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Louis blinks his eyes open, vision slowly focusing as he sits up and surveys the man in front of him. Chocolate curls spill over the pillow, long limbs splay over the bed, one thrown haphazardly over louis’ own thigh, an expanse of pale skin against paler sheets bunched up just under the sharp points of love handles.
He was ethereal.
Louis shuffled closer as flashes of the night before played through his mind, he hadn't looked any less exquisite in the gentle glow of the bar.
Sat on a stool at the bar nursing a whisky for the better part of an hour, Louis is hit with an incredible feeling of loneliness. Dragged here by his friends claiming that ‘he just needed to find a nice bird to pull him out of his slump’ they had no idea that this was the furthest from the truth and now all he wanted to do was disappear into the floor.
Taking a sad sip of his drink he glances around the bar unable to spot his friends, they’re probably in some storage closet with a ‘pretty bird’ by now louis scoffs to himself. Just as he is about to get up and leave his eyes catch on a figure sitting in a booth directly across from him. Louis’ gaze is snagged on the long line of the man’s legs one crossed over the other. His eyes continue to follow in line of the man’s figure, unable to pull them away. It’s simple, ordinary things; the simple white shirt rolled up past his elbows and pulled tightly across his chest and the slip of skin that's exposed at his collarbone.
Their eyes lock. Louis’ breath escapes him. A slow smile spreads over the man's face as he stands up and starts making his way towards louis, dancing couples blur in and out of louis’ vision obstructing the man and then bringing him back into focus.
As the man nears closer, Louis starts to panic, what is he going to say? Will he be able to say anything at all? Reaching Louis the stranger leans around him, pressed up against Louis’ side as he rests his forearms against the bartop, his hip cocked deliciously.
“I’ll have what this gentlemans having” the man says in a low drawl gesturing to Louis, the man thanks the barman and pulls a couple of coins out of his pocket, he swirls the amber liquid around in his glass before taking a delicate sip and smiling as he tilts his head towards louis “neat whisky hm?” he asks “a golden drink for a golden boy.”
The words leave louis flushed and squirming, trying desperately to regain composure,
“Mmm” louis muses “i'm not surprised it’s not your drink of choice you seem to be the type more partial to a cherry wine” the man smiles impossibly wider at that, dimples appearing at the corners of his lips.
“Im Harry” he says softly “and you are?”
“Louis” he replies, voice even softer. He watches Harry subtly inches closer to Louis, his fingers walking slowly and deliberately around Louis’ glass and circling the rim.
“What do ya say we get out of here Louis?” Harry asks, glancing up at him from underneath his lashes.
How could Louis ever say no to a man like this. He locks gazes with him and lets a smirk curve onto his face cheeks warm “i’d be delighted to, Harry”
The rest of the night is a bit of a blur after that, he remembers briskly walking his way through the shadows to Harry’s flat, following him closely from the opposite side of the road.
He remembers kissing wine stained lips, wandering hands sneaking under his suit jacket and the sound of Harry’s laughter choked off by a sweet sigh.
He remembers calling Harry beautiful and watching a pretty flush spread across his cheeks.
He remembers, discernibly, Harry asking him to stay and talking with him for hours until the candle extinguished itself and Louis fell into a contented sleep.
The problem with all this is Louis doesn’t want to pretend to forget, he doesn’t want to grab his things and walk out of the safety of Harry’s flat and make up some stupid story about the bird he grabbed last night. Louis is so lost in thought he doesn’t notice that Harry has woken up. Not until the world is tilting and Louis is on his back with Harry clumsy straddling his hips a pout evident on his face.
“Stop thinking so loud, you woke me up” Harry complains though his face doesn't look to bothered about it, a dimple peaking through his pout giving him away.
Louis smiles up at him and brushes a curl away from his face simply watching as the sun seeps into the room and seems to make Harry's skin glow “you were wrong about me last night y’know” louis says “i'm not the golden boy”
A full smile breaks through on Harry's face “baby you’re the one who's got it all wrong” he says slowly, tracing gentle shapes onto louis’ chest “i’m not golden, i’m sweet like cherry wine”