry's shoulder blades.

"I'm sorry, baby." He whispers, so quietly Harry  almost doesn’t hear him over the crackle of the fire.

Harry turns in his arms and gently tilts Louis' chin to meet his eyes. "There's no need for apologies, my love.” Harry reassures him softly. "I can see how much this is hurting you, Lou. You are allowed to feel everything you're feeling. Don't apologise for it."

He leans down and kisses Louis’  cheekbone before pulling him into a comforting hug.

"Let's go to bed, yeah?" Harry says before picking up their bags and leading Louis upstairs.

Two cats are already settled on his bed, with a third sprawled on the rug. He chuckles, amused by how quickly they have claimed his room, but doesn’t bother to shoo them away. After taking off their jeans and changing into comfortable clothes, they climb into Harry's childhood bed.

Louis barely waits for Harry to even lie down before he is crowding him, pressing in firmly against his chest, tugging him closer. Face to face, a breath away, they lie with their legs and feet a jumbled mess under the thin blanket.

Harry swipes a tear from Louis' cheek when he feels the dampness drip down. He kisses him softly against his temple, hoping to heal his hurt even just a little bit.

“I love you, Lou. I’ve got you.” He whispers and Louis' quiet sob cracks his heart in two. 

Harry holds Louis close, fingertips tracing patterns on his arm, patiently waiting for his breathing to even out before allowing himself to drift to sleep.

He keeps the gentle touches against the warm skin for as long as he physically can before he's pulled into the darkness of a deep, peaceful sleep. The security of his own bed and the warmth of the man he loves beside him wraps him in a comfort that feels endless.

Chapter Text

"Could you please hand me a box of bags from the back, love?" Anne shouts from the front of the store to Louis, who is busy unpacking the stock delivery in the backroom. Louis awkwardly maneuvers through the door, balancing a heavy cardboard box under his arm as he makes his way to Anne.

Harry watches the exchange with a smile while seated at the register, his computer open as he reviews his coursework in preparation for his final year at university.

It has been five weeks since the pair returned to Holmes Chapel, and Louis is truly thriving again. They help out at Anne's shop nearly every day, and Anne has been so impressed with Louis' efforts that she has decided to officially hire him for the summer.

Although Harry helps out now and then, he mostly visits to be with the two of them as he coordinates his housing and schedules for the next semester. 

Louis has just received approval for his application and will be attending classes as he pursues his goal of becoming a foreign language teacher.

Together, they decided to rent their own apartment close to the university rather than staying in campus housing. Harry is thrilled about finally living with Louis, even though they've technically shared a home since the moment they met.

They have applied to a few places so far, but the competition is fierce due to the prime area. Each property they’ve been interested in has been taken almost immediately.

Louis turns back toward the stockroom to finish his work, the end of the day approaching. Harry always loves him, but there is something especially endearing about Louis when he is tired. Right now his hair is endearingly messy, his cheeks flushed, and his voice a low rumble from hours of charming their customers.

"You're staring." Louis says, his lips threatening to quirk up as he walks over to the register. 

"Can you blame me?" Harry replies with a wink. Louis puts his hands on Harry's shoulders from behind and leans in to kiss his temple. Harry closes the tabs on his screen and swivels in his chair to pull Louis between his knees. 

"Any word on that place we looked at last week?" Louis asks, a flicker of hope in his voice despite the string of rejections.

This place had been different from all the others. It’s a little further from the university than they had wanted, meaning they'll have to take the train instead of walking. However, neither of them mind the compromise.

Seeing the pure joy light up Louis' eyes as they pulled up for the inspection, Harry realised the lengths he would go to for Louis' happiness. He'd compromise on everything he wanted and needed just to see Louis smile like that.

The exterior was painted a sky blue, nestled between identical townhouses, one painted pale pink to the left and the other a rich cream to the right. The street was quiet, shaded with cherry blossom trees and they had both fallen in love the minute they stepped through the door.

Inside it had polished hardwood floors which shone under the sunlight pouring through the bay windows. There was a living space to the right side of the entryway and a classic kitchen to the other. A laundry room and washroom were tucked down a small hallway at the back of the house.

Behind the kitchen led to a small wooden deck and a grassy backyard, bordered with rose bushes with a pear tree in the centre.

A vintage staircase in the entry way led up to two bedrooms, the main with an en-suite and huge closet, and a guest bathroom. A third floor loft had a small room overlooking the quaint street that they could convert into an office or sitting space.

They had inspected the townhouse the week before in near silence, basking in the vintage touches to the modern updates.

It was a little over their intended rental budget, but Harry couldn't possibly say no to the gleam in Louis' eye after having seen it. Nothing else was going to be able to compete with that house.

It was everything they both wanted and more.

Harry brings his laptop screen back to life and opens the bookmarked tab that takes him to the real estate ad for the rental listing.

When the photo of the house loads on the screen, it is marked with a large red "SOLD" banner. Harry's gaze shifts to Louis, watching the disappointment wash over his face, the moment his hopes for the house seem to vanish.

"I don't understand.” Louis says, eyes flitting across the page as if it holds the answers.
"It wasn't even for sale, it was a rental." He states as Harry swivels in his chair to face him.

"I'm sorry, love. We'll find something else, something better." Harry pulls Louis down into his arms, kissing the side of his head. Louis buries his face in Harry's neck and sighs heavily.

Harry should have felt bad, but he doesn’t , not when he is the one who has actually bought it.

~

"Where are we going? I’ve been on my feet all day, Harry. I’m tired.” Louis grumbles, his feet heavy and slow as he trudges down the footpath in the direction of Harry's car.

"We're going for dinner. Want to take you somewhere special." Harry smiles brightly at Louis who just scowls at him, the clear exhaustion on his face makes Harry giggle. 

Harry had sprung their dinner plans on Louis just as they’d closed up the shop and Anne had waved them goodbye. Louis had been confused about why they weren’t just going home with her, and hadn’t been thrilled about the idea of going out when he was still nursing the hurt of losing their dream home. 

Harry opens Louis’ door who climbs in with a huff. Harry tries not to laugh at Louis' bad mood. He has gotten used to Louis being pouty and short tempered like a stroppy child on occasion. To some people it might have been annoying but instead, Harry finds it endearing and adorable.

They drive to Manchester and Harry parks at a restaurant they've been to a couple of times in the weeks they've been back.

"Hey.” Harry says as he turns to face Louis. Louis’ glare softens at Harry's gentle voice and he even gives Harry a tired smile.

"I'm sorry, baby.” He sighs. “I'm just tired from work and I'm disappointed about the house. I don't mean to take it out on you." He takes Harry's hand and kisses his knuckles. Harry smiles back lovingly.

"I know, Lou.” Harry says. "I just wanted to get you out for a bit, cheer you up. Besides, I know how much you love their cheesy bread." A short chuckle escapes Louis, and a wave of relief washes over Harry. Even a small smile is a victory in pulling Louis from his somber mood.

Inside, they are shown to their table. Harry, having called ahead earlier, had ensured they got their usual spot on the terrace with its city view.

Sitting down, Louis picks up the menu. Harry can hear his stomach grumbling from across the table. “I'm fucking starving." He mutters under his breath. 

Harry chuckles as the waiter approaches their table, notepad in hand. "Can I get you gentlemen something to drink?" He asks with a friendly smile, pen poised over the page.

Louis opens his mouth to speak but Harry steamrolls right over him. "We'll have a bottle of Cristal, please. We're celebrating." He says with a radiant smile.

Louis' mouth drops open and his eyes widened in surprise. "Harry, Jesus. That’s a three hundred pound bottle of champagne!" He whisper-yells, looking wide eyed at Harry over the table. 

The waiter smirks as he jots down Harry's order, scurrying off to leave them alone again. "Harry, what the fuck? What are we even celebrating?" His voice raises an octave higher as he tries to figure out what was going on.

"I got you a present." Harry says, a smug smile playing on his lips. Just then, the waiter returns with their champagne. The cork pops with a satisfying sound as the waiter eagerly pours two glasses before settling the bottle in an ice bucket and quickly departing.

Louis's brow furrows in confusion. His lips move in a silent flail, trying to form words that won’t come. After a minute of silence, his voice finally breaks through. "What on earth could you have gotten me that warrants such an expensive bottle of champagne?"

Harry dips into his back pocket, lifting his hip slightly, and extracts a small black velvet box. He holds it out to Louis, whose eyes widen even more.

Harry laughs out at Louis' expression. "Don't panic. It’s not a bloody proposal." Harry reassures him. He thinks he detects a fleeting hint of disappointment on Louis' face before a deeper confusion settles in.

"Open it." Harry urges, a nervous grin playing at his lips. He slides the box across the table towards Louis. Louis picks it up with caution, giving it a tentative shake. A look of bewildered wonder spreads across his face as he seems to wrestle with the mystery of the box, clearly hesitant to actually see what’s inside.

"Jesus, Louis, will you just bloody open the damn thing?" Harry's voice is tight with barely contained excitement as it bursts out. Louis, already nervous, startles at the shout, his grip loosening on the box which tumbles to the floor with a clatter.

Their laughter fills the space and Harry feels a little bad for his outburst, so he climbs from his chair to pick it up. Still on his knees in front of Louis, he presents the box again.

Louis takes the box, and this time he doesn't hesitate to open it. He looks curiously from the contents to Harry's beaming face before reaching in to pick it up, holding it in front of his face to inspect it.

A shiny silver key dangles from his finger, a solid metal Eiffel Tower keychain attached to it. One Harry had bought on the first day he and Louis had met.

"I bought you a house.” Harry announces into the silence, as though it is the most natural thing in the world. Like he just handed over a casual gift like flowers or chocolates, not a house.

A sharp inhale escapes Louis as he looks at Harry, his eyes immediately glistening with tears. His gaze is wide and vulnerable. “Is this—“ He begins, his voice cracking, the words catching in his throat.

Harry nods excitedly. " Our house."

Louis’ chair scrapes back as he suddenly drops to his knees before Harry, pulling him into his arms. "Harry, you're crazy." Louis laughs through his tears. "You don't just buy someone an entire house."

Harry smiles, his own tears freely falling as he pulls Louis into his lap, kissing his face all over. "You're not just someone , Lou. You're everything ." He whispers, and Louis crashes their lips together.

“Do you like it?" Harry asks between kisses.

Louis shakes his head in disbelief. "Of course I like it! Harry, I fucking love it! I fucking love you ." Louis says, pressing a firm kiss to Harry's lips.

Lost in their own world, they don’t notice their waiter who clearly thinks now is the best time to take their food order. He loudly clears his throat right above them and grins down, waiting for them to notice him.

"Did he say yes?" The man asks, his voice brimming with excitement as he bounces on the balls of his feet. A look of confusion passes between Harry and Louis before they realise what has happened. The man thinks Harry has proposed. To an onlooker, it probably looks that way.

"Uh, I did." Louis answers before Harry can think to correct his mistake.

The waiter gasps and enthusiastically claps his hands together with a joyous shout. He congratulates them both and insists their food will be on the house. Harry smirks at Louis who is biting down on his lip to suppress a laugh.

"Let's see it then?" The man gestures to Louis' hand that's tucked against Harry's chest.

"Oh." Harry mutters before discreetly pulling off one of his own rings and handing it to Louis. Louis grins as he slides it on, then immediately flashes his hand towards the waiter. 

The man gushes about how gorgeous it is and how they make a wonderful couple, then wishes them the best of luck with their marriage. They untangle and climb back into their seats, cheeks pained with how wide they are smiling.

The waiter takes their order and leaves them alone once again. Harry watches as the man then engages in an animated conversation with his colleagues, clearly buzzing about the proposal he believes he had just witnessed.

~

Later that night, the celebrations behind them, they settle into bed. Louis lay tucked under Harry's arm, his palm gently massaging Harry's lower stomach.

"I can't believe you bought that house, Harry.” He chuckles. Harry simply shrugs his shoulders and turns onto his side to face Louis.

"I knew how much you loved it. I loved it too.” He presses a kiss to Louis’ forehead and lets the excitement of their future wash over him. “I could so clearly picture us living there.” He continues with a smile. “And when I saw the competition for the lease, I called the agent and asked her if the owners would be willing to sell. I offered them a decent amount, and they agreed right away." Louis' adoring gaze makes Harry's heart swell with happiness.

"You're something else." Louis says quietly, then adds. "I love you so fucking much it hurts."

Pulling Louis close, Harry kisses him deeply, letting his own love flow into the kiss. He’s filled with so much happiness. Overwhelmingly grateful that he’s been able to do this for them both. 

Harry had so far been careful with his money. He split it evenly with his mum who initially resisted, wanting him to keep it all, but Harry wouldn't hear of it. He insisted, emphasising that the money belonged to both of them equally.

She used her share to pay off the remainder of her mortgage and upgrade her car. She's also booked a holiday to the Maldives with Maura Horan before the summer is over, leaving Harry and Louis to manage the shop in her absence.

With Harry’s share, he bought himself a new car. Nothing too flash, just something more reliable that he can safely get around in. Louis refused to accept Harry's offer to buy him his own car, insisting on working and saving for it himself.

Louis had been struggling with the concept of providing for himself after growing up so privileged and now starting again with nothing. He was hesitant to accept any of Harry’s or Anne’s offers for the smallest of things like food and essentials like clothes. But Harry doesn’t see it that way. They are a partnership. And despite the fact that it has only been a few months of knowing Louis, Harry has never been more certain of anything in his life. 

Thankfully, Harry's scholarship means he isn’t weighed down with student loans, and with no other debt to cover, he really hadn't known what else to do with his money. A house made the most sense. It was somewhat an investment, and since he will own it outright, if they decide to sell it in the future, he will likely make a decent profit on it.

Once the payment for the house has cleared, he plans to reduce his spending to save for their future together. He also plans to work alongside his studies again once school restarts as he’s always done. Budgeting finances with Louis and living within their means will be a priority, but having savings will definitely ease any worries about unexpected expenses and allow them a freedom Harry has never had before. 

Harry definitely wants to take Louis back to Paris one day. Or maybe Rome. They’ve also talked about a shared desire to see America, and Australia is definitely on their list. The possibilities are endless. 

Harry has always wanted to travel the world, but it had always seemed out of reach. He certainly never expected having the financial means to do so, nor did he expect to find a partner he’d be happy to spend extended amounts of time with on such a trip. Someone to share those experiences with. But he and Louis have proved they do just fine living in each other's back pockets. It's the way they both prefer it, anyway.

Their kisses are slow and languid as the night grows later, the moonlight shining in from the open window above Harry's bed. When they finally break apart, breathless and lips tingling, they turn their gaze to the stars and whisper about the mystery of space, tracing the constellations with their eyes. Harry tells a terrible dad joke about an astronaut and a cow which sends Louis into hysterics, and Harry can’t believe that this is his life, his future right here in his arms, bright and beautiful. 

When they settle down, Harry yawns heavily as the clock ticks just past two.

"I liked pretending to be engaged to you." Louis murmurs, his voice soft with sleep. Harry smiles in the darkness, the faint moonlight catching the curve of Louis' lips, confirming he is smiling too.

"I did too.” Harry says, a warm flutter spreading through his belly at the thought. “We should do that more often if it means we get a free dinner out of it." Harry adds and Louis huffs a small laugh.

"Just so you know—." Louis murmurs, his voice gaining a weight of seriousness as he turns to meet Harry's eyes. He reaches out almost tentatively and cups Harry's face, then moves closer, leaving only the smallest breath of air between their lips.

"If— or when you do ask me, I promise I'll say yes then too." He whispers. Harry can feel the vibrations of Louis’ words, a silent electricity humming from Louis' lips, even without touching them.

He swallows audibly, the sound echoing in the quiet room. "Yeah?" He asks, like Louis’ declaration comes as a surprise. He already knows that Louis wants to be with him for the rest of their lives. They've already talked about the type of wedding they want some day and casually discussed what they think about certain baby names.

A week into their return they had playfully argued about honeymoon destinations and the size of the hypothetical guest list, but found themselves easily agreeing on which flowers they want and what will be featured on the menu.

"Yeah." Louis whispers back. "Or maybe I'll ask you ." He shrugs and Harry breathes out a laugh.

"There's no question." Harry says, brushing his nose against Louis’. "The answer would be yes. It would be yes even if you asked right now."

"That’s good to know." Louis grins and pulls back to peck the tip of Harry’s nose. "I guess we'll just have to wait and see what happens then."

After a beat of silent staring, Louis speaks again. "You're it for me, baby.” He whispers. “You're all I want. Always, yeah?"

“Always." Harry declares before pulling Louis in and kissing him. Love courses through them, ignited by the press of their lips and solidified by the tight grip of their fingertips. It’s a silent promise of forever. Of a love that was never meant to fade with the warmth of summer, but meant for eternity. 

Chapter Text

~THE END~