tied by miles [1.] | harry/louis | NC-17 | louis and harry are on opposites ends and somehow they meet somewhere in the middle. loosely based off this prompt: i want louis knowing that he’s gay, but trying to hide/get rid of it, but having a crush on harry he can’t deny, and harry showing him how good it can be to get fucked.
louis likes boys. he knows this. he has known this since he was sixteen. and he’s nineteen now and still hasn’t accepted this. but he knows.
his sexuality sits in the back of his head and just rots there, because it’s so painfully obvious but he doesn’t want to ever confront it. so he ignores it and he gets drunk and finds a pretty girl, lets her stay the night, and promises to call her but never does.
and it’s like this: louis can’t stop thinking about the boy with the curly hair and big, green saucers. and it’s also like this: louis is drunk and he has a skinny redhead on his arm, her speech slurred and her legs unstable.
him, liam, and a really loud and short little blonde kid (louis recalled liam maybe calling him niall) had gone out a little over three hours ago, expecting to be home by midnight, but it was nearing 1:30 and the girl clinging to louis’ arm was insisting on staying at the club. she was shouting and stumbling over her own feet and louis wasn’t quite sure how she ended up on top of him, but the blonde kid had a girl with him and even liam was talking to someone, so louis kept her with him.
“fuck,” she muttered after dribbling more of her pint onto her dress. “this is harder than it looks.” she looks up at louis and her brown eyes look bloodshot and tired and lifeless.
louis smiles down at her, giving a quick raise of his eyebrows and continues to keep her propped up with his left arm. he’s tired too and his eyes are numb and heavy frm the weed, but he’s too fucked up to even remember his way back home.
“are we gonna… go back to yours?” she asks innocently, tugging at the strings on his hoodie. “i haven’t got classes in the morning and—”
“sure, love,” he replies absentmindedly.
she stumbles forward again and erupts with loud and drunken laughter, her pint practically pouring completely out of the glass. “woops.”
they stay for another half hour, laughing and drinking and smoking and talking and louis finally learns her name. ellie. she makes him laugh so hard that he thinks beer is going to shoot out of his nose and her red hair is soft and silky smooth against his chin when she puts her head on his shoulder. but he feels nothing.
he takes her back to his dorm that night and she’s so gone that she falls asleep on the edge of his bed before he gets a chance to take his coat off. her red hair almost completely covers her face and her breathing is soft, almost silent. louis feels like shit for bringing her with him, because he knows himself well enough to know that he’ll take her number down in the morning and say goodbye and never see her again. but he’ll let her sleep and he’ll call her ‘babe’ and tell her she’s beautiful and brag to his mates about another good shag before falling asleep and reminding himself that he likes boys.
louis goes to all of his classes the next day, despite the pouding in his head and sour taste in his mouth. his eyes still feel numb and his hands are clammy, so he keeps his head low and tries to avoid any type of interaction. he passes by liam at least four times in the hallways, but lowers his head into his hoodie and quickly shuffles by. he knows liam will want to stop and talk about last night and louis is too exhausted and drained to come up with some big and plausible story.
he gets to every class exactly on time and every teachers gives a small glance up from their desks, their expressions a cross between surprised and impressed, but he smirks at them and takes his seat and pays attention. they look pleased and louis wants to tell them it’s the best they’re going to get from him for the rest of the year, but instead he sits with his head on his desk and takes sloppy notes on a piece of notebook paper from the bottom of his bag.
his hangover is almost as unbearable as the empty ache in his chest.
when classes finish, he’s out the door first and pushes past unecessary crowds of people until he’s far enough away from campus that he can light a cigarette. he knows exactly where he’s going, but wants to pretend like he doesn’t.
he’s standing outside the front of the store, a lit cigarette dangling in his mouth as well and a grey beanie pulled over his head, slicking his mop of curls back. his back is against the stone wall and he’s looking down at his fingers, which aren’t holding anything, but he’s picking at them. his head is down, but even from across the street, louis can see his dark lashes and the round, green saucers that they hover over. he wonders how harry will react to seeing him again, if he’ll be annoyed or if he’ll greet him like they were old friends like the last time. but to be honest, it didn’t really matter to louis anymore; either of the two was good enough for him.
what the fuck am i doing, he’s thinking as he crosses the street. he thinks about what liam and that irish one would think if they knew he was going out of his way to catch a glimpse at a boy he’s had but two conversations with. he thinks about what people would think if they knew that he was fighting off an intense hangover to brush shoulders with someone who probably wouldn’t flinch if louis was dead or alive. he thinks about how many times he’s told himself that feelings like these would pass and how he was always right. he thinks about how many times he’s pushed things to the back of his mind, ignored them, let them build up and sit there. he thinks about how goddamn fucking pretty harry looks when he glances up from his hands and right into louis’ gaze.
louis’ stomach clenches. his mouth was already dry from his lack of hydration, sleep, and a decent meal, but now he can feel his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth and he’s almost positive there’s biling rising in the back of throat. he can’t read harry’s expression, so he just stares at him in return in hopes that maybe he’ll wave or smile or do something.
when he realizes that harry is crooked smiling, the muscles in his chest relax a little.
“hello,” harry says and louis still can’t read his face, he’s torn between whether or not that was genuine or if he’s being mocked. “back again for some cigarettes?” his eyebrows shoot up at the word ‘cigarettes.’
louis feels himself start to grin, but he stops himself before it spreads goofily across his face. “er, no.”
harry’s eyes scan louis from bottom to top and louis can’t help but feel like he should just turn and leave and forget the whole thing, but harry still has a hint of a smile and he can’t move his eyes from his red, pursed lips. “did you want to see me again, louis?”
“er,” louis says, confused. harry’s tone, so casual and collected, catches him off guard. he doesn’t know how to respond to such a blunt question, even though the answer is sitting right on his tongue.
harry snorts a laugh (because he knows the answer too) and gives louis a nod, gesturing for him to follow his lead, and he starts toward the same alley where they smoked the last time.
louis can’t stop grinning.
he’s not sure how it happened, but harry’s back is curved against the side of the brick wall in the alley and louis is looming over him, their lips grazing each other’s and harry’s hot breath making the hair on louis’ neck stand upright. louis’ hands are traveling harry’s torso and as the seconds go by, he realizes how cold it actually is, and how much heat harry’s body is radiating. he pulls harry closer to him, his long torso fitting against his own like they were made to be pressed against eachother. his beanie had somehow been tossed onto the floor and his curls are floppy and damp and louis thinks they smell like apples. a few curls fall in front of eyes and louis stares a second before brushing them out of his face and planting a kiss below his bottom lip.
in the back of his mind, louis wonders if anybody can see them, two guys pressed together on the wall of a dark alley. he almost wants to pull away, because they’re in public and people know who louis is around here and it’s not like they’re trying very hard to stay hidden. he looks at harry for minute, whose green eyes are as big as the moon and as green as a stone of jade, and decides against it.
“are you going to kiss me or stare at me?” harry exhales, his voice low and raspy and breath warm and tingly against louis’ face.
louis smiles and he pulls harry to his lips by the strings of his hoodie. he kisses him, soft and slow, and lets harry’s taste sink into his mouth. he tastes of cigarettes and mint gum and louis kisses him like he’s dying, like he needs him, like he’s living off this moment.
harry’s mouth relaxes and his lips part and louis takes this an invitation to do the same. his tongue brushes softly against the parting of harry’s lips and he feels harry’s arms tighten around his waist. harry’s lips are soft and smooth against louis’ and his tongue is hot and dancing against his own and harry keeps smiling into the kiss and louis’ hands keep getting clammier as it goes on.
he’s done this before. he knows how to kiss. he’s kissed countless girls, so many he’d need a lot more than just two hands and feet. but it’s harry and harry is a boy and it’s in public. he’s kissing a boy in a public, open place where someone from the uni could walk past and see. where anyone from anywhere could walk past and see.
when louis pulls away, harry doesn’t look too surprised.
he licks his lips and glances up from louis’ lips to his eyes with a crooked smirk sitting and brows furrowed. his arms are still wrapped around louis’ waist and he doesn’t seem too intent on letting him loose anytime soon. “that was fun,” he says with a small snort.
louis smiles sheepishly and he feels his cheeks burning as he breaks away from harry’s hold.
“aren’t you gonna ask me out on a date?” harry asks, sliding his beanie back over his curls.
“you’re real funny.” louis scoffs.
harry frowns. “i’m not joking. where are you going?”
louis’ eyes move around the area nervously. “we’re in an alley.”
“someone could see us.”
“you don’t care?”
“should i?” harry raises an eyebrow. “are you with someone that could cause damage to my brittle physique?”
louis presses his lips together to keep from smiling. “no.”
“louis. are you gay?”
louis’ head snaps up. his eyes meet harry’s in a sharp stare and he feels blotches of red fading onto his cheeks. “er. wha- er. no. i’m not. i just- no.”
harry is grinning.
“i’m not,” louis says, lowering his tone. “i was just bored.”
“okay,” harry says with a shrug and the conversation ends at that.
before louis takes off, harry pulls him against his chest again by the wrist and pulls a black marker from deep in the pocket of his trousers. he pulls the cap off and holds it with his mouth as he writes in big, loopy writing ten numbers in the center of louis’ palm.
it’s cold that night and louis falls asleep sprawled out across his whole bed, trying his best to ignore the fact that there’s an empty space where someone else should be.
a/n: omg hey so there’s smut in the next part and i’m nervous. just a heads up!!!! pls tell me if you like it.. or not :))))