Archive of Our Own

The first time Harry sees him, he’s laughing.

He’s talking to a group of maybe six men at the time. They’re all extremely wealthy, and at least thirty years his senior, but every single one of them is so entranced by him, hanging on every word that comes out of his mouth like fifteen year old schoolboys with crushes. It would’ve been funny, if Harry hadn’t also been caught up in him.

The first thought Harry has upon seeing him, is ‘I wonder if his lips are as soft as they look’. Then, as if he could feel Harry’s stare, the man had looked at him, winked, then looked away again, the smug little trace of a smirk playing on his lips. Harry’s second thought, after that incident, was ‘I want to make him beg’.

They spent the next couple of hours dancing around each other.

Well, that’s what Harry told himself anyway.

In actuality, wherever the pretty man went, Harry was never too far away. He couldn’t help it; he was absolutely enthralled. The man exuded a certain kind of confidence, one completely different from the arrogance that all of the men at these kinds of things always attempted to carry themselves with.

The pretty man didn’t seem to have any interest in dominating the room, or even a conversation for that matter. Instead, he floated from group to group, seamlessly fitting his way in, no matter who the company was. No, he didn’t dominate, he didn’t try to control anything. All he seemed to care for, was everyone’s pure, undivided attention.

Harry couldn’t speak for anyone else at the event, but the man definitely had him captivated.

As the man moved around the room, so did Harry. He jumped from conversation to conversation, only paying half attention to whoever he was talking to, as he was much too focused on following the pretty little thing with the tight suit and beautiful eyes around the room. In all honesty, he’d have felt like a massive creep, if it weren’t for the seductive looks that kept being thrown his way.

Around midnight, Harry realized he’d conversed with everyone of interest to him. Well, all except one. Sometime around eleven, Harry had lost sight of the blue eyes he’d been following for a better part of the night, and despite himself he couldn’t help feeling just a little bit sad.

Sure, maybe nothing would’ve come out of it, but he was nice to look at, in this sea of endless old men in nearly identical suits.

With a sigh, Harry downed the rest of the Jim Beam and coke he’d been drinking, and decided now was a good time to let his driver know he was ready to leave. He’d thrown a halfhearted glance around the room, almost desperate for just one more look at the man, before turning to head towards the doors.

Instead of heading straight for them though, he freezes. Because right there in front of him, actually no, walking towards him, is the beautiful, stunning man.

He’s got a little smile on his face as he approaches Harry, and when he reaches him, he stops barely a foot away. It should be uncomfortable, standing that close to someone he hasn’t even met, but all Harry wants to do is pull him closer.

All he can think to do, is smile, and offer his hand to the man, and let out a breathy “Hi.”

The man’s smile widens, and when he takes Harry’s hand, he almost passes out, because his hand is so small, so delicate, it’s rather unfair.

“Hi. Were you leaving?”

Harry blinked, then reluctantly removed his hand from the other man’s as he shrugged. “Um..yeah, party’s slowed down a bit so I figured now was a good time.”

The man hummed, then looked around briefly, before swinging his gaze back onto Harry. He looks a little disappointed, Harry can tell, even though he’s doing an incredibly good job at hiding it. “Pity, I was going to ask if you wanted to dance with me.”

Harry let out a breathy laugh. “You can still ask, love.”

The man gave him a look, his eyes sharp. “I thought you were leaving.”

Harry just shrugged, and held out his hand. “Give me a reason to stay.”

---

After just a few minutes of dancing, Harry learned that the pretty man’s name was Louis.

When Harry asked him for it, Louis had leaned forward, up on his tiptoes, and whispered it in Harry’s ear. Like it was the biggest honor to know it, like it held the key to the world’s most enchanting and powerful secrets.

In that moment, Harry felt like the world’s luckiest man.

Over the course of the night Harry learned a lot about Louis.

He learned that Louis didn’t like to lead. He much prefered letting Harry guide him; hands on his waist and faces close enough together that they barely had to raise their voices to hear each other.

He learned that Louis had a beautiful laugh. After hearing it the first time, Harry did everything in his power to bring it out again.

He learned that Louis’ eyes were even more beautiful up close. That his favorite songs to dance to were the waltzes. His suit was soft, but his hands were softer. His ears were pierced, and he liked to wear jewelry that sparkled.

His lips were sweet.

Like candy and honey and a sweet white wine, all combined and put together to create the most addicting thing Harry will ever taste in his life.

Their first kiss happened at two AM, in the middle of a crowd of people neither of them cared enough about to even spare a thought towards.

Their second kiss happened in the back of a limo on their way to Harry’s hotel.

Their third kiss also happened in the back of the limo, right before Louis lowered himself onto his knees in front of Harry and proceeded to let him use him until he was coming into his mouth. One hand was in Louis’ soft, beautiful hair, and the other was gripping at one of Louis’ hands.

Their fourth kiss happened as soon as Harry had Louis in his lap again, and after that, the kisses blurred together until they were falling into the hotel room.

By the time they were on the bed, Louis’ clothes were completely off, because Harry was going to die if he didn’t see every fucking inch of his perfectly tanned skin. Harry’s jacket was off, thrown onto the floor somewhere, and his shirt and pants were still on, but unbuttoned.

The first time Harry fucked him, it was just like that. With Louis on his back, completely nude, his cheeks flushed and his eyes filled with tears as Harry made him come twice before he himself did.

The second time, the rest of Harry’s clothes had joined his jacket on the floor, and he wound up propped against the headboard while Louis rode him.

The third time was against the wall just outside the bathroom. Somehow, they’d managed to shower without doing more than kissing each other, but as soon as they’d wandered back out into the bedroom, Harry had pushed Louis up against the wall, and made him scream his name loud enough that (hopefully) the whole building had heard.

They’d fallen asleep after that. Harry completely naked, and Louis wearing Harry’s button up from earlier.

Just before he fell asleep, Harry had looked at Louis, fast asleep on his chest and his defined cheekbones highlighted by the glow of the moonlight, and realized he definitely didn’t want this to be a one night thing.

---

The next morning, Harry wakes up to the sun in his eyes, and an empty bed.

From his spot in bed, he can see that the bathroom is dark and empty, the little kitchenette is the same way, and all of Louis’ clothes from the night before are gone.

As he sits up, he can physically feel his heart sink.

Eventually, when his body seems to catch up with his mind and he’s a little more awake, he rolls his sore body out of bed, and begins collecting his things.

It’s not until he reaches for his trousers from the night before that he realizes his wallet is laying on the floor next to them, open, and completely empty.

He lets out a disbelieving laugh as he grabs it, already shaking his head as he thumbs at the places his cash and gold card should be.

What he finds instead, is a note.

It’s scribbled quickly on a piece of paper from the hotel’s notepad, and then shoved hastily into one of the folds of the wallet. As he reads it, he can feel a grin spreading out over his face, and by the time he’s done, he’s just...laughing.

He continues laughing quietly to himself as he begins dressing, because it really is quite funny. It’s not until he goes to find his clothes from the night before that he realizes that his button up’s gone as well. He shakes his head, then throws the jacket in his bag.

As he lets his driver know he’s ready to head to the airport, he looks at the note again.

By the time you read this, I’ll be gone, so don’t bother looking.

Last night was lovely, Harry, I’m sure you agree. Sorry to run, but that’s just how life works sometimes, I’m sure you understand.

Don’t forget about me. xx

P.S. Thanks for the money

As Harry prepares to walk out the door, still laughing softly, he’s already beginning to formulate a plan.

Don’t forget about me, the note says. As if Harry could just forget about Louis. As if he’s not going to see his eyes, hear his laugh, feel his skin every moment for the rest of his life.

Oh Louis, he thinks, you silly boy. How could I ever forget you?

He’s going to see Louis again, he decides. One way or another, he’ll be in his arms again, he can feel it.

Maybe next time, he’ll even stay.

---

The next time they meet, they're at a casino in Tokyo.

It’s an entire month later, during which Harry hasn’t, for even one second, given up on the hope that he’d see Louis again.

Much like the first time, they notice each other at the same time, and lock eyes across the room.

Unlike the first time though, Louis’ eyes widen, and he looks away immediately, looking almost shaken.

He doesn’t run though, like Harry had expected him to, which is a happy surprise.

He spends about an hour skirting around Louis’ little bubble. He talks to a couple of his business contacts, chats a few minutes with the owner of the casino, and eventually winds up getting himself a drink.

While he’s at the bar, waiting for his drink, he feels a hand on his shoulder, then a body at his side. When he glances over, he’s met with angry blue eyes, and he’s never felt more alive.

“Harry darling, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Harry grins, then turns his body to face Louis’. “Didn’t you? I’m friends with the owner you know, would’ve been rude of me not to be here.”

Louis glares at him, and opens his mouth to reply, but is interrupted by the bartender bringing Harry his drink. Harry winks at Louis, then turns to accept his drink. “Thank you love, would you mind getting my friend a drink as well? Whatever he’d like.”

The bartender turns to Louis expectantly, who gives Harry a look before turning and ordering, in Japanese. When he turns back to look at Harry, he sighs. “Why are you here?”

Harry scoffs. “I’ve already told you, I’m friends with the owner.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Yeah, and that’s bullshit. You weren’t on the RSVP list.”

Harry laughs, then, and leans in closer to Louis. “I don't need to be on the RSVP list, and you’re being awfully rude doll.”

Again, before Louis can reply, the bartender comes back. Before Louis can, Harry accepts the drink from her, thanks her, then pays in cash and tells her to keep the change, all in fluent Japanese. When he turns to give Louis his drink, Louis just shakes his head.

“You’re a bloody show off.”

Harry shrugs, not even trying to fight back a stupid grin. “What can I say, I’m trying to impress.” When Louis just shakes his head, Harry reaches a hand out, and rests it on Louis’ forearm. “Is it working?”

Louis sighs, but leans into the contact. He sets his glass down, then moves closer to Harry. “I don’t know. I’m awfully annoyed with you.”

Harry can feel his cheeks heating as he sets his own drink down, and slides his arm back, so it’s resting on Louis’ back. “Well. You stole my shirt.”

Louis lets out a little laugh, as he looks up at Harry. “I’m not sorry for that, it was a nice shirt.”

“Could at least apologize.”

They’re both quiet for a moment, before Louis licks his lips. Harry follows the movement, and almost misses Louis’ reply.

“What if I...repay you?”

Harry brings his eyes back up to meet Louis’. “I have a room.”

Louis swallows, then nods.

---

They make their way up, Louis’ body held close to Harry’s the entire way. When they finally do reach the room, they get undressed, before Louis pushes Harry back onto the bed, and slowly kisses his way down his body, working him up with his mouth before finally letting him work his way inside again.

It’s every bit as good as the first night had been, and then some.

When Harry wakes up the next morning, Louis is once again gone.

This time though, he leaves nothing behind, and takes nothing with.

---

Over the course of the next six months, Harry continues to find Louis.

After Tokyo, Harry finds him at a resort in Miami. They spend hours on the beach, swimming and drinking margaritas, before eventually making their way back to the room Harry had booked.

After that, there’s London, then New York, then Los Vegas. There’s Jamaica, then Hawaii, then Peru.

Around the three month mark, Harry’s friends begin to question him. They tell him it’s unhealthy, this obsession with Louis.

Honestly, Harry thinks, they’d probably be right, if it was just fucking.

But that’s the thing, it’s not.

Okay, maybe the first few times it is, but somewhere around New York, it starts becoming more.

They talk. A lot.

Those first six months, Harry finds out a lot about Louis.

His favorite color is green. His favorite food is potatoes (in any way, shape, or form), and his least favorite is sushi. He loves kids, loves dogs, loves music.

When Harry finds Louis in Jamaica, he finds him early enough that they have the whole day together.

He finds him in a little cafe having breakfast, and when he sits down in the chair across from Louis, he doesn't even blink.

“Should’ve known you’d find me here.”

Harry just laughs, and reaches across to grab a piece of Louis’ toast. He laughs harder when Louis lets out an annoyed hey and slaps his hand. When he takes a bite, he figures it’s the best piece of toast he’s ever had.

Louis just pouts at him. “That was my breakfast you heathen.”

Harry just shrugs, and grins as he chews. “I’ll buy you more.”

“That’s not the point Harold.”

Harry stops chewing, and gives Louis a confused look. “My name’s not Harold.”

Louis raises his eyebrows. “What’s Harry short for then? Harriet?”

Harry rolls his eyes, and continues eating the toast. “No it’s not short for anything, my name’s Harry.”

“Well that’s just silly innit.”

“You’re silly.”

Louis is fighting back laughter now, and he shakes his head. “And you stole my toast!”

Harry just shrugs, and sits back in his chair. “What are your plans for today?”

Louis rolls his eyes, and goes back to his food. “I dunno, I might starve now.”

“Loooouu come on, do you have any plans?”

Finally, Louis looks back up at him, an amused twinkle in his eye. “Well. No, I really don’t have any plans. Why?”

Harry shrugs, and can feel his cheeks heating as he looks determinedly at the centerpiece on the table instead of at Louis. “I was...I’ve rented a boat for the day, and I was wondering if-if maybe you’d like to um...see it?”

When Louis replies, he sounds far too amused for Harry’s liking. “You want me to just...come see the boat you’ve rented?”

Harry clears his throat, and then looks up at Louis. His cheeks are burning. How embarrassing. “I mean, yeah, and maybe like, go for a ride?”

He expects Louis to give him more grief. To make fun of him a bit more, or even just laugh at him.

Instead, the expression on Louis’ face can only be described as soft, as he nods. “Okay Harold, let’s go for a ride on your boat.”

---

Okay, so when Harry said boat, what he really meant, was yacht.

Also, when he asked if Louis wanted to go for a ride, what he really meant, was ‘will you spend all day with me on my yacht’?

Luckily, Louis seems to be really good at translating what Harry says, because he doesn’t seem surprised in the least. All he says, with a sigh, is “and I don’t even have me swimsuit with.”

Also, luckily, Harry is prepared.

He has a pair of swimming trunks for Louis to borrow, as well as plenty of towels, and even extra clothes.

Eventually, after a few hours of swimming off the side of the yacht, they find themselves up on the deck, laid out on a couple of chairs, drinks in hand, and enjoying the sun.

Louis lets out a happy sigh, and Harry glances over at him, grinning when he sees Louis essentially preening. He looks content, he thinks, and a huge part of him wants to do everything he can to keep him looking that way.

“You sure know how to treat a boy right Styles.”

Harry laughs, then takes a drink of the beer in his hand. “Just treating you like a gentleman.”

Louis snorts, and shakes his head. “Careful, I might get used to this.”

“What if I don’t want to be careful?”

He’s looking at Louis when he says it, and isn’t surprised when Louis doesn’t look back at him. After a couple minutes of silence, Louis sighs, then sits up.

“Do you happen to have any clothes on this rig? Don’t fancy sitting in these for the rest of the day.”

Harry gives him a smirk as he watches him stand, his eyes trailing down to his ass. “I don't know, I’m not complaining.”

Louis gives him a coy look, and sways his hips as he comes to stand over him. “Mister Styles, are you ogling me?”

Harry just grins. “And what if I am?”

Louis just hums, and steps over Harry’s chair with one leg, then lowers his body until he’s sitting on Harry, just high enough that his ass is just inches away from where Harry really wants him to sit. He leans forward, so their chests are pressed together, and rests his arms on Harry’s shoulders. He hums, just a little bit, then brings their lips just a breath away from each other, and whispers, “I kinda like it.”

Harry brings a hand up to rest on the back of Louis’ head, then finally finally brings him in for a kiss.

They lose time like that, just kissing and biting at each other’s lips, just like they’re the only two people in the whole entire world.

Eventually, Louis starts letting out little gasps, that turn into whines, that turn into high pitched whimpers. He starts rolling his hips into Harry’s, only to be encouraged when Harry’s grip tightens and he starts biting at Louis’ neck.

“Darling, why don’t you be a good boy an’ get out of your shorts, hm?”

Normally, Harry knows, Louis would protest being called a good boy.

Now, however, with Harry’s hands gripping his waist just right, his voice raspy and demanding, and his tone leaving absolutely no room for argument, he also knows that Louis would do just about anything Harry told him to. It’s a heady feeling, one that goes straight to his dick, knowing that the gorgeous little thing in front of him is willing to do anything to please him.

Louis rides Harry right there, on the deck of his expensive yacht, somewhere off the coast of Jamaica.

Harry talks the entire time, tells him how good he’s being, how good he’s making him feel. Tells him he's beautiful and that he wants to have him this way all the damn time, would give him the world if he asked.

Louis comes, all over their chests, so hard he’s crying with it. He continues riding Harry through the over stimulation, until Harry comes too. Then, he collapses onto Harry’s chest, trembling and crying. Harry soothes him, whispers sweet things into his ear and rubs his back and pets his hair, until he falls asleep in his lap.

He carries Louis to bed, then, and lets him sleep until dinner time.

When he wakes up, he looks disgruntled and cranky, and Harry almost bites his tongue off so as not to verbally compare him to a kitten.

“How long have I been asleep?”

Harry shrugs, still staring at Louis as if he’s the most beautiful thing in the world (he is).

“Only about an hour or so. Are you hungry?”

Louis yawns as he nods, then rubs at his eyes with his hands to get the sleep out of them. Harry wants to chain him to the bed and never let him leave.

“Yes, absolutely starving. Where are we eating?”

“There’s a little restaurant right on the beach here, I figured we could eat there, then go back?”

Louis hums, and scoots over so he’s cuddled into Harry’s side. “Just one problem with that.”

Harry gives him a confused look, even as he’s wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him in closer. “What?”

“I haven’t got any decent clothes, since you kidnapped me.”

Harry huffs out a laugh. “It’s not kidnapping if you’re willing. And I’ve got clothes in the closet over there, you can look through those and wear whatever you’d like.”

Louis lets out a little sigh, and rests his head on Harry’s chest. “Mkay, give me a mo’.”

Harry starts running his fingers through Louis’ hair, and tries to ignore the way his heart flutters at the way Louis relaxes into the touch. “Have I tired you out love?”

Louis nods. “Yup. Handling you is a lot of work.” He reaches out and pats Harry’s crotch as he says it, and Harry almost chokes on his laughter. Louis is able to hold out a few seconds, before he’s laughing as well.

Then, they’re kissing again, and if they don’t wind up going to dinner for another half hour, really, who’s to judge?

---

Louis chooses to wear one of Harry’s floral button ups, tucks it into a pair of high waisted shorts, goes barefoot, and he looks so fucking delicious, that Harry almost wants to forego dinner completely, and eat Louis instead.

He’s a gentleman though, and he takes Louis out to dinner looking like that.

It’s nice and quiet, and afterwards, when they get back on the boat, it’s dark, and the stars are out.

Louis convinces Harry to lay on the deck with him —not that it takes much convincing— and watch the stars. They lay out a blanket, and it’s nice.

Harry’s got his head propped up on a pillow he’d had the foresight to grab, and Louis is laying in between his legs with his head on his stomach. Their hands are clasped, and they go seamlessly from complete silence to murmured conversation.

“Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?”

Harry sighs, and really thinks about it. “Only a handful of times I think.”

Louis hums, and Harry starts rubbing at the hand he’s holding with his thumb. “This is nice, Harry. Thank you.”

Harry’s eyes widen, and he feels himself grinning. “Thank you, for coming with me. This wouldn’t have been much fun by myself.”

Louis giggles, and squeezes at Harry’s hand. “No, I don’t suppose it would’ve. Still, thank you for inviting me. You’re always so kind to me.”

Harry doesn’t reply, he’s not sure how to reply really, not without scaring Louis away, so they lapse into silence.

Eventually though, he clears his throat. “Hey, Lou?”

“Yeah H?”

“What’s your last name?”

He feels Louis still beneath him, and he holds his breath, hoping he hasn’t fucked things up. A moment later though, Louis relaxes again. He’s quiet though, for so long that Harry begins to think he’s just not going to answer.

Just when Harry’s about to apologize though, Louis sighs. “Tomlinson. That’s my last name.”

Harry feels his breath catch in his throat, and he smiles. “I like it. Suits you.”

Louis laughs. “Well I hope it does, since it’s my name.” He goes quiet a second, then asks, “why do you think it suits me, though?”

Harry hums, still playing with Louis’ fingers. “Well, it’s very rough around the edges innit? Louis Tomlinson. It’s so...intimidating, and sounds very official, y’know?” He feels Louis nod, so he continues, “But then you like, you say it a couple of times. Get familiar with it, and it’s a little softer, every time you say it. Like, the more you get to know it, the more comfortable it feels.”

Louis is quiet for a long time after that, and Harry almost forgets about what he’d said, until he finally speaks. When he does, his voice is quiet, maybe a little unsure.

“Are you? Y’know. Comfortable with me?”

Harry smiles fondly, and uses the hand not holding Louis’ to gently rub the side of his face. “I’m holding your hand under the stars, after spending an entire day with you on a yacht. You tell me.”

Louis laughs, and turns his head to press a kiss to Harry’s hand.

They don’t speak after that, but it’s okay.

When they get back to the hotel, they fall in to bed wrapped up in each other, and fall asleep immediately.

---

The next morning, Harry wakes up to an empty hotel room, and even though he’s used to it by now, and was definitely expecting it, there’s a lump in his throat and an ache in his heart, and they both refuse to go away.

---

He doesn’t see Louis for a month after that, and the next time they see each other, it’s in Hawaii. Harry finds him at midnight, and they fuck messily in the bathroom of the club they’re at, before going back to the hotel.

They don’t talk about Jamaica, and once again, Louis leaves.

Three weeks later, Harry finds him in Peru, and things are back to the way they were.

Louis teases him, Harry teases back, and once again, it’s easy.

Or, the sex is easy. Louis still leaves though, and that? Is never going to be easy.

He still finds him though. At this point, he’s not sure he could quit, even if he wanted to.

---

It’s November when Harry realizes he’s known —been chasing Louis around the globe— for just over a year.

A whole fucking year.

Harry’s twenty four, and has never had a relationship last longer than eight months, and here he is, a whole year into chasing some unattainable man from city to city, for just a few hours every time of unbelievable sex.

That’s how Harry’s friends phrase it anyway, specifically when he's drunk and telling them all about his most recent trip to see him in Italy.

What his friends don’t know, what they just don’t understand, is that it’s not just sex.

It’s conversations, it’s laughter, it’s them going for a walk at midnight because neither of them can sleep. It’s entire lazy days spent in a hotel room watching bad Hallmark movies and making fun of them in between making out and more laughter.

It’s...it’s just, fun. When Harry can focus on the time he spends with Louis, and not on the way it’s getting harder and harder to wake up without him, it’s fun.

---

Two weeks into December, Harry steps off a plane from India, and realizes Louis’ birthday is coming up.

He feels accomplished that he knows Louis’ birthday. The fact that Louis accidentally let it slip one day while complaining about how everyone always combines his birthday presents with his Christmas presents is inconsequential.

He’s going to buy him a present.

He probably shouldn’t, considering like...everything.

Of course, basically this entire thing with Louis has been something he really shouldn’t do, but he does that anyway too so. At this point, doing stupid things that he shouldn’t has become pretty par for the course as far as blue eyes and gold tinted laughs are concerned.

Things seem to fall in place though, because on the twenty third, he finds Louis in Germany.

He’s surprised, because Louis often complains about the cold. He didn’t figure he’d spend his birthday of all days somewhere absolutely freezing.

He can’t complain though, because when he knocks on the door of the house Louis is staying in, Louis answers the door wearing leggings and a jumper that’s so big it comes to his knees, and he looks cozy and soft and Harry suddenly loves the cold.

Louis gives him a little smile when he sees him. “Didn’t think I’d see you.”

Harry just smiles back, wide and happy, and shrugs. “What, you think a little bit of snow is going to keep me away?”

Louis just laughs, and shakes his head. “Of course not, you’re much too stubborn for that.”

With a shrug, Harry nods. “Naturally. You going to let me in? I’m about to freeze my balls off.”

Louis steps aside, giggling adorably as he does, and then shuts the door behind him. “Well we can’t have that, can we? I’m rather fond of that part of you.”

Harry just huffs as he sets his bag down, then turns to face Louis. “Just that part?”

Louis hums, looking thoughtful. “No there’s other parts I like too.”

“Oh?”

Louis nods, then steps forward and starts unzipping Harry’s coat. “Mmhmm, like your hands, and your lips too.”

“Yeah?”

Louis gets the coat unzipped, then brings his hands up to rest on Harry’s chest. “Of course. Like your eyes too, and your funny little dimple.”

Harry giggles then too, and bends down to press a kiss to Louis’ forehead. “Please, do keep going. Love hearing you sing my praises.”

Louis huffs, and smacks Harry’s chest playfully. “Well now I’m going to stop. D’you want some cocoa?”

He’s got a pretty little blush to his face, and Harry feels himself melting with the snow on his coat. “Yes please darling, do you have somewhere I can put my bag?”

Louis nods as he begins to head towards the kitchen. “Bedroom’s up the stairs and to your right.”

When Harry comes back down, changed into a pair of sweatpants and a sweater, Louis has the cocoa done, and the TV is turned on to a channel playing Christmas movies. It’s terribly domestic, and Harry just….aches.

“This is a lovely house.” He comments as he picks up his mug. Louis’ heaped whipped cream on top, and stuck a little cinnamon stick in it too. It’s adorable.

Louis nods. “It really is, I actually might come back to it.”

Harry studies him a moment, from across the countertop, then tilts his head. “How long do you have it for?”

Louis bites his lip, then, brings his mug up to his lips and takes a sip before answering.

“Until New Year’s.”

“Oh. Are you...staying?”

Louis licks his lips, and shrugs. “I dunno.”

Harry gives him a long look, then nods. “Okay. Any good movies on?”

Louis grins, looking grateful, and shakes his head. “No, they’ve all been completely horrible so far.”

Harry grins back, and nods his head in the direction of the living room. “Shall we go watch these horrible movies, then?”

Louis nods and grabs his mug. “I’d love to.”

---

They watch horrible, awful Hallmark Christmas movies until two in the morning, curled up together on the couch with a huge blanket thrown over them.

Neither of them realizes what time it is, until the time shows on the TV. Louis laughs, and nuzzles his head into Harry’s side, where he’s tucked under his arm. “How in the world have neither of us fallen asleep yet? These movies are bloody awful.”

Harry just shakes his head. “Wish I could tell you. Must be some kind of spell or summat.”

Louis snorts, and tickles at Harry’s side. “Right, magic. Happy Christmas Eve by the way.”

Harry blinks, then looks down at Louis. He figures now is as good a time as any, and nudges Louis a little bit. “Why don’t we go to bed love? It’ll be more comfortable, yeah?”

Louis grumbles, and cuddles further into Harry’s side. “But I’m comfortable here.”

“What if I carry you?”

“...fine. But only because you’re warm.”

“Not because I’m cute?”

“Definitely not.”

Harry laughs, and manages to carry Louis all the way up to the bedroom bridal style. He gets Louis settled on the bed, and then, instead of crawling in next to him, goes over to his bag. Louis sits up, pouting.

“Harold, what are you doing over there? I’m cold now.”

Harry huffs out a laugh. “Just give me a second Lou, I’ve gotta grab something.”

He can practically feel the impatience radiating off of Louis as he digs around to the bottom of his bag for the gift, and now he’s fucking nervous. There’s no backing out now, and what if he hates it? What if he leaves and Harry never sees him again?

He should’ve thought this through.

But, he didn’t, and he’s here now, holding Louis’ presents, plural, and he has no choice but to suck it up and give them to him.

So, he heads back over to the bed, the two wrapped items in his hands, and sets them in front of Louis before getting on the bed next to him.

Louis just stares at them for a second, before looking up at Harry.

“You got me Christmas presents?”

Harry shakes his head. “Noooo, I got you a Christmas present. The smaller one’s a..it’s a birthday present.”

Louis is dead silent, just staring at the gifts, for a solid minute, or at least, for so long that Harry’s worried he’s like...broken, or something.

“Lou? Is this...I didn’t like, cross any boundaries did I? Because I just remembered you saying something about your birthday and Christmas being really close, and like I don’t know when your birthday is exactly but I figured I’d-”

“Ha-Harry.”

Harry stops, his lips parted, mid-ramble, and looks at Louis, who’s finally looking at him again. His eyes are shining with tears, and Harry feels his heart seize up.

“Oh my god Lou I’m so-baby I didn’t mean to-”

Louis shakes his head, reaches over and rests his hand on Harry’s forearm. Harry stops, and Louis gives him a little smile.

“It’s okay H, I’m just…” He pauses, sucks in a breath, then picks up the smaller of the two presents. “I haven’t gotten a present in a long time.”

Harry’s heart hurts, thinking of Louis, beautiful, sweet Louis, going year after year with no one to celebrate his birthday with. He leans down and presses a kiss to the little bit of shoulder that’s peeking out from under his jumper. “Why don’t you open it then, darling? I hope you like it.”

Louis huffs, and turns his head to press a kiss to Harry’s lips, before he starts opening the present in his hands.

He opens it carefully, with gentle hands and an unsteady rhythm to his breaths. He’s still soft with sleepiness, and quieter than he usually is, and Harry’s brain is practically screaming a four lettered word at him.

Which he definitely ignores, in favor of watching Louis’ face light up when he finally gets the present open, and sees the little box in his hands. He opens it, then gasps when he sees the necklace that’s resting inside it. It’s nothing too ornate, just a silver chain with tiny diamonds all along the front, leading to a slightly bigger green one in the center. Delicately, he lifts it out, then turns to look at Harry, a little smile on his face.

“Will you help me put it on?”

Harry’s helpless to do anything but nod, and do as requested.

Once the necklace is secured around Louis’ neck, Harry runs his finger along the length of it, feeling a little thrill run through him at the way Louis just tilts his neck to the side, giving him more room. He takes that for the invitation it is, and presses a few kisses along the side of his neck, just above where the necklace rests, looking like it’s always been there.

After a moment, Harry squeezes at Louis’ hip, and nods towards the other present. “You gonna open that one too?”

Louis hums and picks up the present. “Might open it on Christmas actually, I haven’t been able to do that in awhile.”

Harry frowns. “What if I wanted to see your face, when you open it?”

Louis reaches down and puts his hand over Harry’s on his hip, then leans the weight of his body back against Harry’s.

“I’m here ‘til New Year’s,” he says, just barely above a whisper, “stay with me.”

All Harry can do, is whisper a soft, “okay.”

---

The next morning, Harry wakes up with Louis still in his arms, sleeping soundly.

Harry breathes.

---

They spend Christmas day completely wrapped up in each other.

They turn the TV on again to the holiday classics, drink more hot cocoa than is probably healthy, and dinner is pizza and a bottle of red wine that Louis had brought with him,

To Harry’s surprise, Louis had gotten him a present as well. It warms something inside him that he chooses to ignore, and as a thank you he kisses Louis until he’s breathless and squirming.

They fall into bed earlier that night, dressed cozily and kissing lazily until finally, Louis yawns, and snuggles his head under Harry’s chin.

Harry presses a kiss to his hair, and is just about to nod off, when Louis sighs. “Haz? You awake?”

Harry grunts, and nods slightly. “Yeah love, you alright?”

“I’m fine.”

He goes quiet then, and Harry hums, then starts rubbing Louis’ back. “You sure?”

Everything’s quiet for a moment, then Louis moves a little closer to Harry. “Thank you for today.”

Harry laughs softly. “Y’don’t have to thank me love, it was a good day for me too.”

Louis sighs, then, and when he speaks again, it’s soft.

“This is the first Christmas I’ve spent with someone since I was fifteen.”

Harry’s breath catches, and suddenly, he’s wide awake.

“Lou…”

Louis squeezes at his hand. “Don’t. I’m not...I don’t want pity, okay?” He waits for Harry to nod, then lets out a breath. “I just. I wanted you to know, like. You’re so good to me Harry, always so good to me and I can’t—” His voice wavers, just the tiniest, and Harry hugs him closer, his heart aching.

“Louis, sweetheart I don't—I can’t pretend to know what you’ve gone through, and I’m not going to, but I’m here, yeah? You deserve good things, love, whether you think so or not.”

Louis is quiet after that, but he squeezes Harry’s hand again, and presses a kiss to his collarbone, and it’s okay.

In that moment, Harry knows he’s in love. Undeniably, deeply in love, with the beautiful man in his arms that continues to run, taking a bit of his heart with him every time.

And it’s okay.

---

The rest of the week goes by in a blur.

If Harry could pick any moment in his life to just...live over and over again, that week would be his choice.

If sex with Louis, and falling asleep next to him was heaven, then waking up beside him every morning for an entire week is Nirvana.

They fit together so well, find a seamless rhythm that leads to domesticity so quickly that they don’t even have time to think about it. It just happens.

So the morning of New Year’s day, when Harry wakes up to a cold mattress, and an even colder house, it’s probably the worst morning of his life.

It takes him just under two hours to pack all of his things, and do a sweep of the house to make sure he hasn’t forgotten anything. If he’s hoping just a little bit that Louis has forgotten something, then he doesn’t really think he can be blamed.

In the end, he leaves the house, leaves Germany; cold, and with tears stinging at the back of his eyes that he’ll never admit to.

---

The last time Harry finds Louis, is almost two months after Germany.

After he’d gotten home, he’d gone straight to a friend's house, gotten drunk, and cried about his feelings until he’d eventually passed out. When he’d woken up, it was to multiple friends telling him just how worried they all are about him, in what could probably be called an intervention.

Which, is ridiculous, Harry thinks. He’s fine. Everything is fine.

He takes his time though, focuses on other things fully for the first time in months.

He goes out with friends, puts effort into making them think he’s not pining ridiculously over someone he’s sure some of them don’t think exist. He goes to meetings, travels to places he knows Louis isn’t (he checks, of course, can’t help himself), and manages to go almost two whole months.

Then, one day, mid-meeting, he receives a text from one of his contacts, one that works at the hotel he had been staying at the first time he’d met Louis.

All the text says is your boy’s here.

An hour later, Harry’s packed, and en route to Paris.

---

When Harry arrives at the hotel, he heads straight up to his usual suite.

He doesn’t stop to say his normal hello’s to everyone, doesn’t stop to chat with the desk clerk, and normally he’d feel incredibly rude, and would probably turn right around and apologize, but…

Louis is here.

It’s been two months, and Harry’s almost itching with the need to see him. Is almost dying with the need to hold him, kiss him, see him, hear him.

He’s so fucking gone for him, it’s ridiculous.

When he walks in the room, he sees the doors are open to the patio, and there’s a figure leaning up against the railing outside. He makes his way over, dropping his bag, and throwing off his coat and tie as he goes.

He’s undoing his wrist cuffs when he finally reaches the balcony, and when he catches sight of Louis, his breath escapes him.

He’s an absolute vision. He’s wearing the shirt he’d taken from Harry the first night they’d met, and nothing else. There’s a glass of wine in one of his hands, and as Harry gets closer, he sees the necklace he’d gotten him for his birthday is around his neck.

The sight of it sends a thrill through him, as he comes up behind Louis. As soon as he’s close enough, his hands find their spots on his waist, and he presses a kiss to the side of his neck, just above where the necklace is resting.

“You look ravishing darling.”

Louis sighs, and tilts his head to the side, his body trembling with a shiver when Harry squeezes his hips tighter.

“You came.”

Harry huffs, and slides one hand around, bringing it up underneath the shirt to rest on his chest. “How many times do I need to find you for you to realize I’m not going to quit?”

Louis leans back into him, and shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

Harry hums, feeling a brief bout of frustration, because really, Louis should know.

Instead of saying anything, though, he does.

He keeps one hand firmly on Louis’ waist, and with the other he grabs the glass of wine. Gently, he pulls it away, and sets it on the little round table next to them. Louis whines, but Harry cuts it short with a kiss, and it turns into a whimper instead.

Once Harry’s satisfied with the amount of marks he’s left on the side of his neck —Louis is wearing his shirt and wearing his necklace, forgive him for feeling a bit possessive— he trails a hand down so it’s resting on Louis’ thigh, and presses a kiss to his shoulder.

“Want to unbutton this for me darling? Let me see you.” Louis nods, and obediently starts unbuttoning the shirt. Harry hums in approval. “Good boy, always so good for me, aren’t you sweets?”

Louis seems to melt at the praise, and nods. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes glazed over just a little, and when he speaks, his voice is breathy, and high, and Harry is in love.

“Always gonna be good for you, Harry.”

Harry lets out a pleased chuckle, and pulls Louis with him as he starts walking them into the room. “Yes you are Lou, now be a doll and get on the bed hm?”

When Louis is laid out on the bed, already looking ruined even though Harry’s barely touched him, Harry loses himself.

He’s kissed Louis a lot. Has touched him, fucked him, memorized every inch of his skin and mapped out all the ways he can make his boy feel good.

For all he’s done that though, he’s never made love to him.

He goes slow. For as possessive as he’s been so far, he’s also taking his time. He wants to make Louis feel good, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t.

By the time Harry finally is inside him, Louis has come twice. His skin is flushed, he’s still wearing Harry’s shirt, and his hair is a mess. There are tears in his eyes, and he was wearing lipstick, that’s now smudged and all over his skin and the sheets below him.

He looks beautiful, and Harry tells him that, over and over and over.

When Harry finally comes as well, with Louis scratching at his back and screaming his name, there are three little words on the tip of his tongue, that he knows could ruin everything.

He collapses next to Louis, panting and feeling on top of the world. After a few moments, he pulls Louis into his arms, because by now he knows his boy needs a good cuddle afterwards.

They’re just starting to cool off, when Louis starts tracing the lines of Harry’s tattoos. He’s quiet for a second, before his eyes flicker up to meet Harry’s.

“Is this...was this a goodbye?”

Harry’s jaw drops, and he instinctively tries to pull Louis closer. “What? Why on earth would you think that?”

Louis shrugs, and licks his lips. He’s no longer looking Harry in the eye, but his finger is still on Harry’s arm. “Just felt like...I dunno. Different. Felt like you were saying something.”

Well. He’s not wrong.

Harry brings one hand up, and grips Louis’ chin, then tilts his head up until he’s looking at him again. “Louis Tomlinson, you could run away every day, for the rest of our lives, and I’ll still find a way to find you.” He shakes his head, then presses a kiss to the tip of Louis’ nose, grinning when it makes Louis blush. “The only way I’ll ever stop looking is if you tell me to, love.”

Louis doesn’t say anything, just goes quiet, and Harry moves his hand then, and rests it on Louis’ bare waist. After a second of contemplating, he moves forward, and whispers, “I’m never going to stop looking for you Lou, but….you don’t have to keep running from me.”

Louis’ eyes snap up to his, tears built up in the corners, just waiting to fall, but neither of them says anything.

They’re quiet the rest of the night, just content to hold each other, until eventually, they drift off to sleep.

---

Harry wakes up the next morning alone.

---

It’s a month later, and Harry is...not doing well.

He’s been working almost nonstop, staying overnight in his office most nights because he doesn’t want to go back to his flat. It’s cold, dark, empty, and being there reminds him of the fact that he's alone, so he stays on the uncomfortable couch in his office.

Over the past month, Louis has been in Ibiza, Spain, and Chicago. Each time, Harry had considered going to him (lord knows he wants to) but he just couldn’t bring himself to go. Can’t bring himself to go to him knowing he’ll wake up alone yet again.

He will one of these days, he knows, because no matter how hard he tries he can’t stay away.

But for now, just knowing where his boy is, knowing he’s safe, is enough.

---

The downside to hiring competent people, Harry thinks, is that they pay attention to things.

Such as his assistant noticing the fact that he hasn’t slept at home in days, and sending him away with strict orders not to come back until he looks less like a zombie and more like a normal, human, CEO.

She’s totally right, but that doesn’t make Harry any less bitter about it, and he makes sure she knows it. In the end though, he goes home anyway.

He sighs as he goes to unlock his door, only to realize it’s already unlocked.

That. Is really fucking weird.

Heart pounding, Harry pulls his phone out, ready to dial an emergency number, and creeps into the flat.

All of the lights are off, nothing important has been moved that he can see, and it has him on edge. He checks the kitchen, his living room, the bathroom, and...nothing.

So, he moves on to the bedroom, braced for the absolute worst.

At first glance, nothing is amiss.

Then, he looks at the bed, and yeah, he’s got to be dreaming.

Because there, sleeping peacefully in Harry’s bed, is Louis.

As always, he looks like an angel. A trespassing angel, sure, but an angel nonetheless.

Harry doesn’t know how long he stands there, just staring, but eventually his brain catches up with everything, and he realizes just how drained he is. Maybe his assistant was on to something.

Really, all things considered, he should wake Louis up. They need to talk about everything, and Harry’s got a million and one questions running through his mind.

Instead, he strips out of his suit, and crawls into bed next to the man he loves, hoping beyond hope that he’ll still be there in the morning.

---

When Harry opens his eyes the next morning, the first thing he sees is Louis, still fast asleep in his arms.

He’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. The sun coming in the window is hitting his face just right, making him glow, and now that he can really see him, Harry sees he’s wearing another one of his shirts.

He’s not sure how long he lays there, just looking at him, but eventually, Louis stirs. When he finally opens his eyes, he gives Harry a little smile, and a soft “good morning.”

Harry smiles back —he couldn’t fight it if he wanted to— and brushes a little bit of hair away from Louis’ eyes tenderly. “Good morning darling, sleep well?”

Louis nods. “Always do with you.”

They’re quiet again for a second, and then Harry takes Louis’ hand. “So….” Louis raises his eyebrows at him, teasing, and Harry rolls his eyes. “Why are you here?”

Louis worries his bottom lip between his teeth, and squeezes Harry’s hand. “If...if it’s alright with you, I um. I’d like to maybe stay?”

Harry blinks. “You want to stay?”

Louis nods, his cheeks reddening. “Yes, if you’ll have me?”

Harry swallows, and nods, fighting past the lump in his throat. “As long as you want love.”

Louis giggles, and brings his hands up to Harry’s cheeks. Both of them are tearing up just a little, and Louis leans forward to kiss Harry’s lips.

“I’m sorry I made you wait so long.”

Harry shakes his head. “I’d have waited forever.”

“I know you would have, you’re so stubborn.”

Harry laughs, and brings one of his own hands up to cover Louis’. “I am, that’s how I always find you.”

Louis goes quiet, then takes a deep breath. “I’m not going to run anymore.”

Harry looks at him a moment, then finally nods. “Okay. Just know that if you do, I’ll find you again.”

Louis shakes his head. “I won’t. I’m done running.” He bites his lip, then shrugs. “I think...I think it’s time I found you.”

Harry just smiles, and locks their hands together. “I’m right here love, not going anywhere.”

Louis smiles back, and for the first time in months, Harry feels hopeful.

“Me neither Harry, me neither.”