Work Text:
The club is dark and crowded. The speakers blare out some pop song that I am too drunk to recognize, as I slowly make my way over to our table noticing that only Liam remains. My eyebrows furrow in confusion as I slide into my seat. Liam looks up from his phone to me.
“Where did everyone go?” I ask loudly over the music.
“'Dunno. I think Niall's with some girl and Zayn's only God knows where, probably out smoking. And Louis...” His phone sounds with a 'ding' indicating a new text message and looks down at it distracted by most likely Danielle now. “I think I last saw Louis by the bar.”
My eyes dart immediately towards the bar looking for the caramel locks and cerulean eyes that I am so accustomed to seeing. I spot them right away sitting on a stool engaged in a conversation with some guy in sunglasses that I don't recognize. My thoughts come to the conclusion that the guy is a massive tool because honestly who wears sunglasses in a club? My eyes narrow as Louis laughs at something the guy says. I breathe in and keep repeating in my head: keep calm. Just breathe. Louis' drunk and just being nice. It doesn't mean anything. Louis' just being nice. I almost believe my mantra until the guy reaches over and takes Louis' hand in his own while eying Louis in a not-so-innocent way. But my mind only focuses on one thing:
Louis doesn't pull away.
The guy asks something and Louis looks down hiding his beautiful face whilst shaking his head. The guy lifts Louis' chin so that he's looking him in the eyes and I barely realize that I am striding towards them until I hear the guy's low voice.
“Who did this to you?” He asks.
My stride halts. I know what he is referring to before he can even motion to the scar marring Louis' perfect neck. The scar I gave to him only months ago during one of our fights. I swallow guiltily as Louis' hand reaches up to cover it before he responds.
“No one. It doesn't matter.” Louis half-smiles at the man who is giving him a disbelieving look. He looks as if he is going to say something more, but Louis shakes his head and puts a finger against the man's lips to shush him. A grin breaks out on the man's face and Louis' hand slides to cup his cheek.
Even though I know Louis' drunk, intense jealousy flares inside me at the intimate gesture. Too intimate, I think. But before anything more can happen, as I know it would have, Louis' head turns towards me as if to look at the crowd. He stiffens immediately in recognition as our eyes lock.
“Harry..” Louis says breathlessly, as he instantly drops his hand from the man's face.
“Louis.” I whisper, barely maintaining control. The man looks perplexed, but thankfully stays silent. “What are you doing?”
“I was just talking, Haz.” His eyes remain on my face and I glance quickly at the strange man. Louis seems to understand my unspoken question. “He's nothing. He means absolutely nothing to me. You are who I want, Hazza.”
The man opens his mouth to protest Louis' statement, but Louis just ignores him. All of his attention is on me. Some of my anger and jealousy dissipates at his stare.
All I can say is, “I know,” before Louis stands and soundlessly slips his smooth hand into my callused one. I smirk at the man in the sunglasses as we turn to walk out of the club. When we finally make our way outside, the wind hits my face harshly. I breathe it in sharply. Louis leads us down the sidewalk so that the club is still in view, but quiet enough to talk privately. I let my breath out and look at an unsure Louis. He has a wary smile and bites his lip waiting. Waiting for what, I do not know. My attention is drawn to his lips and suddenly my mouth is on his. His hands tangle in my curls and mine clutch at his hips.
I pull away abruptly from his lips, but rest my forehead against his, my eyes closed. Louis plays with the curls at the nape of my neck reflexively as I feel him shakily breathe in air.
“I'm sorry.” I whisper softly, practically soundless.
“For what?” He asks in a daze. I pull back slightly and open my eyes to look at him fully. I search his blue orbs and see confusion and love directed towards me.
“For everything.” I breathe out. “For ruining tonight. For letting my jealousy get the best of me. It's just...when I saw you with that other guy. I couldn't take it. Then he touched you and you didn't pull away, just touched him back. It was too much...” I trail off, now looking down at my feet.
“Why?” He asks with trepidation. “Why were you jealous?”
I falter. Should I tell him? I love Louis, but I can't have him knowing my insecurities. He'd think I'm pathetic.
“I thought that I was going to lose you.”My eyes are clenched shut as I say this, too afraid to see Louis' reaction. Louis gently takes my chin into his hands and lifts it to look at him. Each of his hands rest against either cheek.
“Look at me, Harry.” I refuse to open my eyes. “Harry, please?” He pleads almost desperately.
Reluctantly I open my eyes to see Louis. His face has turned serious; Probably the most serious I have ever seen him.
“I can't lose you, Louis.” My voice cracks and tears threaten to fall.
“You will never lose me. Not if I can help it.” I want to believe him, but my eyes just trail down to his scar on his neck and I can't. I don't deserve him. He needs someone so much better. Someone who isn't me. Louis must see my every emotion because he sighs out, “I love you, Harry. No one else; not now, not ever. It will always be you that I want, that I need.”
“But I don't deserve you.” I interrupt. “You need someone so much better than me. Someone who...” I trail off and Louis notices.
“What?” He asks so softly that I'm not even sure he really says it.
I look him in the eyes. “Someone who doesn't... doesn't do THIS...,” My eyes drift down again to the scar and I trail my finger lightly over it, “...to you.”
“Harry.” He whispers. I know that he doesn't blame me and that he thinks I should stop blaming myself, but I can't.
“No, Louis.” I rip myself away from him. “No. I will never be able to forgive myself for doing that to you.” My back is turned to him. “You have no idea how much I hate myself. I am reminded of it everyday.”
Louis doesn't mutter a word, but only slips his arms around my waist tightly, cheek pressed against my back.
“I'm sorry.” I let out. “So incredibly sorry.” His arms squeeze me as if to accept my apology. Almost as if to say, “I know.”
I thread my fingers through his, and I can feel Louis smile as I let myself relax into his embrace and say the words that I feel coursing through my very soul:
“I love you.”