I think I look good today. I know my style must look weird to others but I’m in love with suspenders and bow ties. For some reason, I woke up not feeling self-conscious for once ! I’m so happy about that☺️☺️🌈🌈.
Imagine Person A is addicted to painkillers, and Person B finds where Person A keeps their painkillers and confronts them about it. Person B offers to help Person A recover and Person A sighs, nods, and says “Yeah, I’d like that.”
It’s hot out, which Harry should’ve expected, but it was still a welcoming change from drizzly London, the sun warming his skin. He stepped out the plane, nearly tripping down the stairs with his long boots skimming the ground, ready to exchange for flip-flops, or, even better, no shoes at all. The rest of his band were standing near the rental cars, talking and laughing while slowly stripping from the heavy layers, layers needed in cold England, but no longer needed in sunny tropics.
“It’s hot as fuck,” his love’s airy voice came from the top of the staircase, and he turned to see his boy squinting at the sun, already changed into cargo shorts and a tank top, sunglasses tucked into his collar, his golden skin seeming to come to life, “And bright too. Can someone turn down the sun?” He complained, gracefully coming down the stairs to latch himself against Harry’s side.
“Lou, you have sunglasses on you right now,” Harry teased, rolling his eyes as he took the glasses and slowly slipped them on Louis’ face, kissing his crinkled nose, “That better?”
Louis nodded, smiling with his head tilted up, “Much,” and brings their lips together softly, a bare trace of kisses to come.
“You all done?” Mitch called to them, breaking their bubble as they look over and see the full band watching them with fond eyes and silly grins, “Some of us want to actually get to the bungalow,”
Louis looked back to Harry, leaning up to wrap his arms around the taller boys neck and pull him into a quick kiss, a mere peck, “Ready, love?”
Harry returned the embrace, arms wrapped around his waist, and pressed their foreheads together, “With you by my side? Always.”
“Did you really make a proper English fry-up when we’re over 4,000 miles from London, and in the middle of a Caribbean paradise?” Louis asked, slowly pulling himself up from where he was spread eagle over their bed, the silk sheets pooling around his waist.
Harry sat down on the bed, across from Louis so they could make faces at each other while eating, and set the tray between them, “The past few days all we’ve had for breakfast is fruit, with the occasional bagel. Thought you could use something greasy,” Harry reasoned.
“Greasier than me, you mean?” Louis replied, taking a huge bite of his eggs, eyes nearly rolling back in his head, “Fuck, forgot how good this is. You fed the rest of the band, right?” He asked, always one to care about others.
“You’re not greasy, love. Just glowing,” Harry shot back, giggling at the pale pink coloring the other man’s cheeks, dodging the piece of bacon lobbed at him, “And yes, I fed the others, can’t have my band starve,” he grinned, and Louis laughed in response, his eyes crinkling up at the corners, a trait Harry was so helplessly in love with.
The two sat in relative silence, eating their breakfast and occasionally sticking their tongues out at each other, sharing giggles while the rest of the band move around the house, the sounds of showers being turned on and off, shouts and laughter. Louis finished his food, and pushed back against the headboard watching Harry slowly eat the rest of his eggs, “What are our plans for the day?” He asked, losing patience after ten seconds of watching him eat.
Harry smiled, and pushed away his plate, standing up to stretch, “Well, I know everyone wants to go swimming, so definitely that first,” he tapped his bottom lip, before breaking into a mischievous smirk, Louis getting a flashback of the 16 year old boy he fell in love with, “Sex On the Beach?” He propositioned with a wink, making Louis laugh.
“The act or the drink?” Louis waggled his eyebrows, both of them bursting into loud laughter when there was an unmistakable retching sound from behind their bedroom door.
“Quit being nosy, Sarah!” Harry yelled, banging on the door, tears in his eyes, smile so bright Louis’ heart felt like it was being clenched, “C’mon, Lou, let’s get dressed,” Harry pulled the smaller man out of bed, Louis feeling no insecurity being naked in front of his lover, twirling him around until they were at their joint dresser, and rifling through the top drawer, “Blue or green?” He asked, holding up two different colored trunks, but with the same striped pattern.
Louis crossed his arms, and gave Harry a look, one he was famous for, a tilt to his hip and one eyebrow raised, “What do you think?” He responded, smiling brightly when he’s handed the green pair, quickly sliding them on and wiggling to fit, laughing as Harry does the same, his long Bambi legs being as difficult as usual.
“Race to the beach?” Harry propositioned, stretching out his legs, and Louis nodded, “Alright, we’ll start at the back door, when I say go, no cheating,” he wagged his finger, and Louis rolled his eyes, but agreed to his terms. As soon as their bedroom door was opened, he shot off like a rocket, laughing at the pounding footsteps of Harry chasing after him.
A few hours passed, and Louis had sand everywhere, his skin was warm and a tad pink looking, a signal for more sunscreen, and his hair was full of salt, but fluffy. He was leaned back, pressed into Harry’s arms, sitting between his legs, as they watched the water, “I’d say today was productive,” Harry said, breaking the silence. Louis tilted his head back to look up at Harry’s face.
“We didn't write anything, nor record anything, we just sat on the beach,” Louis pointed out, wondering what Harry meant by “productive”.
“Yeah, but,” he leaned down and kisses Louis’ forehead, “I spent it all with you.” The smaller man cuddled back between his lover’s legs, and closed his eyes, feeling the steady rise and fall of the broad chest beneath him, hearing Harry start to hum something familiar sounding, after a few seconds of this, Louis spoke up.
“Are you really humming If I Could Fly at me?” He asked, without opening his eyes, a small smile forming on his face as Harry’s chest starts to shake with laughter.
“Something like that,” he answered, hooking his chin on Louis’ shoulder, “I’m home to you, aren’t I?” Louis giggled sleepily, his voice already starting to sound warmer and gravelly, “I’m gonna miss you,” Harry confessed quietly, tracing slow lazy circles onto the soft skin underneath his fingertips, and Louis swallowed past the lump in his throat, determined for his voice to not choke up.
“A week and a half, Haz,” he tried to speak reassuringly, “We can last that, yeah?” Harry made a low hum sound in the back of his throat, before sighing lightly, the rush of cold hair giving Louis goosebumps.
“I believe,” he started slow, “That we can last forever.” His voice no longer timid at saying something so deep and intimate, knowing for sure that Louis felt the exact same. Their grips tightened around each other, and they laid like that, watching the sun disappear below the horizon, a calmness in the air.
Harry is running off of four hours of sleep, and it’s become noticeable in his song-writing, the theme drifting more towards melancholy, and longing, and breaking free. He also was checking his phone obsessively, something he promised he wouldn’t do the entire time here, vowing to not even turn the thing on. But it felt like as soon as Louis left, his phone never left his hand, waiting for something, a text, a tweet, a selfie on Instagram, just anything so he could remember what his boy felt like.
“H, it’s been four days,” Mitch called him out, after the 20th pause in recording for grown man to race to his phone, “You can’t make it four days without him?”
Harry knew it was meant as a light ribbing, but it hit all the same, that he really can’t last four days without his baby, “I miss him,” he pouted, “I just wish he were back here with me, with us. He deserves a vacation.”
“And he’ll get one once he’s back, H.” Mitch cut in, “Your boy will be back in your arms, you’ll be in your safe area, where you can hide from everything, and spend the time together.” He looked up from where he was doodling on their notebook, smiling kindly, “Won’t that be lovely?”
Harry nodded, knowing Mitch was right, and that he should calm down and wait for Louis to return to him. Pulling the notebook towards him, Harry carefully penned, under the already written words, “We’ve got to get away,” and looked back up to see his guitarist with a sparkle in his eye, and they shared a quick nod, like an unspoken word between the two.
After eight days, Harry was pretty sure his new band hated him. He had penned out quite a few songs in the past few days, some good enough to make the album, but all the same theme. Loneliness, heartbreak, lost love, soulmates, being caged. And they were only words on paper, no actual music for accompaniment.
“Harry, please, two more days,” Clare begged him, “Just two more days, and he’ll be back, you can make it.”
He put his head in his hands, dragging his hands through his hair, nails scratching his scalp, “I’m sorry, I’m not usually like this,” Harry apologized, not looking up, “God, I’m pathetic,” he cursed himself, looking up in shock when she hit his arm.
“You are not pathetic, Harold,” she chided him, before smiling, “You are in love. You want your boy here because this is your first solo album, you want him to be here for the adventure, the creation. This album’s a huge part of you, and so is he, so of course you want the two to share a time slot,” she spoke simply, explaining in such an easy way, that it felt like the gears of Harry’s brain just clicked back into place, and started to whirl.
“You’re right,” he said quietly, “Oh, my god, you’re right!” He jumped up from the kitchen table, kissed her on the cheek, and raced down the hall, slamming into the recording studio, surprising Mitch out of his seat where he was casually strumming, “I need a guitar, and a pen.” He ordered, and Mitch looked surprised for a second, before getting a steely look in his eye.
“Damn right, you do,” he grinned, and Harry felt the tug at his own lips.
It’s day ten, nearly day eleven, and Harry was laying in bed alone. The last time he talked to Louis was two days ago, where he just had to call and tell his boy all about the new song they were recording, a song about New York and talking to walls, and Louis was excitedly shouting back into the phone. The two giggled like children, and hanging up was the most difficult thing, but they knew that in two more days there would be a reunion, and that’s all the encouragement they needed to get back to their schedules.
Only now, it was nearly midnight, and Harry was still in a half empty bed. Louis didn’t give a specific time on when he was going to be back, just that it was probably going to be late. The band had tried to convince Harry to stay up and watch a movie with them, a cheesy rom-com knowing how much it would entice him, but he denied, instead choosing to stare at his ceiling and wait. The window was open, and the rushing of waves had lulled him into a near sleeping state, the air slowly cooling the later it got into the night, crickets chirping and sounding like they were on his windowsill.
“Harry! Get outta bed, we need you!” One of the members (Harry was so sleepy he couldn’t remember whose voice it was) yelled from the front room, making him groan and slowly pull himself from the bed, ready to stomp out and throw a tantrum at them for interrupting his near-nap.
He threw open the door, opening his mouth to yell back, when a body collided into him, nearly knocking him to the floor. The smell of sunshine and cologne filled his nostrils, and he felt his eyes almost instantly tear up, which he quickly tried to blink away as he wrapped his arms around the small curvy body he knows almost as well as his own, “They may need you, but I need you more,” Louis’ raspy voice felt like music to his ears, a gentle laugh escaping his mouth as watery blue eyes met his, “Are you crying? Come on, it’s not that big of a deal.” Louis teased, knowing full well his own eyes were wet. Harry ran his fingers across the slight bags under his lover’s eyes, wiping away the tears and kissing him softly on the mouth.
“I just missed you,” he explained, pulling back to rest their foreheads together. Louis grinned widely at him, his eyes crinkling, and they kissed again, ignoring the cheers from the living room.
“You’re a messy drunk, Harold. I’m not going to clean up after you if you make a mess,” Louis warned, his boy already a little buzzed, his voice lower and warmer, dimples on permanent prominent display. The band had decided after nearly two months of recording, they wanted to get massively drunk and throw a bonfire on the beach, inviting some of the local friends they made. A whole bottle of tequila later, they were all dancing in the sand, running away from the waves and screaming when the water touched their ankles.
“You’ll still take care of me, and yoooooou know it” Harry drawled, giggling when Louis shook his head with a fake exasperated sigh.
“The things I do for you,” he teased, lacing their fingers together and using his shoulder as an armrest.
“Can we go swimming?” Harry asked after a few seconds, looking down at Louis with his bright green eyes that were hard to say no to.
“Sure, baby,” Louis gave in, “Just take off your shirt so it doesn’t get wet,” he instructed, laughing when Harry nodded solemnly, but started to slowly strip while wiggling his hips, which Louis copied, till both their shirts were in a pile at their feet, the two left only in their swim trunks. They raced toward the sea, always a competition, attracting the attention of their friends, who quickly followed after, till it was just a large group of adults splashing each other, the moon reflecting off the water, leaving everything shiny and radiant. Distantly, Louis heard one of the girls shrieking as she was carted over and dropped in the freezing water, still in her dress, “You fucker!” She yelled at the guy, presumably her boyfriend from the way he was looking at her, but she spoke with no malice, and quickly was overcome with giggles, everyone joining in, as the waves crashed around them.
“Let’s all get warm by the fire!” Sarah called, to everyone’s agreement, and quickly they all fled the cold water and sped over to where their fire was roaring, sparks flickering towards the sky.
“Now my dress is all wet,” the girl frowned, and Louis turned to see Harry holding out his own shirt and pants to her, a small grin on his face.
“Switch!” He laughed, and the girl didn’t hesitate to pull off her dress and hand it over, accepting the large shirt and pulling it on, wrapping her arms around herself.
“Harry, you’re huge, I don’t think that dress is gonna fit you…” Louis told him hesitantly, watching as he pulled the collar over his head, looking vaguely tangled.
His green eyes popped out, fire dancing in his eyes, “Don’t be ridiculous, it’ll fit like a glove,” he tugged, slipping his arms through the sleeves, and pulling the fabric down till it just barely reached his mid-thigh, “See? Perfect!” Harry exclaimed, smiling at everybody’s cheers, doing a little twirl to show off.
“If you say so, love,” Louis shook his head lightly, knowing that the dress was probably going to split sometime tonight and they’d have to buy the poor girl a new one.
“Everyone! Pick up your shot glasses, because I propose a toast!” Mitch’s voice boomed, making everyone scramble to grab their glasses from where they were left on towels, while Mitch walked around pouring a bit of vodka, that he got from God knows where, into each little cup, before going back to his original spot and holding his drink forward, “To new friends!” He cheered.
“To making memories!” Sarah interjected, earning a cheer herself.
“To making this album,” Harry spoke up, voice quiet and smile kind.
Louis leaned forward, gathering the attention on himself, “And to Harry Styles,” he spoke firmly, looking at his boy, hoping to convey all the love, pride, and adoration he could with only one look.
“To Harry Styles!” Everyone chorused back, and Louis saw the fire reflecting off the tears forming in Harry’s eyes, as they all clinked their glasses together.
The two pulled each other close, an arm wrapped around their bodies, fitting as they were always meant to, always supposed to. “To home,” Harry said quietly, a toast meant only for LouisandHarry.
“To home,” Louis repeated, and they clinked their glasses together, a beautiful sound on a beautiful night.
Since these kind of promotions seem to circulate much faster, I shall be joining in on the bandwagon. This is a brand new Jumin Han indie/semi-selective rp blog. Please like or reblog this post if you’re interested, and I’ll be sure to check you out.