Could we pretend, just for tonight that if I asked, we’d run away? We’d find some way to leave and just go. Somewhere without murders or sisters. We’d sleep in hotel rooms and never live in the same city twice. There would be no one to fail, or disappoint, or save. It would just be… You and me in love. That would be nice, wouldn’t it?
With a stuttered mixture of a laugh and a groan, Harry lets his head droop, pushes his forehead against Louis’ chest and leans into him, fingers curled around the railing.
“You’re driving me crazy,” he breathes.
Louis lets out a puff of laughter, and when Harry lifts his eyes, the look in Louis’ gaze is one he knows too well, so distinctively coy and mischievous and gently charming, his lips quirked up with a smirk. Harry’s heart falls into the palms of his playful hands. “You’re into it.”
AU. Harry plays on Saturday nights at The Motley. Louis bartends on Saturday nights at The Motley. It’s a thing.