#i haven’t drawn this au design in so long but i routinely use it when we do fantasy aus huhuhu | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

smrwine · 6 years

Note

I’m sad that you won’t be continuing to post that one actor au fic you had😭 but I’m excited for any fic you’ll be posting in the future ! :)

Since you’re the sweetest anon I’ve had all day, here’s the whole 17k wip I abandoned.

Turbulence rocked the heavily polished walls of the too posh and too narrow jet. Glowing blue lights illuminated the landing strip outside of the window, as the black of the night drowned out any and all existence below them. Buildings stood only dimly lit from the late hour and not a single soul roamed through the veins of the city. They were flying somewhere above England. Somewhere right outside of London.

Home.

The same soil he grew up digging his fingers in and the rich scent of tea leaves nearly tickling his nose from all the way up in the clouds. Finally, home at last. Comfort and familiarity practically yanking him back down to earth.

“A car will be waiting for you to take you to your final appearance,” Jeff managed to inform through an exhausted, drawn out yawn. Twelve hours across the Atlantic was common in their line of work, yet never ceased to take its toll on the body, “It’s just some nightclub in London. I’ll make sure your shit gets back to your place and meet you out there, okay? Just be sure you're seen and you'll be free to go.”

Harry sighed in response. Rolling his eyes shut and crossing his arms over his Gucci covered chest.

It was quite easy to become irritated with someone he hasn't been separated from in ages. Someone who shoved him out of bed and out of the door, every single morning, for endless hours of promo, and shooting for his next film. Someone who dragged him across multiple continents, threw him to the wolves for their syndicated fabrications, and watched unflinchingly as he stumbled through vague, long winded answers. Someone who pushed him into one last public appearance while his bed was just within reach.

It was frustrating, and easy to place his sour mood on the one person running the show, but Harry understood it was all part of the process. Knew he owed Jeff a great debt for catapulting his acting career into the stratosphere. And as the sound of his voice clawed its way under Harry’s skin, he reminded himself of his surroundings. Overly luxurious private jet, stocked to the brim with champagne and a full staff ready and waiting to cater to his needs. Embroidered silk suit designed with his brand and measurements in mind, steamed to a wrinkleless fit, and fingers dripping in diamonds and gold.

He didn't have it in him to complain, opting to keep his mouth shut, and roll with all the minor punches that came his way.

His irritation would fade soon enough. Just the thought of being on holiday for months on in, without Jeff, or the ruthless training and stunting for multiple films at a time, had his body blossoming with ease. Acting was all he ever wanted to do. Was willing to die for the art form alone. But when given an opportunity for time off and pure rest, he wasn't going to pass it up.

The seat beneath him shook as the jets tires screeched against the runway. Wouldn't be long now before he could settle. Just a few more hours of mingling, and flashing lights, before Harry had time in his grasp. His eyes flickered open to peek over at Jeff. Thumbs tapping away at his mobile and brows slightly dipped in gloom. Yearning clearly written all over his face. He missed his lover. Was likely letting her know he landed and would arrive home late.

It often slipped Harry’s mind that everyone around him had lives and relationships of their own. All of them were so invested in advancing his career, there was hardly ever time to delve into the details of their personal lives. Harry also sort of forgot what it was like to have someone awaiting his arrival back home. Granted, his mum consistently counted down the days each time he was away, but couldn't recall what it was like having someone significant to sleepily tiptoe down his staircase and welcome him home with open arms. Someone to tug at his heartstrings and kiss him gently on the lips. Fill the empty spaces in his massive house with shimmering light and early morning laughter. Someone for him to miss. His career didn't allow it. Whether he was physically in front of the camera, or not, he was always working, always on the move, and that meant the same for the people surrounding him.

The fact alone formed a guilty lump in the pit of his stomach, and forced his features into a wince. Jeff was a bloody nuisance, but Harry had somewhat of a heart, “You can–um,” he cleared his throat after hours of no use and swallowed down the remorse that lingered there, “You can take the night off, yeah? Go see Glenne, get a head start on your holiday, whatever. I can handle one appearance on my own.”

“Don't be ridiculous—”

“No really,” he sat up and unbuckled himself from the seat, “I'll stay for a few hours and let the paps get their shot. It's nothing I haven't done before,” he shrugged and practically saw the cogs of consideration turning in Jeff’s head, “Besides, I’m sure you're sick of me anyway, and your brooding eyes aren't making it any easier on my conscious.”

Jeff remained silent for a bit. Flipping his mobile against his thigh and not breaking his stare for a moment. Harry sat back coolly in his seat, unmoving, and unblinking, as the jet slowly rolled to a stop. He had him. Could feel permission radiating off the posture of Jeff’s fidgety body.

“Alright, fine,” Jeff resigned as he unbuckled himself from his seat and began to gather his belongings, “But it’s only because I'm sick of you–like you said–” he scrambled to wrap his different cords around his multiple electronics and nearly tripped over himself a dozen times, “I'll uh–I'll need updates—”

“Mate, relax, Glenne isn't going anywhere, yeah?”

“Fuck you.” Jeff mumbled under his breath as Harry let out his first genuine laugh in over twelve hours.

“I don't think I've ever seen you move with such a purpose. I'll be expecting this sort of urgency from now on.”

Jeff shouldered his carryon and paused all frantic movements for a second, “I mean it,” his voice dipped into something more serious as he pointed a finger, “Keep me updated.”

“As if you’d read them, anyway,” Harry stood to his full height, ignoring the stern look on Jeff’s face, and smoothing out the suit against his body, “Y’should probably get going, then.”

“I'll see you when you're ready to start working again. Maybe even before then. Know you can't keep still for too long.” he reached up to pat Harry’s cheek twice before turning away and throwing a wave over his shoulder, “See you, H.”

“See you.”

Harry watched as Jeff shouldered his way off the jet and out onto the brightly lit staircase just outside. He was right. Harry didn't like to keep still. Grew fond of having a busy lifestyle and always having a project to work on. It would be there for him when he was ready, however. Multiple scripts to be read over and dozens of campaigns to be the face of. He would miss it. But for the sake of his health, he needed the time off.

Ahh, shit. Fuck. One last appearance. It was going to be strange to not have someone to guide him through the night. To not hear the nagging tone of Jeff’s voice in his ear every time he so much as turned the corner. It wouldn't be too hard. Shouldn’t be. It was just a routine he'd grown accustomed to.

Just a few more hours, he thought to himself. Just a few more hours until he could rest without a deadline. Without being ripped from his sleep and worked to the bone.

He could do this. He could.

I want romance

Harry drunkenly sent off to Jeff as he stumbled up the slick concrete of his front steps. It was too quiet in Oxfordshire. Too chilly for spring and too starless for the countryside. His house was too big, and too secluded, and Harry was too pissed to not feel the effects of isolation. He was so bloody lonely and needed to vent to someone. Jeff asked him for updates anyway, what's one that was slightly more personal than the others?

The tail end of his silk jacket caught in the door as he slammed it behind him. Fucking useless piece of fabric. No purpose for it being so long. Harry slipped his body from the arm holes, not bothering to pull it from the door, and unsteadily began to climb up the stairs one step at a time. Tripping over his clunky boots, catching himself by his ring covered hands, and pushing his way upward. When did his staircase become so bloody high? When did he become so incredibly unbalanced and so regrettably sloshed? Must have been the last few drips of sparkling liquid that did him in. Material practically flew off his body as he tugged, unbuttoned, and unzipped his way down the hallway, and messily fumbled his way into the bedroom.

Okay? I can’t give you that.

Read Jeff's reply. Wanker. Always so insensitive to Harry’s needs. The floor beneath him disappeared as his body flopped down against his bed. Sheets so soft. Mattress practically cuddling him back.

Is everything alright?

Jeff's second reply came just as Harry’s head buried into the pillow.

No. Everything wasn't alright. Champagne remnants lingered on his tired tongue, tasting of sour grapes, and attempts at drowning out loneliness. Empty bedroom around him kaleidoscoping as he tossed between the sheets, legs tangling in fabric, and chest heaving in frustration. Body warm, sticky, and longing, and not a soul to press it up against. Everything was not alright. Everything was spinning and spiraling and the pissed part of his brain had him fully convinced he was going to be ill.

Peachy. xx

Harry sent off as he tossed his phone to the ground. Shit was entirely uncool. Couldn't bare the thought of explaining his heartache when he had it so fucking good. Wouldn't dare let this vulnerable side sliver its way into the public eye let alone someone who worked for him.

Sleep. The coherent part of his brain whispered seductively as the cushion of his bed wrapped it's warmth around him and consumed him wholly. Sleep would be a quick fix. Shutting his eyes and waking up on the right side of the bed in the morning. Hopefully. Time was all he had now and it was thankfully all he'd need.

It’s nine in the evening, at the end of February. Humidity fogging the glass windows of the building and hazy moonlight reflecting gently against the London rain. Harry’s just sat down for a late meal. Not even hungry, really. Just tired of sitting around his house, answering emails, and falling asleep to the absence of white noise. He hadn’t been out in ages. Only leaving his house to keep his body fit and quickly returning to his reclusive ways. It was only fitting that his first night out was alone, cold, and dreary. Thankfully, he has yet to be approached by anyone other than his waitress. Hat tipped low and gaze pointed downward, he has so far avoided the heated stare of curious eyes.

Red wine settled bitterly on his tongue as he found more interest in swirling the glass around rather than enjoying the food in front of him. Jesus, he hoped nobody has recognized him yet. Who is Harry Styles without a model clinging to his arm, or an elite entourage talking over him, basking in their prominence, and flashing their white teeth for the meddling cameras? Being recognized in a sight this sore would surely put a damper on his cool factor. Not that Harry gave a shit, it’s just, the same couldn’t be said for Jeff and the team that worked tirelessly on his public persona.

“Would you like to take a look at our dessert menu, Mr. Styles?”

Harry cringed at the sound of his surname being spoke into existence. If people around him were wondering, and listening close enough, all of their speculations were clearly confirmed.

“No thank you, darling.” Harry looked up from under his hat, pasting on a closed lipped smile, and charmingly flaunting his dimples, “I do fancy the cheque, however. Whenever you get the chance.”

The apples of her cheeks flamed red as she visibly shivered at his words.

Christ. Jeff really did a number on the general public. Easily convincing them Harry Styles was someone to fawn over and be in awe of. Hell, even he was partially convinced he was something special half of the time. If only everyone knew how great of a hermit he actually was.

“Of course, Mr. Styles. I’ll be just a moment.”

The sharply dressed waitress bowed and went on her way as Harry took one last sip, and swallowed down the burgundy liquid.

A quick flash of blue caught his eye from outside the window. A lovely sight choosing that moment to grace Harry’s eyes with magnificence. Sheer material clinging to a nearly soaked through body, a mess of fringe dripping with rainwater, and delicate hands swiping pesky droplets from his face. Fucking hell. This man was otherworldly. Pretty. Flawless. Stunning. Unparalleled in all terms of beauty. Shivering body finding shelter under the coverage of Harry’s window, bottom lip bitten cherry red, and fingers shakily tugging his mobile from his obscenely tight trousers. Bloody gorgeous and dripping wet, and so incredibly tempting. Harry couldn’t recall the last time he was so easily taken by another man’s looks alone.

For a second, he let himself ponder over what would happen if the man on the other side of the glass would look in and see him. Would he recognize Harry with his infamous bedroom eyes, and distinguishable tattoos hidden away? Would he blush at the sight of Harry admiring every curve and slope of his perfect body? Would he cringe at the contrived person he believed Harry to be? Did he even know who Harry was at all?

“Here you are, Mr. Styles.” A kind voice forcefully ripped Harry from his thoughts. “It was a pleasure serving you this evening. Enjoy the rest of your night.”

Harry’s eyes flickered to hers as she bravely shot him a wink and pushed the bill across the table. A pang of guilt settled heavily in his stomach as she stepped away. He hoped there was nothing he said that insinuated he was even slightly interested in her. He most certainly wasn’t and he didn’t recall making it seem that way. She was probably just being polite, Harry reasoned. Or cheeky.

Blue material caught his eye once more and he slightly turned to peek between the raindrops of the window.

Smile nearly reached those beautiful eyes as a significantly older man pulled him in by the waist, and kissed his temple gently. Unreasonable jealousy coursed through Harry’s veins as the pair cuddled in close, and entered the doors of the establishment.

It took a special type of prick to leave their date alone and waiting in the pouring rain, and this one has yet to offer up his coat, or even attempt to dry his partner off. Bastard. It was already fairly clear to Harry that the dripping lad deserved better. Given the chance, Harry would run over and drape the coat off his back over his shivering shoulders. Maybe even introduce himself and sweet talk his way into a conversation.

But that was just his luck, wasn’t it? First person he’s been instantly attracted to since his acting hiatus started – the one time his schedule would allow for him to get to know another human being – and said human was already spoken for by some undeserving sod.

Sounded about right. Harry was destined for a life of loneliness and film.

A quiet giggle fell from the man’s pretty lips as their host led them in the direction of a secluded table. Not-so-innocent blue eyes flashed towards Harry’s green ones and a spark of arousal ignited through Harry’s body. The man’s neatly curved brows raised in interest as he bit down against a slightly bashful smile, and slowly stepped in the direction of Harry. Possessive hands curled their way around his shapely hips and tugged his younger body alongside the older one. Harry smirked as the older lad’s expression was sourly plastered across his face. The pair knew exactly who Harry was, then. Younger lad was likely a fan judging by the tight grip on his hips alone.

Harry was smug for all but a second, when an unmistakably selfish kiss was stolen right in front of him, and the couple continued on towards the back of the dining room. Goodness, Harry desperately wished that were him. No matter how inflated his ego grew as the other lad blatantly checked him out, he was going home alone tonight, and would wake up alone in the morning.

It stung. Fucking pained him to not know the feeling of mutual devotion.

Acting was the only real commitment Harry knew. And from the time it took him to stand from his table, pay, and push out the door, he decided this hiatus was over. Three months of being stagnant was no longer appealing, he couldn’t go on for a full year of this. If he was going to be lonely anyway, he might as well be surrounded by other people while being so.

“I'm ready to get back into it, Jeffrey.” Harry calmly spoke through the phone as he laid his body out against his sofa. There was a niggling feeling in the pit of his stomach that knew Jeff wouldn't take too kindly to the news, or the fact that he called him at nearly three in the morning, so he figured he'd make himself comfortable for the inevitable grilling.

“Harry–” Jeff cut off with a muffled sigh as Harry winced at his exhausted tone, “It’s only been a few months. You were supposed to take the rest of the year off at least—”

“I'm aware of that, but I'm ready to jump back in. Sitting around all day just hasn't been cutting it for me.”

“Well, it's not just about you not working all day, Harry, it's about not over exposing yourself. Not exhausting the public of your projects. You've been off for three months and I still see your face plastered everywhere. Coming back now could be potentially damaging.”

Harry rolled his eyes shut and threw his head back against the cushion. Of course Jeff had to put it in simple terms, making the issue too easy to understand, and sounding every bit as professional as he dumbed down the magnitude of what Harry coming back could do to his career. He was right, and Harry knew that, but that didn't mean he had to like it, or agree to it.

“I just want something to work on. It doesn't have to be a massive role or campaign. I'm just tired of doing nothing.”

“That's the point of your hiatus, Harry.” Jeff spoke stern yet soft, “You're supposed to be doing nothing. You should be half way across the world by now, on some beach somewhere, soaking up the sun. This is about you as well, and your physical and mental health. We talked about exhausting yourself and how you should use this opportunity to relax, and do all the things you don't normally have the time to do.”

Fucking hell. He hated feeling like he was being spoken to like a child. Hated that Jeff was always so fucking right no matter which way he spun it. God. Harry should have just went off and started a project on his own. He would have happily dealt with the consequences versus being told time off is the better choice for him. He couldn't help that he was stubborn and loved what he did.

“Go visit your family, see your childhood friends, get involved with your local charities, but seriously, H—give it until at least summertime.”

Harry perked up at the sound of his words, “Summer time, you say? So – what – only three months from now, and I can get involved in something?”

“I'll make you a deal,” Jeff paused to consider his words and Harry sat up a bit straighter at the proposition, “If you can sit still for the next six weeks, I'll send over all the scripts I've collected for your comeback. You can read over them all, take as long as you need, choose whichever role you want to jump into, whatever. But you have to promise me relaxation until summer, in return. Sleep late and lounge in the sand, or your bed, wherever, I don't give a shit. Pick up a new hobby—whatever you have to do. Just don’t call me about work for another six weeks unless you're coming to visit Glenne or me. Sound fair?”

Fuck. It was tempting, yes. Jeff knew waving around the promise of brand new scripts would sway Harry a certain way. But summer was seemingly so far from now. Frost still lightly dusted the tips of his garden every morning. What was he supposed to do until the beaming sun melted all of that away? Harry supposed he could bother his trainer for some time. Maybe take up boxing lessons like he's always wanted to. See his Mum. Visit his sister in America. Something. Anything. Just get out of the house for once to speed up the process. He didn't have much of a choice anyway.

“You there?” Jeff spoke through the extended silence.

“Yeah, I'm here,” Harry sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, “Throw in some Oscar worthy roles and I'll make it seven weeks of silence.” he added sarcastically

“Shut up, Harry. You know I always have your best interests in mind.”

“I want that validation, Jeffery. I'm only getting older.”

Harry choked down a laugh as he could practically picture the exaggerated roll of Jeff's eyes. It was always humorous to play into the image that was carefully constructed for him. Vanity and fame meant nothing to Harry, but for some reason, the opposite illusion worked for the headlines, and his brand, and the public didn't really think anything of it. As long as Harry and those close to him knew who he truly was, he didn't mind dabbling in the persona every once and awhile.

“You're a pain in the ass,” Jeff snipped, American tone bleeding through the line, “But you've got yourself a deal. Seven weeks.”

“Alright, sounds good. Don't miss the sound of my voice too—”

The line went dead before Harry could get his last word out. Prick. He'd have to get him back for that later.

As the clock wound down closer to morning than midnight, Harry figured he should drag his body up the stairs, and into his bed. Oxfordshire was quiet this evening and he honestly wouldn't expect it to be any other way.

Seven more weeks of staying still. He could do this.

Summer beams warmed the ever growing back garden of Harry’s estate. Pool side looking every bit as tempting as the brunch gone cold in front of him, but three heavy stacks of printed dialogue kept him rooted to his seat. Jeff was meant to meet him here to discuss his future roles and which would be wisest for the longevity of his career. He was late, however. By nearly half an hour. Doubt was beginning to nip at Harry’s heels. Nerves and uncertainty tugging ruthlessly at the back of his mind.

Harry narrowed down dozens of choices to three.

All action packed. All roles where he's able to show off his stunting ability. Characters that do little to show his vulnerability and further convince the public he was as cool as he was on screen.

Every last one of these scripts were layered with brilliance. Yet, Harry couldn't help but feel they weren't right for him. Something was off and he couldn't quite reason why.

"I know, I know, I'm a dick!" Jeff exclaimed through winded breath as he clamoured through Harry’s back garden. Both of his hands raised in defense, one clenched to a script, and the other to his mobile. He's only twenty-five minutes late. Harry couldn't imagine what could've kept him so held up.

“You know, if it were me that was half an hour late, I would've never heard the end of it. Probably would've woken up to some publication slandering my punctuality on behalf of you.”

“As long as it's a credible publication.” Jeff made himself comfortable in the seat in front of Harry, plucking a strawberry from a bowl of fruit, and pushing the plates of brunch to the side. “Another meeting had me held up, sorry. Grabbed something on the way. Appreciate the effort though.”

Harry pushed aside the food in front of him as well. Stomach too full of tension for there to be room for anything else.

“S’alright. Should we just get to it, then?” Harry mumbled through bitten lips.

“Sure, what are your options?”

The midday sun warmed the back of Harry’s neck as he struggled through pitching the scripts in front of him. Slight breeze doing its best to soothe Harry’s tongue tied words, and tense shoulders, but ultimately failing in the end. The more he stumbled over himself, the more sweat began to collect at his temples, and every crevice of his body.

Fuck. He was usually so sure of what he wanted. Uncertainty gnawed at the corner of his words making it nearly impossible to articulate why he narrowed his choices down to these three alone. He wished he could get a fucking grip and swallow down whatever type of nervousness was rising to his throat like bile.

Jeff sat mostly wordless. Only speaking up to question Harry at the peak of his reasoning and sit back to watch him fumble once again. Jeff had to know Harry couldn't quite come up with a solid decision on his own. Was watching him drown in his own explanations as if he had something waiting behind his knowing stare. Something Harry’s choices couldn't match.

“Sounds like you've given this a lot of thought.” Jeff bit down a laugh and dodged a grape aimed straight for his head.

“Fuck you.” Harry threw his shoulders back against his seat, letting his skin bake under the balmy sun, and allowing his nerves to dissipate with the summer heat. Such a lovely day spent worrying rather than indulging. “You've yet to offer up any solid options, or advice, what am I paying you for?”

“Here's what you're paying me for.” Jeff slid over the script he'd been clenching to. Not as thick as the others but still held close to his chest like the print itself was scrawled in gold. “I know you're not going to like this but hear me out—”

Ardor, the title read in bold font. A script Harry briefly skimmed over before tossing it to the side.

A son of a farmer, living in the hills of Oxfordshire, disregarding the path set out for him since birth, and trading it in for rehearsals and stage lights. The character lets his life’s passion wholly consume him, leaving his family and relationships behind, and living out his dreams with only a pocket full of change. A hopeful yet devastating role when the main character severs these ties only to be faced with the harsh realities of Hollywood.

Just a bit too close to home for Harry’s taste. If Jeff read past the first few lines alone, he'd know this amount of vulnerability wasn't something Harry was too keen on.

“You and this film need each other.” Jeff leaned over to tap his fingers against the script rapidly. “This is what kept me held back from meeting you on time. This is going to be the turning point in your career, Harry.”

Harry eyed him warily. He's worked alongside Jeff for nearly seven years and has never heard his voice r each such assuredness. There was more to what he was saying, surely, and the knowing look in Jeff’s eyes left Harry curious. He was a bit hesitant to dig for more, seeing as Jeff prefaced everything with Harry not liking it, but his desire for the unknown was too intense, and he was eager to hear more.

“What makes you say that?” he questioned calmly from his sitting position, one leg crossed over the other, and forefinger stroking his prickly chin.

“Low budget film needs a recognizable name, said actor with recognizable name needs a vulnerable, artistic, role to set him apart from not only his contenders, but himself.” Jeff paused to let his words sink in. “Your last four films have had the same explosive storylines, H. It gets boring after a while and you start to lose your credibility as an artist.”

Harry recoiled at his words. Fear of repetition setting his skin aflame, and beads of sweat slowly extinguishing the burn. Jeff’s words stung. But he wasn't wrong.

“This role has depth, and art, and it's heartbreaking, and full of hope, it'll highlight your skills in a way that fighting crime and jumping off burning buildings won’t.”

“Excuse me,” Harry interrupted only slightly appalled. “It took enough bloody skill to jump from a burning building, Jeffery.”

“I know, I know, that's not what I'm saying at all.” Jeff sighed frustratedly as he sat up properly and puffed out his chest, “This role is special, yes. However, it's going to be overlooked like most art films if there's not a proper lead demanding the attention of not only the audience, but the academy. You've worked hard for all the recognition you've received, yeah? I think it's time you've earned yourself a nomination. I know you have the talent to turn this role into something memorable, and the producers over there want you, Harry. It's all we spoke about earlier, they're willing to renegotiate contracts, and start filming within the next two weeks if you agree to it. You have the power here.”

Harry’s stomach knotted in clusters. Weight of decisions and responsibility nearly bringing him to his knees. He didn't feel too powerful in the moment.

Jeff might have been onto something, though. Was making far too much sense to not be right. Harry did need this film and the production needed him. The storyline would shine a spotlight on his talents in new and undiscovered ways, and his name attached to the role alone, would raise interest, and allow the production to profit. All sides would win. Renegotiating contracts would be a pain to everyone involved, but Jeff and his trusted team always had a way with sorting everything out.

Something about this felt right. Felt like this was the next step Harry so desperately needed to take. Bring his career back to its roots and fall in love with the artistry all over again. It's just—. It's been so long since he's played a character so...normal.

“I know you're unsure about this but let me remind you how expected the other three roles are. Even you saw them coming and you couldn't even sell them to yourself.”

Fuck Jeff. He was a right prick, but right nonetheless.

“So—” Harry paused to chew against the inside of his cheek and consider his next questions carefully. “If I agree to this right now, we’ll be able to get things moving pretty quickly, yeah? I can come out of hiding and get back to work?”

“It'll take some convincing and a few favours, but yes. Absolutely.”

Jeff stared back at him unflinchingly and full of confidence. Never has he steered Harry wrong or led him to believe something was good for him when it wasn't. Jeff had all the strings in the industry to pull and he could definitely make this happen for him. The decision was practically as clear as the day above him.

“Give me a full day to get into character and I'll let you know by morning.”

“Great, I've already put us on the next flight to LA.”

“You what?!” Harry jerked forward in his seat as Jeff fiddled with his mobile.

“What? Twelve or so hours is enough time to feel out the character right?” he smirked without taking his eyes off the screen. “Most of the filming will be done just up the road, but deals have to be made in LA. You know this.”

Harry rolled his eyes and grabbed for the script. “I know you're a pain in my arse that's for sure.”

Jeff ignored him in favour of typing away at his mobile. Harry stood from the table and walked through his garden on bare feet, sun warming the earth below him. Finally. After months of moping around and lusting for his rightful place in front of a camera, it was finally happening. And so quickly. The script weighed heavy in his hands as the summer breeze flicked through the pages with interest. Small smile creeping up on him as his eyes caught glimpses of dialogue.

“Don’t wander off,” Jeff yelled from his spot at the table. “We have about two hours ‘til we need to leave!”

Harry threw a vague vulgar gesture over his shoulder and continued on his path through the garden.

This felt right. He finally felt sure. As if there was something special waiting on the other end of this role. Harry couldn't quite shake the adrenalized tremble in his bones, and quite frankly, he had no desire to.

Even when silent from slumber, London welcomed Harry with pink skies, and the feeling of optimism. High-rise buildings passed in a blur as he carefully sipped at his light roast blend, and let the steam from the caffeinated beverage render his exhaustion. Jeff sat alongside him. Business emails and phone calls already taking priority at the early hour. Fittings for Ardor were scheduled for the day. Dozens of different costumes to be tailored to his body and the first real opportunity to properly introduce this character to himself.

The studio appeared to his right as the vehicle rolled to a stop. Harry stumbled from the car door as gracefully as he could manage and did his best to follow behind Jeff’s ambitious strides. The first floor seemed quiet. Lobby vacant of visitors and a receptionist only offering a polite nod. The elevator ride up was smooth. Dragged on for far longer than expected and led them both into the belly of chaos.

Multiple clothing racks and rolling steamers pushed vehemently across the floor by employees and interns alike. Voices shouting over voices and sketches tacked against the walls by the dozens. A room stocked the the brim with seemingly unsystematic energy and a thriving sense of proficiency. Harry felt a bit of motion sickness just standing there.

“There's the man with all the power!” a voice broke through the madness and seemed to stop everything in its tracks.

Wandering eyes shifted over to Harry. Some awed, some impressed, some completely indifferent to him as a whole. Awkwardly, he lifted a hand, and let a tight lipped smiled slip onto his face.

“Well don't just stand there darling, we have loads of work to do.” A silver-haired woman surrounded by prestigiously dressed employees, and a child clinging to her leg, broke through the silence again. “That goes for everyone, yeah? Back to work.”

Harry sought out Jeff for answers, but was only met with the back of his head as he moved to greet the woman.

“Lou, it's good to see you again.” Jeff greeted her with a kiss on the cheek. “Harry this is Lou Teasdale, costume designer. Lou, this is my client, Harry Styles.”

Harry slightly bowed before taking her hand and shaking firmly. Her grip was loose. Something that immediately rubbed Harry the wrong way.

“So you're the lad responsible for all the madness?” she said with a smile, yet her words had a bit of a bite to them. Harry had no idea what she was on about either.

Best to just roll with it then.

“That would be me.” he easily flashed his dimples and subtly bat his lashes. “It's a pleasure meeting you, Lou. I'm looking forward to working with you.”

She eyed him for a moment. Arms crossed over her chest and and mouth pursed in consideration. It was a bit nerve wracking. He couldn't help but continue to smile convincingly in the madness around him. He felt the eyes of who he assumed was her daughter staring up at him, big, curious, and full of wonder. He offered up a small wave, which sent the child running behind her legs. Oops.

“At least he’s charming.” She hitched the girl up on her hip and grabbed him by the arm. “Come along, then.”

Lou began to walk him, and her entourage, towards a room in the back. Harry desperately looked over his shoulder. Pleading eyes meeting Jeff’s and Jeff’s offering up absolutely no emotion. Harry couldn't help but wonder if he was the only one that noticed everyone was a bit cold. Not rude, per se. Just not warming up to him as quickly as he's used to.

“Louis, babe, your assistance is needed.”

Harry turned to look into the room. Sight instantly drawn to a man sat by himself near the window. Nose submerged in a book and pencil sketching designs in the margin. His brown hair disheveled without messy product and sleepless circles thinly bruising beneath his eyes. He was lovely. Skin the shade of marmalade and lips appearing just as sweet.

Fuck, Harry was so single.

“If you'll take his measurements and help him dress, yeah? Just pin any adjustments and write down everything else – we’ll get to tailoring later – I just need to speak with his manager for a bit.”

Louis stood from his seat, giving Harry a quick once over, and noticeably flushing at the sight. Harry didn't mean to smirk, but as soon as the corners of his mouth lifted, Louis’ mood seemed to shift.

“Sure, Lou. Should be finished with him soon.”

Lou nodded as she led Jeff out of the room, quietly discussing business, and entourage obediently following behind. Harry stepped passed the doorway, shutting it behind him, and placing himself in the middle of the room. Louis moved with such elegance. Effortlessly making a dance out of pulling clothing racks across the floor. Harry couldn't take his eyes off him even as Louis’ paid him no mind.

Tongue tied even in his brain, Harry struggled to come up with a line worthy enough for introductions.

“This process will go a bit quicker if you undress—” Louis looked up at him with brilliant eyes. He was so gorgeous. “You know, instead of just standing there.”

Harry chuckled under his breath. Lips curling into a smile as Louis flicked to a fresh page in his journal, and unwound a tape measure from his neck.

“Should probably get to know me a bit better, yeah? At least be on a first name basis before you see the goods.”

Louis rolled his eyes with a shake of his head. Clearly irritated and not at all amused with Harry’s flirting. Without a word, he crossed his arms over his chest, impatiently tapping his foot, and waiting for Harry to get on with it. A zing of chills traveled down Harry’s spine as Louis’ relentless stare bored into him.

“M’Harry,” he softly introduced as he unbuttoned his blouse and let it slide off his shoulders. “And you are?”

“Your costume standby.” tape measure circled around Harry’s neck as Louis removed it and penciled in a measurement, “No need to patronize me while we’re here. The sooner we get this done, the better.”

Harry's brows creased as he watched Louis take measurements in the mirror. Jesus. What was in the air today? Seemed like everyone had a chip on their shoulder.

“I wasn't patronizing you.” he spoke earnestly ”Just wanted your name is all.”

“Lift.” Louis instructed. Harry raised his arms slightly, allowing Louis to wrap the tape up around his chest, and back down to his waist. He moved with such precision and attentiveness. Scribbling in measurements and working around Harry’s body with ease. It took everything within Harry not to shiver at his touch. “Remove your trousers for me, please.”

Harry watched as Louis grabbed his blouse from the floor, and hung it carefully on a separate rack. So delicate with everything. Even in the way he handled clothing. Harry was quite possibly smitten.

He slipped out of his boots and took his trousers along with him. Louis quickly grabbing for both and storing them away properly.

“So if you're my costume standby, that means we’ll be working together daily, yes?” Harry questioned as Louis squat to the ground in front of him.

“Correct.” Louis replied dryly. Hands moving to Harry's thighs and tape wrapping snugly around them.

Harry averted his vision to the ceiling. It had been far too long since he had a pretty boy on his knees for him, especially one this pretty. The visuals were stunning, but now was clearly not the appropriate time.

“We should probably try to get along then, yeah? Should at least be able to address each other by name? Maybe even become mates, or summat?”

“I have enough mates as I'm sure you do too.”

“I'm quite lonely, actually.” Harry admitted as he looked down to find Louis measuring his inseam. Christ. “I could–I could use a friend, you know? Someone who's nice. You seem nice enough. But I'll need your name to be friends, yeah? I think it’s only fair—”

“Are you normally this chatty during fittings?” his voice was humorless and his eyes were focused on the journal in front of him.

“No, not normally.” Harry smiled as Louis rose to his full height and gave him a second of his attention. “You're just special, I guess.”

Louis’ face twisted in discomfort as he shut his book of measurements and grabbed for the costume closest to him. Harry was fighting a losing battle and he knew it. He just couldn't help himself.

“Are you not charmed?” Harry asked with a slight quirk of the lips.

Louis wordlessly began to dress his upper body, carefully buttoning up a crisp collared shirt, and rubbing out the wrinkles across his shoulders. The material fit nicely and having Louis’ delicate hands feeling out the fabric had him nearly trembling.

“Not everyone is going to fall for the Harry Styles charm.” Louis replied dryly. Not even looking up to address him.

“I've noticed,” Harry followed Louis’ movements in the mirror as he went to select a pair of trousers from the rack. “No one here has taken a liking to me it seems.”

“Hm, I can't imagine why.” his words were laced with sarcasm and scoff. “Will you step into these trousers for me, please?”

Harry took the clothing from Louis’ hold with pinched brows, “What aren't you telling me, Louis?”

Mmm. His name felt good against Harry’s lips.

“How d’you know my name?” Louis bit with equally pinched brows.

“Answer my question first.”

“Don't be a child! Tell me how you know my name.”

“Lou addressed you when we walked in here together.” he raised his hands in defense. “I paid attention because you're gorgeous.”

Louis eyed him. Disgust clear in his stare.

“You might want to cut that out, yeah? Only does more damage around here.”

“What do you mean?”

“Attempting to charm the people beneath you as you use them as a stepping stool.”

Louis reached for the trousers in Harry’s hold, assumedly to dress Harry through the awkwardness, but Harry resisted, and looked louis in the eye.

“What do you mean by that? I've done nothing to use anyone as a stepping—”

“Nothing? You think you've done nothing?” Louis placed his hands on his hips with a look of disbelief. “Nothing at all?”

“No, I haven't.” Harry defended only slightly peeved. “I've been holed up for months. I didn't even know you existed before today.”

“Well, at least you've got that part right, darling.” Louis smiled a cunning smile, but it was breathtaking nonetheless. “You didn't know I, or any of us, existed, and surely you had no idea of our plans and ideas for the costumes in this film.”

“I can't be at fault for that—”

“No, of course not. We both agree on that.” Louis stepped up to him slowly. Leaving their bodies only a breath apart, and winding his measuring tape back around Harry’s hips. “Tell me what you think happens when production gets rolling weeks before scheduled?”

Harry swallowed thickly as he followed the movement of Louis’ tongue licking his lips. It was hard to come up with cohesive thoughts when Louis was clearly setting him up for a grilling, but continued to press their bodies together.

“Um–madness, I would assume. Sort of like what I walked in on this morning.”

“Mhmm.” Louis looked up from under his endless lashes and dragged the measuring up against Harry’s skin. It was fucking maddening. Harry couldn't resist clutching to the fabric of Louis’ hips. “And when someone like me assumes they have weeks to submit their designs to Lou Teasdale, because she's given them an incredible opportunity, and that opportunity is suddenly ripped from beneath them, how do you think that person feels about the man holding the rug?”

“Um, fuck—” Harry went breathless as the front of his pants slightly dragged against Louis’ trousers. It had been far too long since he's had intimacy and Louis seemed to catch onto that rather quickly. Any slight touch to Harry’s cock was bound to get him off. “I would–I would imagine there would be some resentment, yeah? Some–fuck–um...bitterness? Wouldn't know, though. Haven't been in that position for years. I would assume by your attitude I'm not too far off.”

“Mhmm. You're a smart one aren't you?” Louis dropped the measuring tape from around Harry’s waist and brought his hands to fit around Harry’s biceps. God, their bodies were so bloody close. “I guess that's why you chose this role in the first place, innit? A smart choice, hm? A low budget role where you get to voice your demands, maybe even snag an Oscar nom, and that skeevy manager of yours makes it all happen with favours, and promises, and your name in the credits. It's smart for you, of course. Your career will flourish, darling.” he gently trailed his fingers up Harry's chest softly rubbing at the skin, and moving to thread his fingers through Harry’s short hair, “But the rest of us are caught under your shoe and sleepless from making this production possible. You'd do best to drop the charming act, when we both know how easily you’d use us again for your own gain.”

Louis gave his scalp a sharp tug, forcing a gasp out of Harry, before he stepped back and shoved his journal into Harry’s chest. He looked hurt and above all angry.

“Well m’sorry for what it looks like, babe. But the producers wanted me just as much as I wanted this role.” he reached out and gently cupped the side of Louis’ face, “You needed me as well, huh? Who else's body would you have designed for had Lou not given you my name?”

“You weren't even considered for the bloody role by then.” he shoved away Harry’s hand with rage, “All of my sketches are of clothing because auditions hadn't even been held yet. Because the role hadn't been handed to you yet. While I was out there trying to make something of myself, you destroyed the one opportunity I earned, because you couldn't go too long without your name in the headlines.”

Harry stood mildly shocked. No one has ever spoken to him this way. With such vivid disdain and devastatingly betrayed eyes. Harry felt a pang of guilt in his chest. Everyone always immediately adored Harry. Loved working with him and always greeted him with a smile on their face. Going from that to this was not a transition he'd like to get used to.

“Louis–I'm–Had I known you were—”

“S’too late for that now, Harry. We both know nothing can be undone.”

Louis smoothed out the wrinkles of his clothing as he draped his measuring tape over Harry’s shoulders, and moved to walk out of the room.

“Wait–where are you going?” Harry was stood in a button up and pants, clutching to only Louis’ journal, and praying his slightly hard cock wasn't visible. Totally inappropriate. Now more than ever.

“I'll be back to stroke your ego soon, don't worry, Hollywood.” he smirked as his dainty fingers curled around the door knob. “Just need a bit more coffee to get myself through it.”

Fuck. He was gorgeous even when he was leaving Harry half hard and remorseful. His cock had seemingly never known arousal before Louis entered his life.

The door slammed behind him as Louis exited the room.

Fuck. It was all quite strange. Louis easily ripped him to shreds yet Harry was still weirdly turned on. And Louis did it all to him with a radiant smile on his face.

Jesus, Harry would love to figure him out.

Guilt and shame pricked at Harry’s skin as Louis’ journal weighed heavy in his hands. He flicked through the pages carefully. Most sketches were left incomplete, but others were finished, and brilliant. His vision for this film and this character was so clear in the strokes of his pen alone. He was obviously talented and Harry could tell this opportunity meant the world to him. It must have been painful for Louis to dress him in costumes that weren't his own, knowing they could have been.

“Fuck.” Harry mumbled under his breath as he discreetly adjusted himself.

It was quite a shitty feeling. Harry didn’t intend to use anyone as his stepping stool, but there was absolutely no denying what he did. Or what it looked like he did. Harry clutched the journal shut and glanced up at his reflection. Ugh. What a poor sight. Guilt didn't look good on him at all.

Louis didn't seem like the type to forgive easily. But that was no matter. Harry always fancied himself a challenge, and he wouldn't stop until all was well between them.

He could only hope Louis was as willing to give him that chance.

First few hours on set stretched on as expected. Table read occupied most of the adrenaline induced morning, forcing Harry to jitter and squirm silently in his seat. Buzz underneath his skin ate away at the pit of nerves in his stomach and his stuttering tongue relaxed line by line. He couldn't wait to get in front of a camera and bring Ardor to life.

Costume standby was awaiting his arrival at his trailer and Harry knew that meant Louis. Last week’s dress rehearsals went colourless without his boundless enticement and intoxicating allure. He didn't appear to be anywhere near the table read through either. Harry searched for him in every corner of the set. From the amorphous labyrinth of trailers, to the posh garden of the estate they were filming at, it was hopeless. Not a single body moved as graceful. Not a single smile had Harry weak in the knees. The entirety of the run through left Harry longing for just a glimpse of his perfect face and clever tongue.

It wasn't a secret to Harry, or anyone, that Louis couldn't stand him, but there was still an overwhelming need for Harry to impress him. To convince him he was wrong about Harry Styles and that Harry - himself - was actually someone he could warm up to. And Harry might've had a way to make that possible.

“Harry!” Jeff called from somewhere behind him. Nasally Californian accent even more prominent in the British setting.

Christ. It truly seemed like he couldn't go more than a minute without Jeff hovering over his bloody shoulder. Harry kept his pace. Walking with his head held high and smirking at the sound of Jeff’s labored breaths catching up with him.

“Hey, you dick,” a hand smacked against his back as Jeff caught up to his side. “I've been trying to find you—you hightailed it out of the reading. Everything good?”

Harry shrugged with a lingering smile, “I'm eager to get started, I dunno.”

“Yeah, sure.” he scoffed, “You're eager to see that Louis guy. I have no idea how you land all these roles when you're such a shit actor.”

Harry stopped in his tracks, placing one hand upon his hip, and shielding his eyes with the other. Jeff seemed all too pleased with his previous remark. Shit eating grin plastered across his face.

“Was there something you needed, Jeffery?”

“Oh. Nah, not really.” Jeff shrugged. “Just wanted to wish my favourite client good luck since I'll be off set for a few weeks.”

“I believe the proper phrase is break a leg, but thanks.”

“Break a leg then.” Jeff pat him on the shoulder and began to move away, “I'll check in every now and then. Don't forget about your proposition to Louis, yeah? Took hours of convincing. I worked hard on that one.”

“Don't worry, mate, I haven't, and I was on my way before you so pointlessly interrupted me.” Harry laughed as Jeff responded with a roll of his eyes, and a turn of his heel. Quite sensitive lad. “I’ll see you, Jeff! Thanks for everything!”

Harry was waved off with a middle finger. Oh well. Jeff would be fine eventually. A small smile grew into Harry’s cheeks as he set back off towards his trailer. The thought of seeing Louis crept back into his mind and his stomach churned with a nervousness he hadn't felt in ages.

The sun beamed as the butterflies fluttered aimlessly. Minimal clouds shaded the walkway as a summer breeze gently carried him on towards his destination. Harry felt lighter with each step closer to the boy, and excitement bubbled through his veins at the mere thought of spending time alone with him. It didn't go too well the last time around, but Harry was confident he would be able to sweep Louis off his feet this time.

His wandering came to a halt as he reached the the sleek door of his massive trailer. The other trailers surrounding his seemingly dwarfed in comparison. Not really a good look. Kind of fed into the whole Harry Styles mega star image. With a shake of his head, Harry pulled open the door. Cool air, jasmine, and rose scents hit across his face in a gentle caress. It was actually quite lovely and welcoming. Jeff must have passed along the fresh flowers and scented candles memo.

Harry took a peek around the posh space. Sleek counters and leather sofas. Curtains drawn shut, and drowning out any light in the small living area around him. Not a single sign of Louis. Only proof of anyone being here was the soft glow of the flickering flames.

“Louis?” Harry called out to no answer. “Anyone here?”

Shuffling could be heard from down the hall. Harry stepped in the direction, swallowing down his pesky giddiness, and pushing through the slightly cracked door.

Goodness. Louis sat crouched in a squat position. Golden brown hair sweeping over his gentle eyes, and fingers carefully stitching the end of a trouser leg. His concentration went unscathed as Harry shut the door behind him. Nimble fingers toying with the needle and thread, and bottom lip bitten between his teeth. Even with his brows pinched together, his face remained soft. Harry wanted to reach out and touch.

“Hey, Louis.” Harry spoke slower and more tender than intended. “What’re you doing in my trailer with the curtains drawn and candles lit?”

“It was like that when I arrived.” Louis snipped without looking up. “I didn't want a lawsuit on my hands for touching your things, so I just left it alone.”

“Hmm, is that so? You really think that way of me?” Harry drawled as Louis hummed out a quiet mhmm. “Well, in that case, you have my explicit permission to make yourself at home here. Anything on this trailer is yours to touch, whenever you please.” The including me went implied, but unsaid.

Louis sighed frustratedly as he stood from his crouched position. Harry didn't miss the pink tinge that warmed his cheeks.

“You're an idiot.” Louis shook his head humorlessly. “Let's get you dressed, yeah? We’re already running late.”

“We have at least an hour, babes. No rush.” Harry stepped over towards the sofa, laying his body down against it, and stretching his arms out above his head. “Where have you been, hm? Haven't seen you since fittings. I was beginning to worry.”

“They needed me in tailoring because somebody had to have production rolling early.” Louis pushed his palms into his eyes and scrubbed irritatedly. “I feel like I haven't slept in weeks.”

“There's a bedroom down the hall, love.” Harry offered in a gentle tone. “You can use it anytime you’d like. Might even join you later this afternoon.”

“Absolutely not.” Louis clipped. “No rest for the weary, Harry.”

Oh.

That was a beautiful sound. His name slipping from Louis’ lips for the first time since they met.

Harry would give anything just to hear him say it again.

“You deserve it though.” Harry sat up straight against the sofa. “I’d imagine your hands and neck are cramped and sore. Your eyes have probably been strained for days—”

“I don’t need you to pity me, yeah? Just get up so I can get you dressed.”

“It’s not pity, love,” Harry carefully stood from the sofa. Slowly striding towards Louis and the clothing rack, and gradually unfastening the buttons of his shirt, “I just think - if you're working as hard as you are - you should at least be doing what you love.”

Harry let his silk shirt slip from his shoulders and shivered when Louis snatched it from his body. It wouldn't be the first time he was topless around him, but it was the first time Louis visibly flushed at the sight of his body.

“We don't all have the privilege of being Harry Styles.” he aggressively hung Harry's shirt on the clothing rack, causing a small ruckus in the tiny room. “Opportunities don't just fall into our laps.”

“What if one did, babe? Would you take it?” Harry questioned cryptically as he stepped in closer and leaned an arm up against the rack.

The blues in Louis’ eyes were greener up this close. Harry felt beyond fortunate to have the opportunity to notice this detail.

“What are you on about?” Louis’ tone dropped to nearly a whisper.

“Costume design is your dream, yeah? Tailoring and dressing actors isn't what you want to do forever.” Harry stepped closer and let his eyes easily linger on Louis’. “How do either of those benefit you, hm? Other than being able to ogle me.”

“Ughhh—” Louis rolled his eyes at that last part and crossed his arms in front of him, “Tailoring is a skill, but costume standby pays my uni debt.” Louis shrugged looking more vulnerable than he seemed to like to. Maybe it slipped. Maybe Harry wasn't meant to know and Louis was just too exhausted to filter his words. Either way it was out there now. “Why do you suddenly care anyway? All of my design dreams were shot to hell as soon as you picked up this script.”

“Well, because I can fix that.”

Harry stepped just a bit closer. Leaving only Louis’ crossed arms between them. His stubbornness seemed to visibly waver as he took in the tan skin and light dusting of hair against Harry’s chest. The look alone did wonders for Harry’s ego.

“What d’you mean?” Louis uncrossed his arms and placed them on his hips, seemingly interested.

“My manager and I convinced Lou to let you come up with a look for me.” Harry smiled deep. Dimple easing its way into his right cheek. “You’ll be limited on time but I wiggled it out of her. Told her I had the pleasure of seeing some of your sketches and she took my word for it.”

Louis stood motionless. Face void of emotion and mood in the room completely unreadable. Before this, Harry assumed Louis would have bounced around with joy. Maybe even would have went as far as to throw his arms around Harry and thank him endlessly. At the very least, he expected Louis to go red in the cheeks with excitement. When that didn't immediately happen, worry began to settle in Harry’s stomach.

“What do you say, Louis? I think this would be a great opportunity for you and—”

“Have you completely lost all sense of right and wrong over there in Hollywood?”

Harry stilled in confusion. “What—”

“Do you really think you're doing me a favour by using your charm to get my designs out there? Do you really think that adds to my credibility as a designer?”

“Connections get you far in this industry, Louis. I've worked hard for many years to build up my brand and image but—”

“And you think I wouldn't want to do the same for myself? You think I want to be known as the person who got their start from a Harry Styles recommendation and not from my work alone?” Louis’ breathing increased with his anger as Harry stood topless and shocked, “I’m willing to pay my dues and work hard for my spot in this industry. That's why Lou Teasdale offered up that opportunity in the first place! She admired my work ethic and I spent hours under her wing for that once in a lifetime chance. I did it on my own and I can do it again without your guilt riddled offer.”

“Louis that's not what I was trying to do I—”

“You were trying to win me over with this weren't you? You knew word would travel fast around set and you wouldn't seem like such a bad guy after all.”

Harry couldn't move. Harry couldn't breathe. He was caught between every last chill rolling down his spine and his heartbeat picking up in speed. Louis was right. Fuck, he was fucking right. Harry knew the favor he pulled for Louis would get around to different crews and different departments. He had hoped it would not only soften Louis towards him, but anyone else who resented him for pushing production to start early. Louis saw right through him. Harry fucked up. Badly. And this was not the way he planned for things to turn out.

“I don't need your hand out, darling, and I humbly decline any future offers to design for Harry Styles.”

“Lou–don’t….don’t—”

“You can get yourself dressed, yeah? M’really not up for this right now.” Louis shouldered his way past a dumbfounded Harry and paused right before the doorway. “You know, it would've been different if it was truly done out of the kindness of your heart. But it wasn't. This was all some sort of mutually beneficial business deal that went wrong. I believe your heart was in the right place when you thought this up, but I'm not your charity case, nor your chance at redemption either, love.”

Harry turned to face him and the hurt in his eyes. Even after something so insulting, Louis seemed to remain level headed and soft spoken. Something that was so rare and uncommon in their line of work.

“Hair and makeup will need you soon. I'll see you again around three.” Without another word Louis turned out the door and went on his way.

Fucking hell.

Guilt and shame washed over Harry like an unforgiving tidal wave and Louis’ words stung in all the soft corners of his brain. If he felt this horrible, he couldn't imagine how sickly Louis must be feeling.

Jesus, he truly felt like he was doing the right thing for both of them. If only he would have thought this through a bit more carefully. Maybe just left it alone all together and let Louis warm up to him on his own.

He felt like a giant prick.

A giant prick that wasted too much of his free time and now needed to be on his way. Louis should be here. Should be the one to dress Harry and pin him in all the right places. But he wasn't. And Harry wasn't sure how he was ever going to earn a spot on his good side.

In front of the camera is where Harry thrives.

Well rehearsed lines flow from his mouth effortlessly, charisma exudes brightly from every facial expression, strides and animated movements are carefully planned and well executed. There wasn't a feeling quite like getting into character for the first time. Harry was nervous yet relaxed. Was slightly insecure in front of the new crew yet knew this set was exactly where he was meant to be.

Set lights usually served to drown out the examining eyes and critical whispers, but something about Louis being in the room dulled their intensity, and did little to keep Harry’s eyes from flickering over to his. The first few takes, before Louis showed up, went without a hitch. Harry nailed his lines and even improvised when needed. He knew he gave the production a solid first impression, but as soon as action was called, and Louis caught his eye, Harry began to stumble over his lines, felt himself heat up under the collar of his shirt, and ultimately cocked up his entire performance.

“Alright, let's stop right there for a minute.” James, the director, hollered as Harry flubbed yet another line. “Harry we’re going to come back to this, alright? Can someone fix his wardrobe please? His collar is going to drive me mad.”

The crew seemed to disperse as Louis approached him with a raised brow and an all too attractive smirk on his lips. There was no one else in the room to Harry. No one other than Louis to witness the stutter in his breathing as his delicate hands traveled up his chest.

“You know, for everything we went through to get you into this role, you're sort of doing a shit job in return.” Louis giggled under his breath as he adjusted the collar of Harry’s shirt gently. “Can't say I’m too impressed, Harry.”

Fuck, his smile was so pretty. His spirits seemed to be in a higher place than they were this morning. Frown and lack of warmth for Harry completely replaced by fluttering lashes and a shimmering glow in the apples of his cheeks. He almost seemed...playful. Maybe even a bit cheeky. As if seeing Harry fumble through his performance brought him some weird sense of joy. Harry decided not to question it. Figured it's best to bask and indulge in this newer side of Louis.

“Oh yeah?” Harry questioned as his right dimple carved its way into his cheek. “S’that what it'll take to get me off your shit list? You want me to impress you, babe?”

“M’not so easily amused,” he sneakily ran a hand through the back of Harry’s freshly trimmed hair and scratched lightly against his scalp. Fuck. Was this actually happening? Was anyone around them actually seeing this too? A touchy-feely, softer, Louis? “But you're welcome to try sometime. Show me why this role was given to you and all.”

“Oh, I'll show you something that was given to me.” Harry’s voice dropped low in tone as he further crowded Louis’ space.

“That one wasn't even clever.” Louis tugged on the hairs at the back of his neck, causing Harry to hiss out in pain. “You're far more charming when your mouth is kept shut.”

“Is this your way of flirting with me?” Harry asked through hooded eyes and a twitch of his cock. “Cos I’m kind of into it if I'm honest.”

“You couldn't land me even if I did fancy my colleagues.” Louis’ eyes shined underneath the set lights with mischief and mirth. Harry wanted to press a kiss in the space between them. “You're just easily riled up, and you deserve a bit a ribbing, don't you think? S’only fair after everything you've done to me.”

“I'll take it all on the chin so long as you're on speaking terms with me.”

“God, you're pathetic.”

“And yet, you're still standing here.”

Harry chanced a step forward, and to his surprise, was met with a curl of Louis’ lips. He was unpredictable and fickle, and it only served to draw Harry in further.

“It’s my job,” he spoke through tantalizing pink lips, “Someone has to keep you looking fit.”

“I think I do just fine on my own, sweetheart.” Harry shot a wink and inwardly celebrated at the tinge of Louis’ cheeks. “Wouldn't you agree?”

“Well, besides your head being about as big as your ego—”

Harry cut him off with a pinch of the hip and his lip half bitten. Louis’ laughter was alluring, colourful, and contagious, but Harry didn't want to let his honk of a laugh slip out just yet. He was content to watch Louis squirm, however. It felt nice. Felt something close to comfortable. Such a lovely contrast to the morning they had together.

Speaking of, he should probably apologize for that.

“Hey, um, about this morning—”

“Alright! Back to your positions everyone.” James’ voice cut through every corner of the set, sending everyone scattering back to their places.

Harry didn't have a moment to spare before Louis was tiptoeing his way back behind the cameras. Traces of previous warmth gone from his face and smile lines set back into to a frown. Back to business for him. Back to being colleagues that couldn't bloody stand each other.

Harry shoved a hand through his quiffed hair, and shook himself from his Louis induced daze. But not for long. Rolling! Rolling! was shouted through the madness as Harry locked eyes with his over the cameras and through the shadows of the set lights. The inner performer rumbled from within him and had a sudden urge to be let free. To show Louis just what he was capable of and prove to him that all of his hard work was worthwhile.

It was quite strange how Louis’ presence alone was enough motivation for Harry to put out the best version of himself. Made him want to do better, to be better, without even really knowing Louis at all. It was an unfamiliar feeling, but Harry wouldn't mind getting used to it.

Action!

First day on set came to a long, drawn out, yet satisfying wrap. Dusk settled over the rolling hills of Oxfordshire in a gentle wave and the evening sky began to glitter with twinkling lights. The stars were always brighter and more vivid outside of London or LA. Harry lost himself in the not quite visible view of constellations from the window of his trailer. He was putting off stepping into his awaiting town car, and leaving this place, for as long as he possibly could. He didn't fancy heading back to an empty estate when he felt more comfortable right where he was. It shouldn't be that way, should it? After a long day of filming, he should be aching to go home. To be in the one place he's most familiar with.

A muffled voice drew him out of his somber and lonely daydreams—bloody hell. Louis rounded the corner, rid of his entirely black wardrobe from earlier, and slipped into a tight pair of jeans and a cut off white shirt. Tan skin of his tummy and succulent curves fully out on display, and Louis making no effort to hide them. Fuck, his body was gorgeous. The delicate slope of his back, down to the soft outline of his arse, and perfect thighs. Harry wanted to take a bite out of him. Just experience a lingering taste of what he had to offer. Louis’ body was designed to be roughed up and kiss bitten.

Without another thought, Harry hurled himself from the sofa, and stumbled out the door. No speech prepared or practiced lines, he just had an overwhelming need to end the day with Louis.

It also wouldn't hurt to see his marvelously skimpy outfit up close.

“Louis!” Harry yelled out across the lot, bypassing his awaiting car, and jogging in his direction.

Louis paid him no mind. Breeze flicking his fringe angelically and bare hips swaying in time with his steps. The world was his runway and Harry was honored to be front row.

“Lou—hey,”

Any words that may have been waiting against Harry's tongue, were stolen from him just as quickly as the breath in his lungs. Louis had freckles. Little specks dotting his left cheek and one lingering near the corner of his eye. Harry would spend the rest of the evening discovering new, endearing, quirks about this beautiful man if he’d have him.

“You–um–you changed.” Harry mindlessly babbled as Louis shot him a glare. “Your clothes, I mean. You changed your clothes. You look great. Um, quite fit, actually.”

Harry laughed awkwardly as Louis remained silent and kept up his speed. Fuck, if only he'd slow down for a sec. Harry couldn't take his eyes off the flawless skin Louis’ hips. He wanted so badly to reach out and touch, and feel how he was softer than he looked.

“So umm. Where are you headed, love?”

“The shuttle.” Louis answered lowly. Keeping his head down and lightly scratching at the skin beneath his belly button.

“Shuttle? For what?”

“To catch the train back to London.” Louis looked up and met Harry’s heavy gaze. “As much as I'd fancy a chat with you, this is the last shuttle, and I can't miss it. Don't wanna be stuck here all night.”

“Well, let me give you a lift then.” Harry sincerely offered as Louis rolled his eyes. “No seriously, I only live up the road, I can have my driver take you home.”

“Jesus, Harry, I forgive you for this morning. You don't have to treat me any differently than you would anyone else.”

“What?” Harry's brows dipped in bewilderment, “What are you on about? What do you mean treat you any—”

“Look, I've had a really long day, and I have a long train ride ahead of me, I just want to be left alone, yeah?”

“But I only offered a ride, what does that have to do with this morning?”

Louis halted all movements in a dramatic fashion and turned to face a slightly winded Harry.

“You don't know me, Harry. You know nothing about me, or who I am, or where I come from, and yet you won't quit pestering me with your guilt ridden offers. Why is that? Why hasn't anyone else on set received the same treatment?”

Harry was stuck, once again. “Louis—I…”

“What is it that makes you pity me?”

“That's not what I'm doing, Lou. I just—” Harry struggled to put it into words. He knew it looked to be how Louis was interpreting it, but it was not Harry's intention. He just….liked him. Wanted to get to know him. Wanted to be kind and friendly, and hopefully have Louis warm up to him. It didn't seem to be working, however. Their situation felt more like a juvenile, one sided, crush gone wrong. “I don't know. I just want to show you I'm not as horrible as you think.”

“I don't think you're horrible, Harry.” Louis crossed his arms over his chest, whilst giving Harry a slight once over. “I just don't want to feel like your project.”

“You're not, babe. I just—”

“Then don't treat me like one. I've already made it clear I don't want to be your charity case.” Louis chided as he took a step back and shook his head.

“Louis that's not my intention–”

“M’gonna be late yeah? I'm sure you have an upcoming model waiting at your place, anyway.” Louis left without another word, adjusting his collar up over his shoulder, and jogging his way out of sight.

Jesus. A parting line so cold the both of them would still feel the effects come tomorrow morning.

Harry felt fucking defeated. There was no winning in this situation. No convincing Louis, Harry wasn't the person he clearly thought him to be.

Christ, and it was only the first day on set. How was he meant to get on with Louis for the next several months?

His boots dragged as he buried his face in his hands and made his way towards his town car. Guilt and shame clawed at his conscious and would surely eat away at him for the rest of the evening. The look of hurt on Louis’ face replayed on a loop, and Harry’s twisted desire to know what made Louis so defensive, jabbed at his curiosity. There was a reason Louis was so guarded. So fiercely protective over his reputation and how he wanted to be seen as an equal.

Harry would give anything to know Louis just a bit better. Even if it was clear Louis disliked him and wouldn't give him the time of day, famous or not. He was an attractive mystery. One that had Harry enticed and longing for more. But for now, he needed to mend what little relationship they had between them. And if that meant giving Louis his space, and keeping it professional, so be it.

The early beams of Oxford’s dawn cast upon his knackered eyes unforgivingly. Clock near his bedside read half an hour past four and unseasonal heat slipped it's way under his bedsheets. A useless night's sleep. Tossing and thrashing about only to lie awake hours before he was due on set.

Harry forcibly stood up from his uncomfortable position in his bed. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes and unsteadily clambering his overheated body towards the en suite. A cool shower would do him well. Clean his sweat sheened body and fully wake him up at the early hour. Water sprinkled from the ceiling as he turned the knobs to his preferred settings. Not having to worry about sleeping in clothing, he stepped right under the spray, and shivered as he closed the glass door behind him.

Eyes slipped shut, he let the coolness beat down against his tense shoulders. Rolling his neck side to side and doing his best to keep his thoughts at bay. It was far too early to over think yesterday's events, and far too early to let himself be torn up over it, again, like the night behind him. Instead, he watched as the beads of water trailed aimlessly over his body. Down his torso, over his laurel tattooed hips, and down the length of his legs until they swirled into the black hole of his drain.

Flashes of Louis’ supple skin clouded Harry’s imagination. He couldn't help but wonder how erotic the sight of a dripping wet Louis would be. Streams of water sliding down every curve and dip of his body and his golden skin glistening under the flattering mist. Harry bit his lip harshly as the first twitch of his cock had his adrenaline pumping. It felt sort of strange. Contemplating a wank over a beautiful colleague and nothing more. Not to mention the amount of disdain that was felt on the other side.

Harry figured if he couldn't rid him from his mind, he could at least attempt to fist fuck him out of his system.

Right hand loosely wrapped around his length, Harry conjured up images of Louis’ hips and incredible arse. He sighed at the vision of freshly licked pink lips, and just how sinful they'd look stretched around his cock. Harry did his best to push aside every snarky remark that left that same mouth.

Tightening his grip, Harry picked up his pace and imagined Louis bare and begging. God, what he wouldn't give to have Louis’ legs spread wide for him, and his tight hole out on display. Cheeks of his arse pink and burning from Harry’s hands alone, and flawless thighs prettily bruised by the hunger of Harry's mouth. Fuck, he just wanted to rough him up a bit and bring him back down to earth. Take care of the whimpering boy and have his body trembling from a mind blowing fuck.

The steamy images should have been enough to get Harry off. His imagination revealed his deepest desires he didn't even realize he was into. But guilt overpowered his need for a one sided pitiful orgasm. Harry desperately flicked his wrist against his inevitably softening cock. Thumbing his slit in a haste and scrunching up his features to focus on what was left of the pleasure. It was bloody useless. He was sure he wouldn't be able to get off even if Louis were stood right in front of him.

“Fucking hell.” Harry groaned, clearly irritated as his wrongdoings infiltrated his sensual fantasies.

The only substance swirling down the drain this morning would be sudsy and violet scented. Harry felt fucking pathetic. Couldn't even pull a wank off, let alone have the source of his hard on forgive him. Facing Louis later on was bound to be awkward enough to begin with, now he's gone and made it unknowingly worse for them.

Harry grabbed for his body wash and huffed out one last frustrated breath. Might as well get ready to head to set early. Maybe he could hide away in his trailer and hope that Louis would spare him from a visit today. he laughed humorlessly to himself, he knew he'd never be quite so lucky. But even as he hoped against the inevitable, he couldn't help but let his body tingle in anticipation, and over think just how warm his hello to him would be.

Harry ran a hand through his tousled and uncombed hair before pulling open the welcoming door of his trailer. Busy bodies buzzed around the lot without bothering to lift their gaze towards him. It was slightly maddening. Everyone easily breezed past him without so much as a hello or a grumpily mumbled good morning. He couldn't tell if it was because no one could stand to look at him at the early hour, or if they were just genuinely too occupied with their pre-filming duties.

The darkness of his sitting room drew him in. Monogrammed slippers slid off his socked feet and worn t-shirt pulled off and over his shoulders. He would be dressed in a few hours anyway, for now he resigned himself to the awaiting comfort of his trailer's suite. Shivers rolled down his spine as the cool air from the hallway pulled him forward. His door was open ajar, and he didn't think anything of the clothing rack blocking his way. Mind set solely on getting to his bed.

As he wheeled the rack of clothing away from the entrance, Harry forced down a stunned gasp at the sight in front of him. Slept peacefully, with a halo of fringe, and dainty fists tucked under his cheek, Louis breathed evenly, not even twitching awake at the movement in the room.

Harry stood breathless. Not sure if he should make a run for it and risk waking him up, or remain motionless at the foot of the bed and risk Louis waking up to him standing there, topless, like a fucking creep. Goodness. The length of his wispy lashes were visible even in the dim light. Harry nearly missed them fluttering open.

“Harry?” Louis whispered in a sleep heavy voice. “Shit. I'm sorry–I...”

Louis shuffled under the covers, attempting to quickly rid himself from the bed.

“No–no, uh. You can sleep.” Harry put his hands up and backed out of the room. “M’sorry I didn't mean to wake you—I. I'll just. I'll go.”

Harry shoved himself out of the room in a haste. Stumbling backwards and accidentally slamming the door behind him. Fuck. Shit. He couldn't get down the hallway fast enough. What the fuck was Louis doing in his bed? Harry would imagine he'd want to be as far away from him as possible, at all times. Louis clearly wasn't expecting him anytime soon seeing as he laid down and shut his eyes for a sleep. Jesus, did he have to look so ethereal whilst doing so?

“Harry?” Louis’ soft voice came from down the hall as his quiet steps padded closer. Fucking hell, this boy. Dressed in all black and tummy on display, again. Did he own any shirts that were proper length? “Hey, um, sorry about that, s’just I got here around five because of the train schedules, and you weren't supposed to be here for a while, and I'm just so exhausted, I—”

“Hey, no, it's alright. Don't worry about it.” Harry subconsciously placed his hands upon his hips, proudly displaying his body, as he felt Louis’ sleepy eyes wander over his inked skin. It felt nice, “I meant it when I said you could relax in there. Just wasn't expecting you is all. Good morning, by the way.”

“Good morning.”

Louis rubbed gently at his eyes. Soft hair sweeping over his forehead and and pretty lips stretched around a yawn. He was so gorgeous. So soft. Harry had to remind himself that pulling him into his chest, and swaying his slumberous body in his hold, would not end well. Louis couldn't stand him, and Harry made an unspoken promise to respect his boundaries.

“Can I fix you a cuppa, or something? You can go back to bed if you want.”

“No, you're here now, so I'm officially on the clock.” He stretched his limbs up over his head and Harry bit his lip at the amount of skin he was displaying. Even in the limited light he glowed a pretty summer shade. “I'll be back, yeah? Need to wake up a bit and go pick up your trousers for the day.”

“Alright,” Harry whispered only a tad bit smitten. He wasn't used to this barely awake and completely lovely Louis. The morning softened him even more than what Harry thought was possible. He wouldn't mind these run-ins becoming more and more common. “You know where to find me, yeah?”

“I do.” Louis smiled from under his lashes as he stepped forward towards the trailer’s door. Harry wanted to catch him by the wrist and cuddle him back to sleep. “Don't wait up for me, Hollywood.”

Flirting. He was absolutely flirting. Harry held the door open behind him as Louis stepped down into the earliest light of the day, and watched as he purposely swayed his bare hips from side to side. What a lovely fucking view. One Harry thought he'd only ever see in his daydreams.

Harry sighed wistfully as he shut the door and pranced his way down to his suite. There was a bright and invigorating energy in the air that only Louis could leave behind. Sheets left haphazardly straightened, and room fragranced with the sweetness of his scent. Harry draped the fabric over his bare torso and basked in what was left of Louis’ warmth.

He could only hope the morning they shared set the tone for the rest of day. He was more than aware it was a stretch of the imagination, but Harry always did consider himself a dreamer.

Dreams be damned, Louis was back to his polished, professional ways. The personification of poise whilst dressing Harry in his costume for the day and tummy covered with appropriate clothing. Gone were the bedroom eyes and bashful smiles, and back were the irritated expressions and focused hands. He wasn't even charmed when Harry greeted him softly from his bed. Practically yanked the duvet away from his sleep warm body and switched on nearly every light in the trailer.

“Turn around.” Louis mumbled from his squatted position as he tugged harshly at the bottom of Harry’s trousers.

“Turn around, please?” Harry suggested as he rolled his eyes and turned for Louis anyway.

His words went unacknowledged as Louis kept his focus on the reference photo beside him. Tucking and lacing Harry’s work boots and trousers exactly how they were designed to fit. It was probably a good thing Louis never paid him attention anyway. As soon as he dropped completely to his knees in front of him, Harry had to crane his neck away. Recurring images from his failed wank clouded his vision and he could feel the heat in his cheeks turning him a deep red. Fuck, he was so embarrassed. What a shameful position to be in.

“Turn.” Louis stood to his full height as Harry shifted his vision to focus on Louis.

“Ask nicely.” he softly demanded.

“Harry, we don't have time for this—”

“Then do as I said.” he challenged with a perfectly arched brow. “A simple please will do.”

Louis indignantly crossed his arms over his chest “No.”

“God, you're such a brat.” Harry ran his hand frustratedly through his quiff. Lack of sleep officially affecting him and his mood. “Aren't you the one who wants to be treated fairly? Shouldn't that be extended to me as well?”

“When have you ever been fair to me?” Louis cocked his head in curiosity. “I must have missed it between you swiping opportunities and attempting to hand them back to me.”

“Jesus, Louis, I didn't mean to do either in a malicious way! I'm sorry I ruined such a brilliant opportunity for you, alright? I had no bloody idea it would turn out like this.” Mood in the room shifted, Harry didn't mean to roar his apology, but it stunned Louis long enough for him to listen. “Had I known I was jeopardizing your career I would have never agreed to this, and had I known that by trying to make it better, I would only make it worse, I would have left that alone as well and just let you believe I'm some sort of self righteous prick. It's what you think either way, yeah?”

“Harry, what? No—”

“You wouldn't be the first, babe. Don't fret.” Harry huffed out a sigh and nervously ran his hand through his hair again. “M’sorry for yelling—M’sorry for all this mess I've caused, and how I've treated you from day one.” Louis looked up at him with a sympathizing expression and his lip slightly bitten. Harry could help but actually reach out this time, and take his sweet face in the palm of his hand. Soft. So incredibly soft. “I'll do my best to stay out of your way, yeah? You'll only have to be bothered with me when needed.”

Louis gripped onto the wrist holding his face wordlessly. Eyes wide and pleading but mouth completely sealed shut. Looked as if something was dancing on the tip of his tongue as he let his gentle thumb stroke against the back of Harry’s hand. It was the sweetest touch. The most pleasant Louis has ever been. Harry wished he would say something. Anything. Whatever it was that he wanted to say right now, but wouldn't. Wished they could stay in this moment for just a bit longer, and let the softness of their touches pull them under, but he knew nothing was owed to him, and he knew just how stubborn Louis could be.

He needed to get out of there.

“I'm sorry.” Harry let out sincerely one last time before dropping his hand and making his way off the trailer.

He wasn't due for hair and makeup for a while, but the long and winding walk up to the set would do best to clear his mind. It was good he got that apology off his chest. It was good that Louis heard him out, and more or less accepted what he had to say. Perhaps they could grow from this, and become colleagues that didn't bicker every moment they’re together. Maybe Louis would finally see Harry for the person he was. Who knew. Only time could tell for now.

A full week had gone by since Harry and Louis spoke.

Moments between them went awkward and silent ever since Harry promised to keep his distance. Louis dressed him quickly and made a mad dash for the door as soon as he was satisfied with the fit. Like he couldn't get out of Harry's space fast enough. On set wasn't much better. Harry could see him in his peripherals, nervously biting his nails, and watching him with wide intrigued eyes, but as soon as cut was called, and Louis was instructed to tend to him, their lips never moved to speak, and Louis fixed him up with hurried hands.

Downtime was even worse. In between takes Harry seemed to always end up near Louis. His attractive laughter and alluring smile was always just around the corner, waiting and taunting Harry with their endless enchantment. He wanted to approach him. Wanted to ask him about his day and join in on the conversation. Maybe even be the reason for Louis’ crinkly eyes. But Harry was stubborn and a man of his word, and if he ended up alone in his trailer more than a few times over the course of the week, he didn't mind.

“You meet your love interest today.” Jeff snickered from his spot on the sofa.

The sun had just barely crept up over the hills of Oxford as Jeff invaded his trailer. Harry paced the narrow length anxiously, ignoring most of his small talk, and keeping an eye on the window. Louis was usually here by now, setting up his pins and needles, and steaming the clothing to his liking. It was only slightly concerning when Harry walked into an empty dressing room, and had no way of knowing where Louis was. He supposed it was none of his business, anyway. He just couldn't help but wonder.

“I'm not fake dating her so you can leave me out of whatever foolproof plan you're conjuring up in your head.” Harry expressed distractedly as he slightly pulled the curtains back to check for the boy.

Jeff went on in the background. Yapping about how lovely she was and maybe this could lead to something, you never know, you're lonely anyway, Harry. He knew it was meant to coerce him into the business strategy that was onset relationships, but Harry couldn't be arsed. Wouldn't agree to it this time around, especially with a role as important this one.

“Is there a reason you're bothering me this early in the morning, Jeff?”

“Oh, I need a reason now? I can't just visit—”

With a roll of his eyes and a shake of his head, Harry effortlessly tuned out the sound of his voice. His mind was elsewhere at the moment. He wasn't nearly as interested in their friendly banter as he normally would be.

Harry's eyes caught sight of a soft body rounding the corner into the trailer lot. Head drooped and shoulders sagged. Fuck. That couldn't be good. There hasn't been a time where Harry has seen Louis look anything other than poised with his head held high. Something was wrong. Something was off.

“Are you listening to me?” Jeff cut through his internal worry.

“No—um,” Harry peeked through his curtains one last time, judging the distance between Louis and his trailer, and quickly dodging out of the way just as Louis looked up. “There's no nice way to put this, but, can you leave? I've got someone coming and–”

“A visitor? Who is it?” Jeff sprung up off the sofa, before Harry could block him, and pulled back the silky fabric of the curtain. “Oh, you've got to be kidding me.” he said as his face twisted into a grin. “You're still pining over this guy?”

Jeff dissolved into a fit of laughter and Harry couldn't even begin to imagine why.

“No? Fuck you. Yes. God, can you just please leave?” Harry struggled as he attempted to push Jeff towards the door.

“No, I really needed to talk to you. I received your promo schedule the other day—”

“Christ Jeff you can email me this, yeah?” Go, go, go.” Harry pushed and pushed until Jeff was halfway out the door

“I haven't seen you this desperate in years, it's great.” he cackled as he stumbled out the door.

“Piss off.” Harry slammed the opening shut and breathed a small sigh of relief. He smoothed out the wrinkles of his clothing and twirled a strand of hair to dangle over his forehead. Whatever it took to look presentable, and not like he was fretting over Louis’ absence for the last hour.

He quickly threw himself against the sofa as the trailer door began to jiggle. His body language fiend nonchalance as his heart rate gave away his nerves. Louis slowly and carefully slid his way through the door, head still faced down, and not noticing Harry at first glance.

“Hey, Lou.”

“Oh fuck—” Louis gasped and curled his body in defense. “Jesus, you scared me.”

Shit.

“Sorry, babe, I didn't mean to.” Harry stood up from the couch and stepped just a bit closer to him. “Everything alright? You usually beat me here, I was beginning to worry.” Harry tried for lighthearted. Even went as far as chuckling lightly and pasting on a smile.

“I–um–yeah, just missed the train s’all.” Louis shrugged it off, and moved toward the entrance of the dressing room.

Harry followed cautiously. Keeping his distance and doing his best not to hover. The last thing he wanted to do was set Louis off or do anything to further upset him.

“Why aren't you dressed yet?” Louis asked distractedly as he began to pull clothing from the racks.

“Well that's your job, innit?” Harry tried for a joke, but ultimately fell flat when Louis’ lips remained pressed in a firm line. “I actually don't have to be dressed til late afternoon today. Think there was some minor difficulties on set this morning, and it mucked up everyone's schedule.”

“So I assume that means we’ll be on set later than planned?”

Harry shrugged. “I would assume so, yes.”

“Great.” Louis sighed as he abandoned the clothing rack to curl up against the sofa.

“Are you sure everything is alright?” Harry questioned with a bit of worry. “You don't have to tell me, of course, but is there anything I can do?”

“Everything will be alright, mate. Thanks.”

“Mate?” Harry repeated a bit taken aback. “So we’re mates now? Are we finally moving forward?”

“No we’re not bloody mates.” Louis grumbled as he crossed his arms over his chest.

He was in a right mood today. Eyes rolling more than usual and grumpy scowl a bit more prominent. Harry’s efforts seemed useless. Might as well let him get through whatever he’s going through without serving to further annoy him.

“Alright, I'll leave you alone then.”

Harry turned to exit out of the room but was quickly halted by a soft wait. He thought he could've imagined it, but when he glanced back over his shoulder, a pair of tired blue eyes met his, and a nervously bitten lip drew him in.

“There is—one thing you can do. If the offer is still on the table.” Louis spoke with a bit of hesitancy. If only he knew how tightly wrapped around his finger Harry already was.

“Sure, anything.” Harry shrugged as he awaited his instructions.

“Okay, but there are rules.” he pointed his finger sternly and sat up a bit to address him properly. “We don't speak of this afterwards and you don't get to fall in love with me.”

“What?” Harry asked taken aback. Feeling somewhat caught even though he never admitted to anything. “That's awfully presumptuous and a bit sure of yourself—”

“Agree to my terms, Harry.” Louis said with a bit of an edge. Letting Harry know his patience were running thin and he could look elsewhere for someone to help him out.

“Alright, fine, I agree.” Harry rushed out still partially confused. “What is it that you need me to do then?”

Louis looked at him through droopy eyes. Mirth and playfulness gone and replaced by his previous exhaustion and need. With his dainty hand, he leaned over and pat the opposite corner of the sofa, quietly instructing Harry to sit down. Harry obliged willingly. Taking the short steps to reach the cushion and sitting awkwardly in the corner away from him. Louis eyed him carefully, before moving in closer. Studying all of Harry’s features and seemingly testing the boundaries of their personal space. Slipping closer and closer and hovering just within breathing distance of Harry’s lips.

“Cuddle me.”

#this is literally as I left it over a year ago #I can't read it because I don't want to cringe at past me's writing #it's five chapters #if any of you wanna take it off my hands and write the rest be my guest #asks #Anonymous

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