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Louis is a very protective boyfriend. Too protective sometimes, he know this; but it's just so hard not to be.
How can you not want to protect such a perfect, fragile person like Harry? How can you not want to hold him and tuck him into your chest and never let him go? It proved to be a challenge ever since this all started; this whole "hiding" act. Gets increasingly harder as time goes by, even; because it's just not in his nature to not be so attuned to Harry. It's just not possible to pretend you don't love your soulmate, to not want to help them or defend them or comfort them when they need you. Keeping his emotions retained has been one of the worst things Louis has had to learn to tolerate.
He can't pinpoint exactly when he got so protective; when protecting Harry became his priority. He just knows it's an ever-present feeling.
There's nothing that makes him more frustrated than not being able to, specially when rude interviewers like to ask Harry so many disrespectful questions, questions that he knows are making him uncomfortable; or when fans get a little too harsh on him, whether it happens on social media or right in front of them. Most importanty, when management treats them so poorly you'd have to squint to differentiate if this is simply a game to them; if they're just their money-making toys, or if this is really the best option for their careers to succeed.
He remembers the first time he saw Harry, all wild curls and cheeky smiles, small hands and clumsy legs. He remembers the sleepless nights at the X factor house, the nights where his thoughts couldn't stay away from shiny green eyes and chocolate curls.
He'd been so confused back then, trying to figure out what this boy made him feel, why it felt so right. It had only taken one night of drunken kisses with Harry to make him realize that there was no one else he wanted, no one else who could make him feel the way Harry did. And that maybe, what they had was true love.
"Louis?" He hears, and his head snaps up immediately, the sharp movement dizzying.
"Yeah?" He says, trying to hide his evident daydreaming.
He wasn't paying attention. Doesn't need to; he knows what it is they're gonna ask him to do, knows it's going to make Harry miserable once again. It's not like it needs to be reminded.
"Did you catch anything I just said?" The man says, and Louis stares at him, feels his eyebrows draw in together, his mouth forming into a thin line.
"No, not really if I'm being honest. But it's okay. Don't worry. I know how it goes." he says, any emotion but anger drained from his voice. He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose with his fingers.
He knows what comes next. Sad green eyes looking up at him, trembling fingers gripping his sweatshirt, small, broken sniffles close to his ear.
It's always been so hard for Harry, having to see Louis with her. Sometimes it's okay, a little sadness filling his eyes, but it's okay. He's okay.
There's other times, where things are not okay. It depends on how much time it is, or what Louis is supposed to do, but either way, every time it happens it's as if someone was taunting at Harry's fragile heart, tapping at it, waiting to see how long until it finally breaks.
Louis knows this isn't going to be one of those times where it's okay. He knows this isn't going to be okay. He's going to have to leave Harry for a week. A week where he'll have to be with her, minutes away from him, yet so, so far away.
It isn't that long, he knows it. They've been separated for way more time before, but this time is different. This time he's going to miss his and Harry's three year anniversary. He's going to miss the trip they'd planned all those months ago, the trip that made Harry's eyes twinkle with joy every single time they talked about it. It had taken weeks for them to convince everyone around them, years for them to get to the point where they would finally be able to go on a trip together and remain inconspicuous. Now, everything had vanished; any chance they had evaporating without them having any say on the matter.
Sometimes he wonders if this is all worth it; if breaking Harry's heart multiple times for the sake of money and reputation is necessary. It's so hard to comprehend why, but it's not like they're ever given concrete answers anyway.
It had been okay for a while, at the beginning. They'd been able to flirt openly, and stare at each other; soft touches were always present, no one behind their backs to tell them it was wrong. The decision of staying closeted was theirs back then. That is until the rumors began to float around. And at first it was all fun and games, it was amusing to see how much effort the fans were putting into these theories, easy to laugh at everything that was said about them online; but then management stepped in right as they wanted to step out, and it wasn't all fun and games anymore.
The first time Eleanor was introduced was the first time Harry'd had a panic attack, which then turned into an asthma attack, in front of him. That had been the first time Louis saw how the breath was taken away from the love of his life, the first time he felt so helpless as he stared into those beautiful emerald eyes, searching for an answer, for a solution, and saw nothing but fear.
It's probably the worst memory Louis has, his worst nightmare. He remembers how guilty he'd felt afterwards, after Harry was taken to the hospital, how horrible he'd felt that he couldn't help Harry, that he had no idea what to do. He remembers wanting to fix everything, wanting to make Harry stop hurting; feeling like everything was crumbling down around them.
Maybe that's when he began to be so protective.
-•-
The meeting ends, and Louis storms out of the room, not even sparing the team of mind-controllers a second glance. He knows someone is behind him, can feel heavy footsteps close to him; probably someone from security, but he ignores them until he makes it to his car.
He turns around, notices it's Alberto and gives him a short, stiff nod. Alberto returns it, a soft expression framing his face, one that resembles pity and impotence. Louis can relate.
He turns away once he gets into his car, a squeeze to his shoulder the only goodbye.
He lets out a long, pained sigh and rests his head on top of the steering wheel. Tears prickle at the back of his eyes, and he clenches them shut, not letting any of them slip away.
The car rumbles as the engine comes to life. He lets out another deep breath, and drives away.
-•-
He can't help but smile at the sound of Harry's angelic voice resounding through every room as he steps into their flat.
It's always so calming, makes his thrashing thoughts disappear. He sets the keys on the little table they keep by the door, toes off his shoes and walks into the kitchen, only to find Harry making something on the stove. He's wearing one of Louis' sweaters, clad in nothing but briefs that are hidden away as the fabric covers them, the soft clothing going past his mid thigh.
It's probably another one of his weird food inventions that gets stuck in his head after hours of watching The Food Network. ("Works of art, Lou. Food is art too, y'know.") And the scent fills every crevice of the kitchen as he stirs the pot, voice overpowering any other sound, hips swaying to the beat of his melody.
His voice dims out into a low hum, and then it stops, sudden, as if he had just been caught. His hips still and the stirring stops. Louis can practically hear Harry's smile the moment he realizes Louis is standing in the kitchen doorway, leaning lazily against it.
He turns around, slow as ever, sock-clad feet turning in one swift motion, and stares at Louis, a giant grin plastered on his face. After a couple of seconds, almost as if a switch was turned on, he runs towards him, and Louis smiles back, opening his arms wide in order to catch him. Harry jumps into them, his tiny arms wrapping around Louis' neck. His feet dangle and Louis wraps his arms around him as he twirls them around, lips joing in a soft kiss that's more them grinning into each other's mouths than anything else.
"I missed you so much, baby." He says, even though they saw each other this morning.
"Missed you too, darling" Harry whispers, staring at Louis' eyes. His mouth twitches, and Louis can tell just like that, that he knows there's something wrong.
If something is bothering him he doesn't say it, just lets his smile drop, kisses Louis one more time, and detangles his arms from around Louis' neck.
Louis lets him down gently, watching as Harry makes his way back to whatever it is he's cooking, his socked feet padding softly against the floor.
Louis knows they'll talk about it later, knows Harry isn't ready yet, so he swallows down his rehearsed explanation and tries to lighten the mood.
"What is it that smells so delicious, baby?" He makes his way to the counter and hops up, eyes curious as Harry stirs the sauce gently.
"Pasta, I know how much you liked it last time. Wanted to see if I could make you like it even more after playing around with some new spices I found today." Harry says, looking up at Louis, a small smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes on his face.
Louis hums enthusiastically, staring into his eyes with adoration.
"I love you so much." he says, because he knows tonight will be rough. Harry's smile grows wider, this time looking sincere; the type of smile that makes his dimples deepen and his eyes crinkle.
"I love you, too."
-•-
After dinner, Louis tells Harry that he'll do the dishes.
He envelops him in a giant hug, placing soft pecks all over his face and neck as he thanks him for the food.
"Delicious. Just like always, baby." he murmurs; the delighted giggles erupting from his boy as his scruff tickles his neck making him smile. He pats his bum gently, trying to pry him off carefully.
"Go on, angel. I'll take care of this, yeah?"
Harry smiles at him, reaching up to comb his hands through Louis' hair as he buries himself into his neck one more time, squeezing him as tight as he can.
Harry kisses the side of his neck; he detatches Louis with a breathy laugh and makes his way to the bedroom, the smile he was wearing fading as he walks away.
-•-
It's not long before everything's back to normal in the kitchen, and he makes his way to their room, worry flooding his thoughts as his steps come closer.
He finds Harry curled up in the middle of the bed, a blanket draped on top of his small body, hiding half of his face under it. He's watching a show Louis doesn't recognize, eyes glued to the screen as he uses the distraction to forget about everything else.
He smiles sadly, staring at his small frame on the bed, and considers telling him another day, not wanting to end the evening on a bad note. He knows Harry is getting ready to face whatever it is Louis will tell him, however; and figures it's better to get it over with now.
Sighing, he inches closer to the bed. It's hard to crawl over the clump of soft blankets Harry's turned himself into, but he manages, lying down beside him, huffing as the younger boy immediately latches on like a koala and tucks his face in Louis' neck.
Louis wraps his arms around his slim torso and holds him close. They lay like that for a while, the telly a low hum that alienates their issues, until Harry grabs the remote and turns it off. He curls up onto Louis' side again, legs intertwining, and looks up at him through his eyelashes.
"What is it?" He says, voice quiet, raspy from the lack of use.
Louis looks down at him, traces his fingertips down Harry's spine, feeling the goosebumps rise as the touch sends shivers throughout his body. He intertwines their free hands and squeezes, Harry's other one clutching his shirt tight, gripping it as if he was holding on, desperately wanting the news to be good.
"A week." Louis says, and watches as Harry's brows furrow.
"A week? Well that isn't that bad, is it?" Harry says, confused.
Louis takes a deep breath, "The week. Our week." and Harry stares at him for a while longer, expression remaining emotionless, body stiff. Louis knows he's breaking, can almost listen to the way Harry's heart shatters; can see how his usually glimery, bright eyes turn stormy, how his nose twitches and his lips tremble.
After a while, he looks down, his pretty eyelashes fluttering. "Oh." He says, and it sounds so broken, so sad, so tired that Louis is left wanting nothing more than to break something. He wants to punch someone, wants to scream and cry because he can't stand when Harry is sad.
He can't stand looking at his boy, his entire soul, and not seeing his eyes twinkle with joy; can't bare being the reason for it and knowing there's nothing he could do to fix it.
Harry's frown deepens, and Louis catches the tear that rolls down his cheek with his thumb. His eyes meet up with his own; gaze void of any happiness.
"Why?" he asks, blinking rapidly. Tears slip out of his eyes. He takes a shaky breath, words coming out choked. "Why can't we have something good for once?"
Louis frowns and pulls him closer, burrows Harry's head in his chest, holding the back of it tight. He doesn't know what to say. There's nothing else he could do, no positives to turn to, no one to help. He's desperate, and he's teetering; can feel himself breaking, too.
There's so much he does wrong. He knows there's so much of him to fix. He doesn't care about that. He can deal with that. The fact that he's not capable of protecting Harry, though, not even if he tries, is the one thing he's not sure he can take.
"We will, baby. I promise we will have something good. Soon." He whispers, because the tears clogging up the back of his throat won't let him speak louder, and rests his chin on top of his silky curls, eyes clutched shut.
Harry sniffles. He's crying now; a little whimper escaping his lips as he fists Louis' shirt tighter. Louis strokes the back of his hair, tangles his fingers through his curls just like he knows Harry likes in an attempt to calm him down.
"I know baby, I know." He whispers, his voice cracking in the middle. He tries to hide the fact that he's breaking. Refuses to be an addition to Harry's own breakdown.
"Let it all out, baby. It'll be alright darling. Everything will be alright."
At that, Harry shakes his head. He fists his hands tighter and starts pulling at Louis' shirt. His breath quickens, erratic, as small, choked sounds slip out of his soft lips, and Louis knows he's having a panic attack.
He sighs, closing his eyes. He tries to be strong, tells himself to be strong because there's no other choice, there's no one here other than him, no one better for this than him. His hold tightens as Harry thrashes.
"It's alright darling, look at me." He instructs, voice firmer. Harry keeps shaking his head, his small hands trembling.
"No, no, no, no." He chants, and Louis really wants to cry, too. He hates seeing Harry like this. He hates not being able to help.
Harry's voice grows louder, hysterical, shrieking as he twists Louis' shirt in his fists, his head shaking faster and faster, legs kicking out rhythmically.
Louis takes a deep breath, mustering up the strength he has left, and sits up, resting his back against the headboard, pulling Harry up with him. He makes sure Harry straddles his lap, tugs his hands away from his shirt, and crosses them into Harry's chest, forming an "X" with his arms.
He hugs Harry like that, holds him tight against his chest despite the way Harry tries to fight it, thrashing and squirming against him. "It's okay, love. It's okay, you're okay. Calm down, baby. I'm here, it's okay." He whispers into Harry's hair, rocking them gently.
Louis feels him shake beneath him as his head continues to move side to side, body breaking out into spasms.
"No, no, no, no." He's trying desperately to get out of Louis' grasp, screaming in frustration. It doesn't take long before his lips start to puff out small, choked breaths, struggling to breathe in as wheezes accompany the rest of his struggles.
Louis knows how to handle this, he's done it so many times now, but it hurts even more each time. It hurts to see Harry hurting. It makes him feel so helpless, all of this does. It makes him feel like he's losing control over the one thing he should have complete control of.
Louis loosens his hold in an attempt to give him space. He cradles his face in his hands and tries to get Harry to stare into his eyes, to focus on him.
"You're okay baby. Hold on, It'll get better in a bit, love." He says, trying to make his voice as soft and soothing as possible.
"You're okay, take deep breaths for me, darling. Keep breathing. It's okay. You're so good, doing so good, baby." He holds him tight with one arm and fumbles as he rummages through the drawer on their bedside table, trying to find the inhaler.
Finally, Louis finds it. He adjusts it in his hands and gives it a shake. Harry's stopped thrashing, but he's wheezing harder, and Louis feels panic rush through his veins as he watches his lips turn a pale shade of blue.
He knows Harry is beginning to panic, too; he's always so scared when this happens, and tries to reassure him, tries to hold him and tell him through soft touches and gentle eyes that it's going to be fine. That they're okay. That he won't let anything happen to him as long as he lives.
He shakes the inhaler once again, and places it into Harry's mouth, pumping twice. "Deep breaths, that's it baby. That's it. Deep breaths."
Harry stops moving then, a wet cough welling up as the medicine loosens his airways. After a moment, his eyes flutter closed and his breathing evens out.
Louis sighs as he loosens his grip a little more, giving him space as he lets him breathe through it, listening as the wheezes turn into shallow breaths. He rubs his back gently, words of reassurance never leaving his lips.
When the worst part is over, minutes later, Harry lets a little whimper escape, and tears stain Louis' shirt once again. He looks up at him through hooded eyes, and if Louis' hear hadn't been torn apart yet, this definitely does it for him.
He looks beautiful, even now. His cheeks a pale rosy color, green eyes bright despite the puffyness around them. His lips are incredibly red and bitten, a contrast from the pale-ish blue that had taken place as air was wiped away from him; curls framing his perfect face as it forms a halo around him.
Louis can't understand how he ended up with this angel. He doesn't understand how someone so beautiful, so sweet, and caring has to go through hell and back, when it should be the opposite. When the cause of it is doing nothing but drown in success, completely exempt from the pain they go through daily.
He slumps onto Louis again and wraps his arms around his torso. They hold onto each other as if their bodies were lifelines, the only thing that could keep each other safe. Louis rubs a soothing hand up and down his back, brings it up to scratch softly at his scalp.
"Lou." Harry says, voice hoarse, and Louis holds him tighter.
"Shhhh... Go to sleep, baby." Louis says, tries to keep his voice from wavering as his eyes well up. He doesn't let the tears slip past.
"I'm here, I'll hold you." Louis whispers, feeling his breathing even out until he's taking deep, steady breaths.
Louis lays there, with his beautiful boy cradled in his arms, and wonders why. He wonders why life always decides to fight against him, if he did something to deserve this kind of pain. He racks his brain for possibilities, for an explanation for this. Tries to make sense of what is now his reality, letting the minutes trickle by until the sun is no longer out.
He's about to nod off when he finally feels Harry stir against him. His hand comes up to rub his back, and he brings his lips to rest on the top of his head.
"Hey." He whispers.
"Hey" Harry replies, voice hoarse. He adjusts himself, inching up to look at Louis, eyes and lips puffy from sleep and emotion.
"'M sorry." He says.
Louis frowns, shaking his head. He thumbs the space below Harry's eye. "No need to be sorry, darling. You're perfect. We're okay." He says, hand now brushing Harry's fringe out of his eyes as he nods, tightening his arms around his torso and going back to nuzzle at his neck.
"Let's go take a bath, yeah?" Louis says, carding through the curls at the base of his neck; voice sweet and soft in an attempt to keep him calm. "Make you feel better, baby."
Harry merely nods, and Louis gets out of bed with his boy in his arms.
-•-
After they take a bath, Louis carries Harry and sits him on the bed. He slips one of his sweatshirts on him, smiling at the contrast on his small body. He puts some briefs on, helps Harry get comfortable on the bed and crawls beside him.
He stares at the angel that is his boy, who's already looking at him, laying on his tummy with his head facing his way. They lay there for a while, afraid to break the peace that has now settled as they stare at each others eyes.
"Blue." Harry whispers.
Louis smiles, feeling his eyes crinkle at the corners. "Green."
Harry smiles back, scooting over so he can curl up onto Louis' side. Louis holds him, his body cocooning him.
"I love you, darling." Louis says. "I'm sorry. I promise I'll make it up to you."
Harry traces his tattoos with his finger, and after a while, shakes his head. "I don't need a trip to love you, Lou. You're all I need. Just you. It's always you." He says, voice laced with honey. Louis nods, the words tingling inside his veins, his heart thrumming with adoration. He tightens his hold as he kisses the top of his head, feeling the warmth of his body against his own.
As he lays there, holding his precious, precious boy, he realizes that every single bump is worth it; every single tear, and every single fight. He realizes that every obstacle makes them stronger, makes their love for each other grow, makes them cling to it, live for it. He realizes that life doesn't hate him, just makes him stronger; that there will always be a purpose, or a lesson. A story to tell.
As he lays there, feeling the warm breath of the love of his life hit his collarbones, he wonders why he ever thought life hated him, when the most beautiful boy there is, is his.