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It had started innocently.
Well, as innocent as a voodoo doll gifted to him by a possibly deranged fan can be, Harry supposes.
It was a completely random run-in with a small group of fans in the park after Harry’s routine morning run in Italy. Or, at least it had seemed random at the time. Harry’s really not sure of anything anymore.
The interaction itself was quite tame. Delightful even. The fans had quietly approached him and respectfully asked for a photo. A request Harry had happily fulfilled.
It had been a warm sunny day, his run had felt lovely, and he had nowhere else he needed to be. And seeing as they had been so kind and respectful in their approach, it was a no-brainer to indulge them for a bit.
He’d listened intently as two of the girls had told him an animated story about how his music had brought them together, first as friends and eventually as lovers.
Harry had already been in a good mood that morning. But by the time the girls’ had finished talking, Harry found himself grinning like an idiot as he gushed over what a lovely couple they made, and thanked them for being fans of the music.
His enthusiasm had probably been a little over the top, but he couldn’t help it. He just loves love, ok? Sue him.
Then the third girl in their group had stepped forward. She was a bit smaller, quieter. With dark, stick straight hair that had a tendency to fall in front of her pale face.
She quietly told Harry how much his music meant to her too.
Despite the very soft tone of her voice, there was something so captivating about her. Maybe it was the melodic whisper-like quality of her words, or the nearly golden shine to her hazel eyes.
Whatever it was, it had Harry feeling a little mesmerized. Dazed almost.
The next thing he’d known, he was blinking as the girl pressed something relatively small and long into his hands. It had taken him probably longer than it should have, to realize it was a doll.
But not just any doll. It was one of the ones they’d had made in their likeness during the height of the band mania.
More precisely, it was the Louis doll. Dressed in that iconic red and white shirt he’d been known for at the time.
Harry had let out a little shocked laugh.
He’s seen them of course. It isn’t all that uncommon for fans to turn up with them at shows. But he’s usually seeing them from a distance and under blinding stage lights.
It had been a very long time since he actually held one in his hands.
And he found that almost instantly it transported him back to another time. To the beginning. When everything was bright and shiny. When it all felt so much simpler.
The nostalgia was so strong, he thought for a moment it might knock him over.
“You keep it.” The girl had whispered in that enchanting voice of hers. “It’s for you.”
Harry had let out another small laugh. “I’m sure I have a whole box of these in storage somewhere.” He’d managed to joke.
The girls’ face hadn’t cracked though, instead it stayed intensely serious. “Not like this one.” She’d insisted. “This one is special.” Her eyes seemingly glowing even brighter as she’d said the last word.
Probably just a trick of the sun.
“Oh, ok. Well, thank you.” He’d sputtered, before exchanging pleasantries and sending them all on their way.
He’d felt a little awkward walking the rest of the way back to his vacation home with the doll in hand.
But it had seemed far too rude to throw it away. It was a gift after all. No matter how odd. It truly is the thought that counts.
So once he’d returned home, he’d tossed it in a kitchen drawer where he keeps other gifts and trinkets he’s received from fans over the years.
And then he forgot about it.
***
Harry feels loose and floaty.
He’d spent the evening having a lovely pasta dinner on a cute little cafe veranda with some good friends he hadn’t seen in a while. It has him feeling warm with happiness.
Well, that and the several glasses of wine he’d had with the meal.
And also probably the joint he’d lit when he’d gotten home.
The how, isn’t really important. The end result is that he’s happy and content.
It’s some indeterminate time after midnight, and he’s lying in bed in only his black boxer briefs and scrolling lazily through Tumblr.
He giggles as he likes a post comparing him to a cartoon drawing of a frog.
He’s on a burner account, obviously.
There aren’t enough drugs in the world to get him to do something that stupid.
He doesn’t do it all the time. Just when his curiosity gets the best of him. Or when he’s stoned. Besides, he likes keeping tabs on what the fans are saying every now and then.
Naturally, he comes across a lot of posts that aren’t just about him, but the other boys as well.
He normally just smiles at them fondly and then scrolls on.
Today though, he finds himself lingering on a post about Louis.
Apparently he’s got a show going tonight, some festival somewhere in South America.
Harry’s brain is a little hazy, so he doesn’t retain the name of the city.
It doesn’t really matter though. It seems the show is happening currently. And the post includes a link to watch it on a fan’s livestream on instagram.
Harry raises his brows.
Should he watch for a bit?
He shakes his head at himself. Of course he shouldn’t. That would be weird.
Wouldn’t it?
Honestly, he’s not sure why it’s such a big deal. If it was one of Niall’s shows, Harry would be watching it already.
But it isn’t Niall, it’s Louis.
Contrary to popular belief, they were never a couple. Him and Louis.
Not that they really had a choice in the matter. At least not after management got their hooks in them.
There had always felt like there was something there though. Some kind of festering spark, that got snuffed out before it had the chance to grow into anything more.
Of course they maybe could have pursued it after the hiatus. When they were no longer bound by suffocating contracts, or handlers constantly breathing down their necks.
But by then it had all just felt so complicated.
Something that had once seemed so innocent and pure, now felt dirty and tainted. After so many years of it being treated like something that wasn’t to be mentioned in public, something ugly to sweep under the rug. Harry’s pretty sure at some point he started thinking about it that way too.
Maybe they could have fought for it.
But to be completely honest, Harry was too exhausted by that point.
It had just seemed so much easier to walk away and pretend it never existed.
Or at least that’s his side of it. He had no idea what Louis thought about it.
They stopped talking about anything meaningful years ago.
Harry sighs, looking down at his phone again. And before he can even think twice about it, he finds himself clicking on the livestream link.
Instantly the tinny sound of screaming fans blasts through the small speakers of his iPhone. He adjusts the volume slightly so it’s a little less jarring, and tries to focus on what he’s looking at.
Unsurprisingly, the picture is a little grainy, and definitely wobbly from the way the fan is waving their phone around.
But they aren’t very far away from the stage, and Harry manages to make Louis out instantly.
And not just because he’s standing in the front of the stage. It’s also the strong, confident posture. So unmistakably Louis.
For some reason, Harry feels his breath hitch when he sees him.
Although it’s been quite awhile since they’ve seen each other in person, and most of the more recent times have been in passing, Harry has obviously seen recent pictures of him.
But still, it somehow manages to take Harry’s breath away.
He’s wearing a black vest that fits him in all the right places, and shows off his effortlessly toned arms. Paired with sporty windbreaker trackies that make him look like some sort of athleisure model.
And even with the somewhat low picture quality, the sharp cut of his jaw and those piercing blue eyes are unmistakable. Harry can even make out those little wisps of grey hairs around his temples.
Louis’ always been good looking. Even back when he was a baby faced teenager when they first met.
Harry thought he was beautiful back then, and he was, but it still has nothing on this.
Age seems to suit Louis in a way that’s almost difficult to even comprehend.
And suddenly Harry has the urge to compare the way he looked at eighteen to how he does now, as he watches Louis onscreen confidently make his way off the stage and down to where the screaming fans are frantically grabbing for him over the barricade.
The most logical thing to do, would obviously be to look up pictures of Louis from when the band first started.
But Harry doesn’t do that.
Instead, he abandons his phone on his silk sheets and pads into his kitchen.
He returns only a few moments later, but this time with the previously gifted Louis doll in hand.
Of course the doll isn’t an exact replica, there’s only so much that plastic can do.
But even so, Harry holds the doll up next to his phone screen to compare it to the image of Louis who is still singing on stage.
The contrast is almost startling.
And yet, Harry still somehow finds himself just as attracted to Louis now as he was the day they met all those years ago.
He sighs wistfully as he props his phone up against some pillows so that he can continue watching the stream. The doll still cradled lovingly in his arms.
His eyes flick back to the screen where Louis is still performing. He looks so confident and happy as the crowd cheers for him adoringly.
The picture of someone truly in their element.
Harry knows first hand, just how many times during the band that Louis had doubted himself. No matter how unfounded those doubts may have been.
It fills his chest with warmth to see how much Louis’ confidence has grown and blossomed on stage over the years.
He reaches down with one finger and gently caresses the doll’s cheek.
And then something weird happens.
Only a split second after he touches the doll’s cheek, he sees Louis jerk his head onscreen. And then use his hand to brush away what looks like an invisible hair or something from his face.
Harry frowns.
Obviously it was a coincidence, but the timing is a little uncanny.
It’s probably the wine and the weed combing to drastically impair his critical thinking skills, but he can’t help but look down incredulously at the doll. As if the inanimate object could have had anything to do with it.
Harry has always been a curious person though, and it gets exponentially worse when he’s tipsy.
So he really can’t stop himself from reaching down and scratching the doll lightly on the right leg.
His eyes then flick back to his phone screen where he watches raptly as Louis bends down and tries to discreetly itch is right leg.
Harry’s mouth falls open in shock as he practically throws the doll across the bed.
This can’t be happening.
Maybe that weed was stronger than he thought.
But then he remembers the strange interaction with the fan that had given him the doll. Her haunting words suddenly bouncing around in his brain.
This one is special.
Harry’s hands are shaking lightly as he reaches for the doll and gently picks it up again.
He’s handling it as if it might be a loaded gun.
This isn’t real. He tries to reassure himself. You’re just overreacting, working yourself up.
That’s the only logical explanation here. Right?
Only one way to find out.
Or at least, in Harry’s buzzing brain, there’s only one logical solution to get to the bottom of this mystery once and for all.
He holds the doll gently in one hand, and with the other he uses one finger to rub firmly on the doll’s crotch between its legs.
But his eyes don’t leave his phone screen.
Almost instantly, all of Louis’ muscles seem to tense up, but he does manage to keep singing.
Harry speeds up his motions and watches in wonderment as Louis’ face starts to turn a fantastic shade of red.
His trackies are pretty loose, so it’s too hard to see if there’s any kind of bulge forming there.
But it soon becomes pretty obvious by the way Louis tries, and mostly fails, to waddle across the stage to the other side of it as he starts the next song.
Harry lets out a little incredulous laugh as he finally removes his finger before staring down at the doll in shock.
It can’t be possible.
And yet. The results seem conclusive.
He looks back at his phone and sees that Louis’ face has gone back to a more normal color and he’s moving confidently around the stage again.
Harry’s not sure what possesses him, but before he can even think twice about it, he’s reaching for the doll again.
He keeps his touches light this time. Ghosting teasingly over the doll’s crotch every now and then. He even shows the doll’s nipples a little attention.
He can’t help but grin every time Louis shivers or twitches in response to his touches.
He knows this is wrong. He should stop.
And he means to, it’s just…
There’s something so addictive about it. Having Louis at his mercy like this.
By the time Louis runs off stage after the encore, his cheeks are flushed and his movements a little jerky.
Harry grins as he exits the livestream and flops back on his pillows, still trying to somehow make sense of what just happened.
Maybe he’s dreaming? This is all just a trick of his impaired brain or summat?
Harry’s still contemplating that, when his phone starts vibrating on the mattress beside him.
He’s about to decline the call, not really in the mood to talk with anyone. That is, until he sees who it is.
Louis.
Harry just blinks at his phone for several long seconds before finally managing to get it together enough to press answer and put the phone to his ear.
“Hey.” He greets, hoping he sounds more casual than he feels.
“Hey H.” Louis answers, his normally syrupy smooth voice, even raspier than usual.
The sound of it has a spark of arousal shooting down his spine.
“Sorry to call so late.” He starts, but seems to hesitate for a moment. “Shit, I don’t even know what time zone you’re in, sorry.”
“It’s ok!” Harry interjects, probably more enthusiastically than necessary.
“I’m in Italy, but I’m still up so it’s fine.”
“Ok yeah, good.” Louis responds, sounding distracted.
“I know this probably sounds crazy, but I just got done with a show, and I was thinking about how I haven’t seen you in so long. Thought I’d just call and see if you might want to catch up over dinner or something?”
Harry is still trying to make sense of that in his shocked brain, when Louis adds. “When we’re both back in London of course.”
“Yeah Lou.” Harry breaths out almost immediately, the nickname falling from his lips effortlessly.
“I’d love that. I don’t know what your schedule is, but I’ll be back in town next week.”
He actually knows Louis doesn’t have any more shows scheduled for several more weeks. He already checked.
But not like he’s going to say that out loud.
“I’ll be back next week too.” Louis confirms. “Maybe we can set something up for later in the week. I can text you?”
Harry nods, even though Louis can’t see him. “Yeah, that sounds perfect.”
“Ok cool, I’ll see you soon then. Goodnight H.”
“Goodnight.” Harry parrots, right before he hears the click indicating the call has ended.
He drops the phone back onto his mattress and stares down in shock at where the doll is still resting on his lap.
Is that why Louis called? Did this doll compel him somehow?
He really should probably try to explain this whole crazy situation to Louis and let him decide for himself if he still wants to meet up.
That would be the ethical thing to do.
Harry bites his lip as he picks up the doll again.
It’s just that, now that he suddenly has this opportunity to reconcile with Louis right here in front of him, he isn’t sure he can give it up.
“You don’t mean any harm do you?” He asks the doll.
Naturally, he doesn’t get an answer.
He sighs, setting the doll gently on his nightstand before crawling under the covers.
He decides he’ll just meet up with Louis and see what happens from there.
It’s not like he meant for all this to happen.
For all he knows, he and Louis would have found their way back to each other eventually anyway.
He gives the doll one last look before turning out the lights.